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Alien Fury Chronicles of Arcon Book 8
Alien Fury Chronicles of Arcon Book 8
Alien Fury Chronicles of Arcon Book 8
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Alien Fury Chronicles of Arcon Book 8

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The Arcon, Thorn Grindstone, finds himself alone and injured, thawing in a disabled cryogenics tank. Making an impulsive deal for a fighter, he launches into a battle with a pirate ship before beginning his search for his people.

After Thorn crash-lands in the widow Roxie Carson’s corn field. Roxie nurses the injured Arcon. As tension worsens between Roxie and her brother-in-law, Thorn turns out to be an unexpected ally.

Roxie is grateful to the handsome alien, but what will happen when the Arcon government finally shows up and takes Thorn away? What will her brother-in-law do then?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 3, 2023
ISBN9798215515211
Alien Fury Chronicles of Arcon Book 8
Author

Janice Seagraves

Janice Seagraves grew up with a deep love of science fiction and adventure stories. Always the consummate artist, she traded in her paint brush for a laptop to write breathless life-affirming novels that celebrate enduring love.

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    Alien Fury Chronicles of Arcon Book 8 - Janice Seagraves

    Alien Fury

    By Janice Seagraves

    Copyright 2023 by Janice Seagraves

    Cover design by Cover Pro

    Edited by Cassandra Ulrich

    All rights reserved.

    This Smashwords edition is copywritten by Janice Seagraves and may not be used by anyone for any purpose other than your own personal enjoyment. If you did not purchase this copy, please go to Smashwords.com to do so.

    No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, with proper credit given.

    This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, except for incidental references to public figures, well-known products and geographical locations, which are used fictitiously with no intent to disparage their products or services.

    The Arcon, Thorn Grindstone, finds himself alone and injured, thawing in a disabled cryogenics tank. Making an impulsive deal for a fighter, he launches into a battle with a pirate ship before beginning his search for his people.

    After Thorn crash-lands in the widow Roxie Carson’s soggy corn field. Roxie nurses the injured Arcon. As tension worsens between Roxie and her brother-in-law, Thorn turns out to be an unexpected ally.

    Roxie is grateful to the handsome alien, but what will happen when the Arcon government finally shows up and takes Thorn away? What will her brother-in-law do then?

    In memory of Jerry Race.

    Jerry Race was a friend and fellow author. I even critiqued his work a few times.

    I used Jerry Race’s name as a place holder name for the sheriff in Alien Fury. Before I could tell him and ask if I should leave him in my book, Jerry, unfortunately passed away, and left many of us in the writing community who knew him heartbroken.

    Jerry’s name remains in Alien Fury as the Sherriff. I gave him a partner with the same name as his hero in his first published book, Shane. He always called me kiddo, so I have him calling the heroine that as well. I used to tease him about using Oh my word, instead of swearing in his stories, so there’s a little cookie for you to find.

    Rest in peace Jerry. I miss you.

    CHAPTER ONE: THORN

    Thorn Grindstone leaned against the gray metal bulkhead, staring at the cryogenics tank on its side that smelled like death. By the Great Mother what happened? And why was I inside this thing instead of on a medical bed so I could be healed?

    Nearby, a first aid kit was attached to the bulkhead next to the door. He stiffly made his way toward the kit. He tore it open and dug through the supplies. Thorn sprayed the wound with healing spray and found a bandage large enough to cover the wound. Best I can do for now. At least I won’t bleed to death when my body completely thaws.

    He knocked over something soft with his elbow. A pile of orange coveralls spread across the floor. Selecting one, he pulled it on with fingers tacky with his own blood and sighed as his body warmed. He tugged his long hair out of the garment.

    Chase, Lance, Switch? His voice bounced off the walls back to him. We were the last of our unit on the ship… are they still alive?

    A sense of loss swept through him, leaving him colder than he was before. I’m alone?

    The room held only one cryogenics tank but not much else. Thorn exited the room, searching for his friends. But all he found were blue beings in orange coveralls like he now wore. These beings ran back and forth securing the shipments.

    As he scanned the huge room, Thorn puckered his brow. The huge cargo hold was too full of containers. This isn’t the Intergalactic Gladiators’ ship.

    Where am I?

    Something exploded uncomfortably close by, causing the spacecraft to shudder violently. Thorn fell on his hands and knees, badly jarring his side. Boxes rained down, knocking the side of a large crate open. Inside was something black and gray.

    The shape caught his attention. Thorn struggled to his feet and got a better look. A Fury and it’s a special edition XLD. I haven’t seen one of these since flight school. His stomach fluttered. This could be my salvation.

    He glanced around, but no one paid any attention to him. A broad shouldered, blue creature directed the crew, having them move the smaller boxes through a side door and net down the rest to the deck.

    Wasting no time, Thorn threw off the top of the crate and kicked down the walls. The black and gray Fury space fighter rested on metal skids, but its wings were retracted into the body of the craft. Inside, plastic covered the seats. Yes, still new from the manufacturer. A surge of adrenaline hit him and his heart beat faster. Goddess, please let there be a complete charge.

