Release date: September 23, 2018
Subgenre: Space colonisation, Hard science fiction
About Plato Crater:
The independent European base at Plato Crater is the Earth’s only hope
for an end to the Helium-3 crisis if they can’t persuade Yesha Chen,
Empress of the Moon, to trade. Every other Earth power will stop at
nothing to seize control of the Moon’s lucrative energy supply.
Jonah Barnes would rather have stayed on the Moon with Yesha, the love of his life, than be back on Earth negotiating a Helium-3 deal that might leave him being something other than human.
Yesha thought it was hard to lead a rebellion. Now she must subdue one, but her stolen battle droids have other ideas. To survive, she will need to choose between the man she loves and the woman she must become before it is too late.
Jonah Barnes would rather have stayed on the Moon with Yesha, the love of his life, than be back on Earth negotiating a Helium-3 deal that might leave him being something other than human.
Yesha thought it was hard to lead a rebellion. Now she must subdue one, but her stolen battle droids have other ideas. To survive, she will need to choose between the man she loves and the woman she must become before it is too late.
Excerpt:
Holly almost overbalanced as the commander let go of her arm. His frown
suggested that even his eyebrows did not approve of her. “You may have noticed
we’re in space. We must get these crates strapped down before the transit burn
starts. Now lend a hand, quick smart.”
“And if I don’t help?”
“I’ll order Jenkins to tie you down and you
can find out just how hard this floor is once the acceleration starts.”
She picked up a small crate, amazed at how
light it felt, and carried it to the racks.
Jenkins loomed over her. “Thread the buckles
like this,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle for such a big man.
Pick up, place, strap, strap. Holly fell into
an easy rhythm and soon neat rows of crates populated the rack. They clambered
up a narrow staircase into a workmanlike cabin that resembled nothing as much
as a large box with bare aluminium walls and a minimum of control
instruments. Holly followed them into the cabin and gasped. The wide blue globe
of Earth filled the wraparound row of viewports. Light cloud swathed half of a
dark landmass that she thought was Panamerica.
“No time for sightseeing. Holly, take that
couch over there. Jenkins, strap yourself in to the med bay.”
She stood for a moment. Earth had distracted
her. There must have been twenty crash-couches. Eighteen of them held curious
faces all turned her way.
“Team, we appear to have a stowaway. Please
keep an eye out for Holly. She hasn’t had the months of training that the
European government lavished on you lot.” Talbot sat in one of the two empty couches
and waved at Holly to take the other.
“Who’s driving this thing?” she asked.
“That would be me,” a disembodied voice said
from the walls. “Raatchi cyber PX-11 Navigation softmind, but you can call me
Benny, like the rest of the crew does.”
A siren wailed. “Crew to secure stations,”
Benny’s voice blared at maximum volume. “Prepare for transit burn in five, four,
three, two, one…”
Holly sank deep into the couch’s dense
foam as the crushing force of acceleration replaced the microgravity. She
lifted leaden arms to get her safety harness buckled. “Where are we going?” she
asked in a small voice.
Commander Talbot strained his head against
the g-force to focus on her. “You should have thought about that before you
climbed in that crate.”
She glared back at him. “I didn’t choose to
come here.”
“Be that as it may. If you had tried a little
harder to let us know you were there, we could have sent you back on the
stratoliner. Now, you’re stuck on the ESA shuttle until we can figure out how
to get you back.”
She slumped into the chair and gave up all
pretence of fighting the g-force. She knew that acronym. The newswebs had been
in a flurry all week about how the European Space Agency had readied the final
supply shuttle for its big project. “I’m going to the Moon?”
“Give that girl a prize,” shouted Jenkins
from the sick bay.
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About Carleton Chinner:
Carleton Chinner is an Australian born writer who grew up on a
remote farm in South Africa, where the trip to the town library was
the highlight of his week. He devoured anything science fiction,
fantasy and horror. And, when that wasn’t enough, turned to urban
legend and traditional tribal histories which combined to provide a
heady brew of stories.
He has settled in Australia as an adult but not before turning up unarmed at a gunfight, discovering dead bodies and fighting off sharks while spearfishing. When not writing, he works as a project manager on large corporate programs.
He has settled in Australia as an adult but not before turning up unarmed at a gunfight, discovering dead bodies and fighting off sharks while spearfishing. When not writing, he works as a project manager on large corporate programs.
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