by Gun Brooke
Moon De Cruz hasn’t had an easy life. Born a slave, she’s stationed aboard a Bramalian trader ship for twenty years. Miraculously, she survives a pirate attack and flees in an escape pod. As she crashes onto an uninhabited planet, she learns to become one with nature.
Four years later, Captain Beaux Lestarion is orbiting a virgin planet that appears rich in natural resources. She shuttles miners to the surface, but unexpected complications suggest someone is deliberately sabotaging their efforts to probe for stones, ores, and minerals.
When Moon saves Beaux’s life, Beaux is drawn to the beautiful young woman against her better judgment. Moon doubts a seasoned and cynical captain working for the government can help to defend the planet—no matter how attractive she might be. Reluctant allies or secret enemies—can love survive the challenge?
Praise for Gun Brooke
Insult to Injury
“This novel tugged at my heart all the way, much the same way as Coffee Sonata. It’s a story of new beginnings, of rediscovering oneself, of trusting again (both others and oneself).”—Jude in the Stars
“If you love a good, slow-burn romantic novel, then grab this book.”—Rainbow Reflections
“[A] light romance that left me with just the right amount of “aw shucks” at the end.”—C-Spot Reviews
Wayworn Lovers
“Wayworn Lovers is a super dramatic, angsty read, very much in line with Brooke’s other contemporary romances…I’m definitely in the ‘love them’ camp.”—The Lesbian Review
Thorns of the Past
“What I really liked from the offset is that Brooke steered clear of the typical butch PI with femme damsel in distress trope. Both main characters are what I would call ordinary women—they both wear suits for work, they both dress down in sweatpants and sweatshirts in the evening. As a result, I instantly found it a lot easier to relate, and connect with both. Each of their pasts hold dreadful memories and pain, and the passages where they opened up to each other about those events were very moving.”—Rainbow Reviews
“I loved the romance between Darcy and Sabrina and the story really carried it well, with each of them learning that they have a safe haven with the other.”—The Lesbian Review
Soul Unique
“This is the first book that Gun Brooke has written in a first person perspective, and that was 100% the correct choice. She avoids the pitfalls of trying to tell a story about living with an autism spectrum disorder that she’s never experienced, instead making it the story of someone who falls in love with a person living with Asperger’s…Soul Unique is her best. It was an ambitious project that turned out beautifully. I highly recommend it.”—The Lesbian Review
“Yet another success from Gun Brooke. The premise is interesting, the leads are likeable and the supporting characters are well-developed. The first person narrative works well, and I really enjoyed reading about a character with Asperger’s.”—Melina Bickard, Librarian, Waterloo Library (London)
The Blush Factor
“Gun Brooke captures very well the two different ‘worlds’ the two main characters live in and folds this setting neatly into the story. So, if you are looking for a well-edited, multi-layered romance with engaging characters this is a great read and maybe a re-read for those days when comfort food is a must.”—Lesbians on the Loose
Fierce Overture
“Gun Brooke creates memorable characters, and Noelle and Helena are no exception. Each woman is ‘more than meets the eye’ as each exhibits depth, fears, and longings. And the sexual tension between them is real, hot, and raw.”—Just About Write
September Canvas
“In this character-driven story, trust is earned and secrets are uncovered. Deanna and Faythe are fully fleshed out and prove to the reader each has much depth, talent, wit and problem-solving abilities. September Canvas is a good read with a thoroughly satisfying conclusion.”—Just About Write
Lambda Literary Award Finalist Sheridan’s Fate
“Sheridan’s fire and Lark’s warm embers are enough to make this book sizzle. Brooke, however, has gone beyond the wonderful emotional explorations of these characters to tell the story of those who, for various reasons, become differently-abled. Whether it is a bullet, an illness, or a problem at birth, many women and men find themselves in Sheridan’s situation. Her courage and Lark’s gentleness and determination send this romance into a ‘must read.’”—Just About Write
Escape: Exodus Book Three
“I’ve been a keen follower of the Exodus series for a while now and I was looking forward to the latest installment. It didn’t disappoint. The action was edge-of-your-seat thrilling, especially towards the end, with several threats facing the Exodus mission. Some very intriguing subplots were introduced, and I look forward to reading more about these in the next book.”—Melina Bickard, Librarian, Waterloo Library, London (UK)
Pathfinder: Exodus Book Two
“I love Gun Brooke. She has successfully merged two of my reading loves: lesfic and sci-fi.”—Inked Rainbow Reads
Advance: Exodus Book One
“Advance is an exciting space adventure, hopeful even through times of darkness. The romance and action are balanced perfectly, interesting the audience as much in the fleet’s mission as in Dael and Spinner’s romance. I’m looking forward to the next book in the series!”—All Our Worlds: Diverse Fantastic Fiction
The Supreme Constellations Series
“Protector of the Realm has it all; sabotage, corruption, erotic love and exhilarating space fights. Gun Brooke’s second novel is forceful with a winning combination of solid characters and a brilliant plot. The book exemplifies her growth as inventive storyteller and is sure to garner multiple awards in the coming year.”—Just About Write
Protector of the Realm “is first and foremost a romance, and whilst it has action and adventure, it is the romance that drives it.The book moves along at a cracking pace, and there is much happening throughout to make it a good page-turner. The action sequences are very well done, and make for an adrenaline rush.”—The Lesbian Review
“Brooke is an amazing author. Never have I read a book where I started at the top of the page and don’t know what will happen two paragraphs later. She keeps the excitement going, and the pages turning.”—Family and Friends Magazine
Lunar Eclipse
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Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.