    When he pressed a metal plate, the door retracted revealing a two-man cockpit. Thorn tore off the plastic protective coverings, tossing them out the door, then slid inside, and the doors closed him in. When he turned on the compact spacecraft, the dash lit up. Yes, all charged up and ready to go.

    The lights blinked on in sequence. A computerized voice spoke through the dash speakers, talking in galactic standard and sounding female. His translator chip had no problem translating the language for him. Fury extra level deluxe edition XLD, startup checklist complete. Who is my pilot?

    Your pilot is Thorn.

    When the AI spoke again, it was in the Mother’s Tongue. Thorn is now recognized as pilot. Language Arcon. There was a pause and a blue light swept over Thorn’s shivering body. Pilot Thorn, you are injured, and your body is hypothermic. While this Fury is not outfitted with an automated wound care device, this Fury does possess a field medical kit, and stasis field.

    He’d already used a field kit. As for a stasis field, he didn’t want to be unconscious. He needed his wits about him, especially if there was a chance whatever was out there pounding on the freighter would attack him in the Fury. Is there anything else you can suggest?

    Advise efforts to heat Pilot Thorn’s body to normal temperature.

    Yes! Relief flooded him. He longed to be warm and in fighting trim. Engage heater.

    Delightfully toasty air blew over his body. Thorn relaxed against the seat cushions and closed his eyes. I’d love to nap in this heat, but it’s time to leave.

    I need to set a destination.

    Ready to accept destination, Pilot Thorn.

    Thorn roused himself enough to fasten the five-point seatbelt, and the foam seat formed to his back, buttocks, and legs. My people fled to a small planet in the furthest reaches of space. What was the name of that planet again? Destination, Earth. Somewhere in the Milky Way Galaxy.

    Earth. The monitor flashed through a series of star charts, it slowed, showing a star system. It zeroed in on the third planet from the sun. Planet Earth locked in. Ready to engage.

    Engage.

    The craft started its engines.

    Someone hammered on the window.

    Thorn jerked his head toward the sound. The blue individual who had directed the crew glared at him with huge, solid black eyes in a wide face, and had a purple fin around its head.

    You in there. You’re wearing crew uniform but you’re not my crew. What are you doing? You can’t launch from in here. Come out of there right now! he demanded with his fin vibrating.

    Thorn cheerfully waved to the creature. Fury, please engage the translation on the speakers. He pressed the external microphone. Would you prefer to be blown up into tiny bits or lose this small fighter? I have battle training in a Fury. If you’re willing to gift it to me, I’ll destroy the enemy firing on your ship.

    The male backed away, growling something, which Thorn’s translator chip failed to translate.

    The small craft turned toward the massive doors and wings extended out of its formerly smooth sides. Cargo bay doors are locked. Unable to follow flight command. Please standby, Pilot Thorn.

    The blue creature held a button microphone in front of his face. You in the spacecraft, power down and get out now!

    Thorn hit the external speakers. As an Arcon warrior, my word is my bond. I will take care of those space pirates for you. I only ask for the Fury in exchange for the service.

    Another explosion shook the freighter.

    That sounded bad. I’m surprised this ship can still function. Thorn peered around in an exaggerated fashion. What will it be, this fighter or get blown up along with your ship.

    The creature narrowed his gaze. I recognize you, you’re the Arcon warrior in the cryogenics tank. A collector bought your frozen carcass and brought you on board. How are you alive?

    Thorn blinked at him. What is he talking about? Did Master Souza freeze me and sell me to a collector? The Great Mother must have awakened me. I got better.

    Consider the Fury a fair exchange, but you better destroy those space pirates, Arcon, barked the creature into the microphone. The male pulled down a lever which caused a light to flash red.

    Consider it done! Thorn shouted over the noise of the warning klaxon that echoed in the room.

    An announcement went out over the intercom system. One minute until decompression of cargo bay three.

    The blue creature ran for a doorway, waving for others to follow him. He grabbed one female by the arm, dragging her through just before the door slammed shut.

    As the huge cargo bay doors started to open, air was sucked out into space, trash blew around in the sudden howling wind. The Fury scooted forward, and the skids screeched against the metal deck.

    Ignition in five, four, three, two, one, counted down the Fury’s AI.

    When the small craft launched itself through the large aperture, Thorn was slammed against the seat cushions.

    A burning sensation blazed through his injuries. Thorn went rigid with agony and bellowed.

    Out in space, a dreadnaught blacked out the stars. It hammered the much larger freighter with red proton bolts.

    Hostiles in the immediate vicinity, engaging evasive maneuvers, informed the Fury’s AI, and the Fury dodged several red bolts.

    That dreadnaught is our target. Wounded or not, he was honor-bound to destroy the pirate ship. Activate the targeting system and bring the particle guns online.

    I will comply. A control yoke emerged from the dash.

    Thorn took hold of the yoke. Show me the most vulnerable part of the dreadnaught.

    The monitor flashed through a series of spaceships until it settled on the design of the one in front of him. It flashed red. The back end of the craft was indicated with a target circled in white.

    The small fighter flew over the larger ship. Main target is in sight. Suggest starting firing sequence now.

