Thursday, November 20, 2014

When Dead isn’t Really Dead, You’ve got to Worry!

Available HERE
By Eva Lefoy

What’s more dangerous than leaving Earth, joining the military and hunkering down in on a rocky base far from home? Why, Martians of course!
And with Martians, it’s not the ones you see that are the problem. It’s the ones you can’t see that cause all the trouble.
Everybody knows Martian are green. They’re easy to spot in a crowd. Or they would be, if they were still alive. But in the near future, and even now, today, we see no signs of life on Mars. In reality, we send space crafts to the lonely planet to examine the surface for signs of water and other proof life did once exist. In my science fiction series, Martians did once live on Mars. There are even dead Martians stored in scientific vaults, silent testimony that the once proud warrior race lived. After ravaging our galaxy and points beyond, the Martians died out. Maybe their planet ran out of water. Maybe they suffered a plague. Whatever the reason, a dead Martian is a good Martian, to most of the galaxy.
Unless you happen to tinker with their DNA.
DNA from a Martian host inserted into a human subject results in some pretty scary consequences. Over time, the Martian DNA takes over the “weaker” human body and mind, and seeks to program the human host with a new Martian agenda. Talk about trouble! How do you fight an enemy you can’t even see?
Maybe, you become one of them.


Helium toads!
   Lieutenant Lucy Borasco has her phase pistol ready and her ex-boyfriend in her sights. She has every intention of making him pay for choosing his career over her. But she hadn’t factored in a Martian sneak invasion, Cal’s incessant need to save the universe, or the risk of permanent damage to her complexion. Getting Cal back will cost her more than she thinks, leaving her changed forever. 
   Captain California Sykes’s memories are gone, his career is in ruins, and his ex-girlfriend nearly kills him with a kiss. Can he overcome the Martian invasion, save the rest of the team and win Lucy back again in the process? Or will his seat-of-the-pants plans and the canned fish rations cost him everything he holds dear, including his sanity? 

Lucy stood outside the door to the viewport room, her body braced and stiff, as if her life might end the second the door opened. In a way, it would. In a few short hours, she’d turn and walk away from the shattered remnants of her dreams. The person who’d ruined her life was Captain California Sykes and in under five seconds, she’d set eyes on him for the very last time.
Her schedule pad beeped, and she made the mistake of glancing down to see the date: February 14th. Fragg almighty, how had she done this to herself? Throughout the weeks of careful planning she hadn’t noticed her planet off-date was freakin’ Valentine’s Day? Their fave holiday, while a couple.Holy dwarf star.
She groaned and curled her fingers around the tray so hard they went numb. Just get this over with. He’s made it clear he’s no longer interested. He still thinks his career comes first.
In fact, he’d made his decision obvious the first time she’d been ordered to bring him breakfast three weeks ago. Giddy with excitement at seeing him in the flesh so long after the Mars Mission, she’d traipsed into the room floating on moonbeams. He’d stared at her, frowned, immediately turned his head, and ignored her, shoulders set in a “don’t bother me” position. Her heart had fallen faster than space dust into a black hole’s horizon. “Way to shoot me down, space jock,” she’d hissed and slunk from the room, heart burning from his rejection. Due to some horrid twist of fate, she’d been assigned to bring him his breakfast every day since. And every fragging day, nothing had changed.
Shoving the heartache into the background she lifted her chin and angled her access badge towards the door’s scanner. The heavy barrier whished open without hesitation, giving her a good view of Cal’s backside. The side she’d seen the most of in the last three weeks as he’d continually ignored her. She clenched her jaw and stepped inside.
Captain Sykes stood in the same position she found him every morning when she delivered his breakfast—next to the high windowed wall watching the sleek faster-than-light fighters he’d once flownroar past on their training runs, engines glowing in the early twin-sun dawn.
As usual, he did not acknowledge her arrival. Didn’t twitch a muscle anywhere on his rigid frame. However, his eagle-like eyes followed every dip and swoop the fighters made as though he could insinuate his consciousness into one of their cockpits by sheer force of will and fly again, if only he concentrated hard enough.
He’d looked at her with the same intensity long ago. But maybe eight months in medi-bay changed a man for the worse. She hadn’t expected him to stick to his guns and choose his career over her. But, he had. He’d never shown even a glimmer of attraction for her—no matter how she’d tried to entice him and remind him of what they’d once had with her dress, her voice, or her body—he only seemed interested in those fragging ships. Long-standing frustration cinched a knot in her stomach. Anger settled over her shoulders like a mantle, causing them to tense. This is it. He’s obviously made his choice. Now I’m making mine.
She glared at his reconstituted mashed potato, sauerkraut and bratwurst breakfast, then at him. How in the hell could he live on such a rotten diet and expect to see the ass end of sixty anyway? Not that she should care.He could grow fatter than a gas ox, she didn’t care.
“Your breakfast.” More quietly, she hissed, “Sir.”
When he didn’t respond—not even his usual half-hearted grunt of a greeting—she stepped closer. “I said, your breakfast, sir. Where would you like me to put it?” Her teeth ground together and her mind instantly supplied a few suggestions.
The fighters made another pass and he seemed to sway in their wake. In fact, he closed his eyes as if savoring the moment. Lost in some invisible lover’s embrace like he’d once been lost in hers.
Frozen comet tails. That does it.
“How about here?” She didn’t merely drop the platter, she slammed it downward, adding an extra helping of gravity to the potatoes, mustard, and ketchup, sothe tray crashed to the floor and sent ceramic shards scattering. The tray’s destruction echoed off the windows, crooning sweet vengeance to her ears.

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Eva Lefoy writes and reads all kinds of romance, and is a certified Trekkie. She’s also terribly addicted to chocolate, tea, and hiking. One of these days, she’ll figure out the meaning of life, quit her job, and go travel the galaxy. Until then, she’s writing down all her dirty thoughts for the sake of future explorers.

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1 comment:

Jade said...

Hi nice reading your posst