Rocket In My Pocket: Yolcadian Warriors (Celestial Mates), #2

By Suki Selborne

CRESTA: My day was going pretty well until I was abducted by aliens.

 

Who am I kidding? Things weren't really going so great. My science career was failing, the Celestial Mates cherub was on my case, and I hadn't had a date in years. But being taken to a hostile planet to be impregnated with scorpion-bug larvae? That was a whole new level of suck-itude.

 

Luckily, things are looking up. I just got rescued by some hot alien dude in a military uniform. And he's very easy on the eyes, if you know what I mean. Now we're shooting through the stars, trying to find our way back to civilization.

 

If everyone would stop trying to kill us, things would be awesome.

 

HARKUS: This human female is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. She is a goddess.

 

If I had to slay every alien in the galaxy to free her, I would. I am willing to destroy entire planets to keep my beloved safe.

 

But not all fights are fair.

 

If we make it out of this adventure alive, one thing is certain. We belong together.

 

And nobody in this universe will tear us apart.

 

ROCKET IN MY POCKET is the second YOLCADIAN WARRIORS romance novel, set in the Celestial Mates shared world. It features a guest appearance from the couple in THE MILLION MILES HIGH CLUB.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matrioshka Books
• Release date: Apr 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201446741

Book preview

1 CRESTA

All right, Miss Raybond. Show us what your invention can do.

My hands tremble a little. The silver rectangular device I'm holding gleams in the artificial light from above. I have to hold on tight to stop it slipping out of my shaky grasp.

Clearing my throat, I start my well-rehearsed speech.

I call this machine the Vivendum. It's a healthcare tool. I've been working on it for some time.

Understatement of the year. I've spent every spare second working on this since the day I started working at the lab.

The machine shoots out three healing rays of light, at the touch of a button, I continue, and they each do something different.

I touch the top of the Vivendum to open the control panel. Then I turn it over, so everyone can see it.

The first treatment beam is called Stasis. It stops whatever is killing the patient from proceeding.

Stops it? Professor Gripslade's eyes flash. Stops it altogether?

I have his full attention, for probably the first time ever.

Yes. It's... kind of like hitting the pause button on death.

To demonstrate this, I give one light tap to the top of the device, and wait for a second. A thin beam of yellow light shoots out of the front of the silver box. The light beam outlet is trained on a wall, so nobody is in the way.

Professor Gripslade nods, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Go on.

Two more taps to the control panel and the beam switches to a pink ray. A new hush fills the room, like everyone in it is holding their breath. Perhaps everyone is.

This beam is called Restoration. I turn the box slightly so the ray shoots upward, away from the people around me. When the pink light falls on a biological organism, all cellular damage is reversed. The body is restored to peak original condition.

Professor Gripslade frowns, like he can't believe what he's hearing. He pinches the top of his nose and narrows his eyes.

"All recent damage is reversed, you mean? he says. Be specific please, Miss Raybond. Sweeping statements help nobody."

I shake my head. "No, Professor. Not just recent damage. All physical damage is reversed. No matter how long ago it occurred."

The professor stares at me. I hold his eye contact, suddenly a little bolder. My Vivendum works. I know it does. And I have total confidence in my work. I know I'm holding something pretty special, even in a laboratory as distinguished as this one.

From the astonishment on his face, I believe the professor is starting to agree. Even if it would half kill him to admit it.

Give me an example of this damage reversal, the professor says. He looks skeptical.

Okay. The Restoration beam can delete a twenty-year-old scar. It can restore an original amputated limb. There's no longer any need to digitally print a replacement leg in the lab, and then transplant it to the patient, as we do now.

My voice sounds firmer now. I hear it, even though I still feel nervous in front of an audience.

"It reverses the negative effects of any disease or injury, Miss Raybond? No matter what form the damage takes?"

Yes, Professor, it does.

Professor Gripslade's assistant Lucy leans forward, waving her cosmonet notebook. Her picture-perfect face wears a tight frown.

Does the Restoration beam reverse cosmetic enhancements? And, uh, restore the person's original physique, to what they looked like before they had work done? Everyone stares at her. She coughs and looks down. Um, for example.