Lunar Eclipse
© 2019 By Gun Brooke. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-461-8
This Electronic Original Is Published By
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: December 2019
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Art By Gun Brooke
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Romances
Course of Action
Coffee Sonata
Sheridan’s Fate
September Canvas
Fierce Overture
&nb
sp; Speed Demons
The Blush Factor
Soul Unique
A Reluctant Enterprise
Piece of Cake
Thorns of the Past
Wayworn Lovers
Insult to Injury
Lunar Eclipse
Supreme Constellations series
Protector of the Realm
Rebel’s Quest
Warrior’s Valor
Pirate’s Fortune
Exodus series
Advance
Pathfinder
Escape
Arrival
Treason
Novella Anthology
Change Horizons
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank the Academy…whoops, wrong speech! *smile*
All jokes aside, I’m always thankful that Bold Strokes Books, with Len Barot in the captain’s chair and Sandy Lowe at the helm, continue to have faith in me and my stories. I never take it for granted, and each approved proposal makes me very giddy and excited—even after twenty-five books.
The entire crew (to continue the space opera command structure analogy) at BSB are nothing short of amazing. Among them, Dr. Shelley Thrasher, my editor since day one, stands out as my most shining star. Without Shelley, I’d fall flat on my face. Cindy Cresap, Carsen Taite, Sheri, Ruth Sternglantz, and so many others keep us authors looking our best in the eyes of the reader. Thank you, everyone, your hard work doesn’t go unnoticed.
My first readers are also such an amazing resource. Eden, Sam, Georgi, Yara, and Annika kept me and my story aligned and helped me not goof up completely. The process of writing and creating became even more fun when I knew you were invested in and enjoying the story.
My family. Where would I be without you? I know. Lost in space, for sure! Elon, Malin, Henrik, Pentti, Sanna, Ikkis, William, Sami, Elina, Nicolas, Ove, Monica…You are all my world.
My friends…Jack, Birgitta, Soli, Joey…
Practically nothing, except tardigrades, can exist in the coldness of intergalactic space, and neither can I, as a person or as a writer, function well without the people above.
My beloved readers—you are an amazing bunch and I hope I’ll hear from even more of you as your notes, Facebooks shoutouts, emails, tweets, and IGs are always, always welcome. I especially want to acknowledge the fanfic readers who follow me to my published work. Such loyalty shall not go unnoticed.
So, buckle up and enjoy the ride as we hurtle through space together!
For Elon
For Nicolas, 2½, who was injured when I was finishing this story. I’m so thankful that you are in one piece again, little man.
Prologue
Intergalactic Space
Territorial Date 6034
Number 833 sat up in her cot, blinking. Emergency lighting glowed a fluorescent red in the room. Alarm klaxons blared, making her ears hurt. Outside in the corridor, boot-clad feet ran in both directions. 833 threw off the thin blanket and jumped out of the cot. Above her, she heard 277 murmur indistinguishable words in a trembling voice.
“Come down! We have to get out of here!” 833 tugged at 277’s blanket, but the terrified woman held on to it, shaking her head wildly. “Don’t be an idiot. We have to reach our emergency posts right away, or matron will airlock us.” If the threat of the much-feared matron wouldn’t make them move, nothing would. It was no use. No matter how much 833 tried to persuade the other five women in the small quarters, none of them would budge. She considered carrying the youngest and smallest of them, 998, but the girl kept screaming and kicking at her.
Explosions roared through the ship. For a moment, it seemed they had lost inertial gyroscopes. 833 staggered sideways but managed to grip the pole holding the cots above hers in place. She pulled her blanket close and wrapped it around her shoulders. If these women thought she was going to hide in here and face the wrath of the much-feared matron, they were mistaken.
She pressed the sensor next to the door, and it hissed open. Outside, acrid smoke and the pulsating red lights, combined with the klaxons that seemed to have increased their volume, all added to the mayhem that met her.
