Raven is on a suicide mission. Jex is a biomech on a mission
to save humanity. They discover their mutual passion to destroy the enemy isn’t
their only desire.
A war against the Darch has raged for years, and humanity is
on the verge of extinction. Scientists have created biomechs to supplement as
warriors, but it’s just a temporary fix on what appears an insurmountable
problem. One desperate scientist injects JXS241, a biomech warrior, with what
he hopes is the solution for mankind’s survival. But the biomech is captured by
the enemy.
Raven Nirvanni survives on the fringes of a shattered
culture. While on a self-imposed suicide mission to annihilate an enemy
destroyer, she encounters the imprisoned biomech. Deciding the fate of humanity
far outweighs the destruction of a single ship, she recues him and decides to
ensure he reaches his destination.
With the enemy anticipating their every move, Raven is
completely taken aback when she realizes she’s falling for JXS241. But can she
really love a machine? And if so, can he reciprocate?
About the Authors:
L.J. Garland is a husband-wife writing team who has thrived
within their own romance for over 20 years. One of their favorite things to do
is get into a hot bubble bath and brainstorm story ideas. Amid their long list
of hobbies and interests, two activities stand above the rest. They are both
licensed helicopter pilots with hundreds of hours of flight time, and they
practice with a variety of weaponry from long bows to high-powered combat
rifles. This, along with years of military experience, gives their books a
heightened sense of reality. They enjoy their life together in a house filled
with love, laughter, and adventure along with their three cats, whistling
guinea pig, and three boisterous sons—who conspire to ensure there’s never a
dull moment. They love hearing from readers who’ve enjoyed their stories at mail@lj-garland.com.
Excerpt:
The needle slid between the third and fourth vertebrae in
his neck. A flash of heat shot through him. More pressure was exerted to
penetrate the synthetic cartilage of his neurospine. Accessing his internal
response center, he raised the pain threshold, but not so high he couldn’t
monitor the procedure. Immobile, he waited for it to be finished.
“Done.” The doctor stepped back. “JXS241, system check?”
“No change,” he said, and reset his pain threshold. “As you
said, Doctor Mechins. Just a pinch.”
“Good.” The doctor made a note on his techpad. “There are
three biomechs just outside the lab, waiting to escort you and the information
I implanted into your neurospine to the planet Altaiga.”
“Give me a ship, doctor. I’ll get myself to Altaiga.” Taking
three biomechs away from the war to act as escort was a waste of resources.
“The information you carry is critical to the war effort.”
Dr. Mechins tapped the techpad. “You’ll take the escort.”
JXS241 rose from his chair. The decision was illogical, but
sometimes humans determined situations based on feelings rather than sound
military strategy. He yanked a black shirt over his head and shrugged into his
military-issue jacket.
The science lab shook, equipment toppled, and assorted
paraphernalia crashed to the floor. Alarms barked to life, an alert that the
base was under attack. Dr. Mechins’ reserved manner morphed to terror. His gaze
rolled toward the ceiling.
“They’ve discovered us.” He grabbed JXS241’s arm, dragged
him to the lab door. “You’ve got to get out of here. Take the other biomechs,
commandeer a ship, and get to Altaiga. The fate of humanity may very well
depend on you.”
JXS241 stepped through the doorway. Three heavily armed
escorts awaited him. One shoved a pulse rifle into his hands. He grasped the
familiar weapon, glanced at it, and toggled the setting to kill.
“Wait.” The doctor clutched his shoulder. “You may notice
some changes—”
The lab exploded. Hot twisted metal and glass missiled
through the air, spiking everything in its path. A rush of heat shoved Dr.
Mechins against JXS241, and they tumbled into the outer hallway.
Hands grabbed the biomech, lifted him to his feet, and
propelled him away from the lab. On the floor lay the doctor, ripped metal and
shards of glass jutting from his back, blood pooling beneath him.
“Medic required at lab, level seven,” the tallest biomech
said into his com-band. His gaze shifted from the doctor to JXS241. “In line,
soldier. Primary objective is to obtain a ship and fly out.”
JXS241 moved behind the other biomechs, and they hastened to
the hangar where pilots scrambled to their fighters.
Scattered throughout the bay, sparks of light appeared and
stretched into beings. Six-and-a-half to seven-foot men and women materialized.
Graced with flaxen hair, and beatific smiles, immense gossamer wings protruded
from their backs. With a serene facade they surveyed the hangar.
The enemy had arrived.
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