Actually, it... I...

I stumble over my words, because I actually hadn't thought of that. Why hadn't I thought of that? That's a really basic thing. In a world where pretty much all women have had cosmetic work done, I never even thought of the effect of my Restoration beam on that work. Damn. I'm such an un-girly girl.

Perhaps it would, I admit. Yeah, I guess so.

Lucy leaps back, as though terrified of the pink beam. I switch it off.

Professor Gripslade glares at her, then turns back to me. You said there were three stages to your medical invention, Miss Raybond. There's a note of steel in his voice. What is the third?

I swallow. This is the big one. The one that will really make them sit up and take notice.

The third stage is called Revival.

Yes? And what does it do?

Taking a deep breath, I look around the room. It's the moment I've been waiting for since I first perfected my Vivendum. I'm going to savor it.

After this, my career will soar. Everything I've worked so hard for will be achievable, at last.

My heart pounds in my ears like a thunderstorm. I clear my throat, so my words ring out loud and clear.

The Revival beam is the most special one of all.

"Yes?"

I hold eye contact with Professor Gripslade. I'm not nervous any more.

Here comes the science bit.

It brings the dead back to life.

2 CRESTA

Everybody gasps. You could hear an electromagnetic pin drop.

Professor Gripslade removes his glasses and polishes them on his lab coat. I can see he doesn't believe me.

My dear girl. I'm sure you have the best of intentions for your medical invention. And naturally, you have the juvenile optimism to convince yourself of it. The arrogance of youth is terribly sweet. But this? He smiles coldly. This is impossible.

I can prove it, sir.

Immediately, the room erupts into noisy chatter. I stand very still, willing my racing heart to slow down a little.

The professor raises one finger. Everyone falls instantly silent.

Lucy, fetch us a dead organism please. One from the lab's cold store.

Lucy looks horrified. She's super squeamish. I'm not sure why she even applied for this job. Lab scientists have to be tough, especially when they're also the professor's assistant and right-hand person. And why did Professor Gripslade choose her, out of the thousands of applicants the position must have attracted?

Maybe Lucy's looks are a part of it. She's gorgeous, and the professor has always had a reputation for favoring hot girls, so that'd make sense. Ugh. He's such a sleaze.

I'll never be able to get a senior post the same way, because I'm not prepared to get myself cosmetically enhanced for a job. Hey, I'm not judging. We've all got to do what we've got to do. It's just that that path is not for me. I want to reach the top the legitimate way.

And I think I've just managed it.

My Vivendum is going to be the biggest medical science breakthrough in a generation. It's going to change the course of human history. I've barely slept since I perfected the three healing rays.

"A dead organism now please, Lucy," the professor snaps, and Lucy dashes out of the room. She returns looking miserable, clutching a lifeless Martian flinkrat in a clear acrylic box. The flinkrat is one of the rodent species that hitched a ride to Earth after we took over Mars. It's pretty cute, but this one was intended for veterinary research, not petting. No point feeling sentimental about these things, I guess.

It does have a sweet little pink button nose though. Aw. Wonder if it's still cute when it's alive again?

I train the beam lens onto the flinkrat. Then I touch the control panel. A beam shoots out and a turquoise light surrounds the creature.

The room falls silent once more. This time, it's not me the other people in the room are looking at. All eyes are on the flinkrat.

Slowly, the flinkrat begins to twitch. I hear a yelp of amazement from somewhere in the back of the room.

The little creature kicks out one leg, then another.

"Holy shit," Professor Gripslade mutters. I've never seen him lose his cool, so this is a first.

The flinkrat wiggles its chunky rump and stands up. Its eyes are still closed. No other being in the room moves a muscle. Well, except for my knees, which betray me by quivering.

A few long seconds pass. Then the flinkrat opens its eyes.

Meep, it says.

The entire room bursts into shrieks of astonishment, then applause. My face is hot as lava, but I'm loving every second.

All the hours of work. All the effort. It's all been worth it.