    Thorn pulled the trigger. The particle gun shot out bolts of blue, hitting the back section of the cruiser until it came to the section outlined by the Fury’s computer. The dreadnaught exploded, and metal debris flew in all directions.

    The Fury picked up speed and outran the expanding blast radius. Target terminated. Well done, Pilot Thorn.

    Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you, Fury. Thorn hissed out a breath and tried to move to a more comfortable spot, but there wasn’t any. The fight had made his wound ache again. His side throbbed with every beat of his heart.

    Return to original destination? asked the Fury’s AI.

    Yes, let’s go find my people. He fingered his slave collar and didn’t want to show up wearing it. Fury, can you open this collar for me?

    Yes, Pilot Thorn.

    A high-pitched screech came over the speakers. Thorn slapped his hands over his ears. A click snapped the collar apart. He jerked it off. Thank you. How do I dispose of it?

    A port opened on the side near his elbow.

    He chucked the collar in, and the port closed. Outside, the collar floated away from the fighter and soon disappeared behind them.

    A green light on the dash blinked several times. Detecting wormhole with corresponding coordinates to Earth.

    Will it get us there quicker? Thorn scanned the area, searching for the distortion that would indicate the mouth of a wormhole. He finally spotted a swirl of light.

    This Fury XLD, even though it is an extra level deluxe edition, is only capable of FTL flight, which will take thirty-point-one years to reach destination Earth. However, using the wormhole, we will reach our journey’s end in five hours.

    Thorn shook his head. Being trapped in the Fury for thirty-one years was not an option. He’d be dead long before he reached Earth. Let’s head for the wormhole.

    I will comply.

    CHAPTER TWO: ROXIE

    Something screamed over the roof of the house, and an orange glow lit up the bedroom windows—a crash sounded close by. Roxie Carson sat up in bed with her heart hammering. What’s that?

    Kit Carson, Roxie’s German Shepard, started to give a continuous, rapid bark.

    She glanced at the empty side of the bed with her mouth half open to say something to her husband. Roxie bit her lip against the sting of tears. Her sorrow caused a huge, painful knot inside her chest. I have to do things by myself now which includes investigating the scary noises.

    Roxie trudged out of her warm bedroom. She pulled on her coat, winter gloves, and knee-high rubber boots over her pajamas.

    When she stepped outside, she spotted flecks of fire out in her north acreage. Damn, I just plowed that field, too.

    Kit Carson ran to her, wagging his tail.

    She patted his side. Hey, boy, are you ready to go see what that was?

    He barked once, which she took as a yes. But then he was always ready to go at a moment’s notice.

    The rains had made everything a muddy mess. Especially the land she so carefully plowed. Her life had become a bitter battle. She had planted corn, but then the monsoon season came and drowned the tender seedlings. The drought that had plagued the farmlands had finally ended but at a cost. One rainstorm after another brought by several Atmospheric Rivers had kept the fields flooded. Great, just great. I should plant rice. That’s a crop needing a lot of water.

    She hurried over to the compact utility tractor. Her husband’s last extravagant purchase. At the thought of her husband, her heart squeezed. The backhoe was still attached from digging drainage ditches the day before. Not that anything she tried helped.

    Turning the key, the engine hesitated. Come on, baby. Turn over for Momma. The tractor finally started, belching out a cloud of diesel smelling smoke. She flipped on the headlights.

    Kit Carson ran ahead, leading the way toward whatever it was.

    Her dog soon trotted next to a furrow scraped into the muddy earth. Roxie steered the tractor just behind her German Shepard, studying the furrow.

    What did this?

    The further she drove, the deeper into the earth it extended, going from groove to trench. What the hell hit my field? Maybe it’s a meteor, and I can sell it on eBay for a thousand dollars. That thought cheered Roxie up a bit. I could pay a few overdue bills with that amount.

    The ditch abruptly ended, and became a hole filled with something black and gray. Steam rose, filling the air. Roxie parked the tractor next to it then climbed out.

    Her boots skidded on the muddy ground, she pinwheeled her arms and slid right into the hole. Roxie fetched up against hot metal. Oof.

    Fins were attached to the back end, but the nose was buried under the mud.

    So, it’s something man made. The big eBay sale she planned winged away.

    Kit shifted from foot to foot, whining down at her.

    Roxie glanced sharply up at her dog. No-no, you stay up there. We don’t both need to be down in this mud hole.

    The trench continued to fill up with water.

    If it’s a rocket, I’ll need to report this to someone. But if it’s a jet there could be someone trapped inside. One way to find out.

    She knocked on the side three times and got a knock back in the same sequence.

    "Dios mío! There’s someone in there." With adrenaline filling her system, Roxie scrambled out of the trench. She climbed into the tractor. Not wanting the mud to make her steering wheel slippery, she tossed her filthy gloves out the door. Turning the tractor around, she set the stabilizers down, fitted the backhoe’s bucket down the hole. She started moving mud, one scoop at a time, flinging it out faster than she’d ever made the tractor move before.

    Kit Carson barked encouragement.

    She finally unburied the front end of the black jet. With the rain pouring down on the muddy top,

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