Soldiers and civilians ran past each other as if they had no idea where to go. Pulling the blanket closer around her, 833 ran on bare feet along the wall, much-larger men almost knocking her over as they tried to reach their duty stations. Used to staying clear of big feet in hard boots, as no slave was allowed footwear, she stayed to the side and kept going.
When 833 reached her emergency station, nobody was there. Not even the matron. The small area next to the cluster of ladders that gave access to all parts of the ship if the lifts were down was abandoned. What was going on?
Gazing out through the narrow opening in the wall, 833 saw only people running as if they were on fire—nobody paid her any attention whatsoever. She was used to this. After all, slaves were invisible, but she was about to do something strictly forbidden and had to be sure.
Hurrying over to the computer console that matron used whenever they had chores in this part of the ship, 833 punched in the terrifying woman’s code, which she rarely changed. The screen flickered, but then it came to life. Deftly, using forbidden knowledge, 833 pulled up the information showing why they were at high alert. At first, she just stared. This couldn’t be possible.
Multiple enemy vessels were attacking the ship. The data didn’t reveal who they were or where they came from. The captain seemed set on standing his ground, focusing all his efforts on fighting back. Why hadn’t he at least ordered the civilians into the escape pods? Children were aboard, damn it! Perhaps he was afraid the enemy would shoot them like fleeing rodents if they jettisoned the micro vessels?
Deciding right then that she would make her way up to the deck where the family pods were located and help the families board them when the captain gave the orders, 833 left the emergency station and found the ladder that led to deck twenty-seven. She tied her thin blanket around her waist, not about to lose her only possession.
The climb was treacherous, and she hoped the families were still able to use the lifts. If anyone caught her using one, she’d be sectioned or, worse, airlocked. Climbing the narrow metal ladders was difficult even for her, and she was strong. Each time the ship lurched from a new explosion, 833 held on tight because her life depended on it. Her feet ached from climbing barefoot, but she kept going. Seven decks. She could do it.
Finally, she saw the number behind the rods of the ladder and knew she had arrived. After stepping off it, she enjoyed the pure bliss of standing on the cool deck. Her soles felt as if they were on fire.
She had expected deck twenty-seven to be crowded. It wasn’t. It was empty. Sobbing now, from sheer frustration, 833 slammed her palm against the bulkhead. Hadn’t the captain ordered the civilians to abandon ship yet? What was going on? Why hadn’t the families taken their lives into their own hands and simply come to the deck where they had at least a chance to survive?
Deep inside, 833 knew the answer. The wealthy and ruling classes of the Territory were spoiled. They were used to being catered to, pampered, and having all the decisions premade for them. None of those families would probably think they could save themselves. Unless told by someone in authority, they would sit in their quarters and wait in vain for someone like her to show up to lead them to safety.
833 found another computer console, and now she couldn’t care less if anyone saw her. She pulled up the information she had looked at before. It had changed. Now it did say “abandon ship.” Why it wasn’t being broadcast over the communication system, she had no idea. Perhaps the system had been damaged in the attack.
An explosion, bigger than any other she had felt before, sent her flying. She hit the wall headfirst and thought she might pass out. Pulling herself along the deck, crawling with the last of her strength, only one thought flickered through 833’s mind. She would reach the nearest pod and survive.
The ship stomped and moaned around her, and 833 knew it would break
apart any moment. Then she was floating. The inertial gyroscopes had to be down. She felt the bulkhead against her sore feet and kicked off, trying to aim at one of the pod hatches. Holding her hands out in front of her, she clawed for the lever but missed it. She cried out in panic but felt a sudden jolt when her blanket got stuck on it at the very last moment.
Sobbing again, she pulled at the lever, and the hatch swung open. She shifted her grip and grabbed the inside lever, then pulled herself in through the narrow, rectangular opening. Tugging at the lever, she tried to close the hatch, but it stopped short by a few centimeters. As the ship rocked again, she tore at the hatch, breaking her nails in the process, before she saw her blanket was stuck in the bottom of the opening. Furiously, she ripped it free, and then the hatch closed as it should.
The protocol for escape pods was simple and taught even to slaves in case they had to assist one of the civilians or a wounded member of the crew. She strapped herself in with the six-point harness, fastened the seventh strap around her forehead, and slammed the large red sensors on each armrest. Three seconds would pass before something happened, but she hadn’t thought they’d feel like years. Then suddenly she was pressed by an unspeakable force into the seat as the family-sized pod hurtled into space. One circular viewport, the size of both her palms, was located across from her seat. As the pod turned, she saw the ship she had lived on as a slave for almost twenty years. The enormous vessel was breaking apart in front of her, and the tiny dots she saw being thrown into open space were people. At that instant, it didn’t matter if they were slaves, soldiers, or civilians. They were all equal as they headed into the dark eternity of death the same way.