And it really has been a major sacrifice. Thousands of hours in the lab. No time off. No hanging out with colleagues. No dating. No social life at all. I hang out with my pilot friend Kalia every few months when she's back from space, but those rare nights out are all I have. Since the day I started working here, I've dedicated every spare moment to making this invention a success.

The professor speaks at last. This is remarkable, he says, peering at the fidgety flinkrat. Truly remarkable.

It's about the biggest compliment he's ever given anyone. That thought makes me smile so hard, my cheeks feel tired.

Thank you, I start to say. It was--

Wait, Lucy says, suddenly. What's happening now?

Everyone snaps their attention back to the machine. My smile fades slowly as I register what Lucy means.

The flinkrat is still basking in the middle of the Restoration beam. Only now, it's smaller.

What the...?

It was the size of a guinea pig a minute ago. Now it looks like a little field mouse.

"Is this little guy shrinking? Lucy squints at it, with a frown. Professor?"

The professor activates the three-dimensional analysis lenses in his lab goggles. It certainly appears to be doing so. He looks up at me. Is this a deliberate function of the Revival beam?

I jab at the Vivendum. Uh, no, it...

I'm as baffled as everyone else. Oh God. The flinkrat is still shrinking. It's the size of a thumbnail now.

Switch it off, the Professor barks. Get over here, Lucy.

Lucy scrambles to the Professor's side, but ends up dropping her notebook as she hurries across the room. Somehow, it falls into the turquoise Revival light beam, next to the diminishing flinkrat. To my horror, the notebook starts to shrink too. Both it and the flinkrat are getting smaller, smaller, smaller...

Panic rises in my throat. I slap the big manual override button on the control panel. The machine dies.

Professor Gripslade turns to me. His face is like rock, with no expression at all.

Miss Raybond, your invention is... moderately impressive. However, I suggest there is still considerable work to be done. He pulls off his goggles. While we could certainly use a machine to revive injured humans, medical science has very little call for shrinking patients. He looks around the room and waves a hand. Perhaps you might consider inviting a more detail-oriented colleague to help fix the glitch in your machine. Two heads are better than one, after all.

I'm speechless. This can't be happening. The Vivendum was working perfectly when I tested it. Nothing like this ever happened before. What on earth has gone wrong?

Someone steps forward from the shadows and pats my shoulder, a little too hard. Oh, great. It's my arch-rival, Bing the cyborg. Just what I needed right now. Not. Bing's been trying to get my job, ever since he was technologically-enhanced. Even with his unfair advantages, I got the lab apprenticeship, and he didn't. And boy, does it burn him up bad.

You certainly need help, Raybond, he sneers. I cannot imagine a circumstance in which we'd need to revive dead people, and then shrink them to microscopic proportions. His airbrushed-perfect face is even more smug than usual.

Great, thanks Bing.

"In my view, Professor, it's better to continue our existing digital enhancement program, and drop this failed project altogether. Better to upgrade humans with cybernetic additions before they die. Once they're gone, it's too late, I'm afraid. He turns back to me with a sickening fake smile. Sadly, it isn't really worth my time to help you, Raybond. Otherwise, I'd offer. But I'm sure one of the juniors would be happy to cast an eye over your faulty plans. Not that it'll make any difference."

I ignore his attitude. So he can't help? Fine by me. Hell would freeze over before I invited Bing to work on my pet project anyhow.

But it did work, I stutter at the professor. "Before now. It did. I tested it extensively before coming to show you all. I--I don't know what happened here."

People are already filtering out of the room, looking disappointed. Shit. I blew it.

What the hell made my Vivendum start shrinking stuff? What the actual hell?

I pick up the smooth rectangle and look all around it. It offers me no clues. The pearly silver casing is intact. The control panel seemed normal when I operated it. Nothing obvious is to blame. It's a total mystery.

Professor Gripslade approaches me now, with a brief flicker of something I assume is anger. I don't flinch, but I'm pretty anxious.

May I ask a favor, Miss Raybond? His voice is a furious low hiss. Next time you cook up some wild idea like this, would you demonstrate it to me personally before calling an audience? This reflects badly on me as head of the department.

I'm sorry, Professor, but honestly, it never--

"I've changed my mind