Read Online Lunar Lovers by Emma Abbiss - Free Book Online Page B

died.
    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
    With a goofy grin on his fourteen-year-old face, Sam scanned
the newly updated chip embedded in his hand that now identified him as a
class-A student flyer. The scanner blinked white, accepting his license, and
the full-heavy, a company ship transporting mining equipment to their new site
on Twellen Moon where his younger brothers waited for them, rumbled to life
like an old male coming awake after an alcohol-induced nap.
    Pride in her twinkling silver-blue eyes, Sam’s mother leaned
over from the copilot seat to press a kiss to his cheek. “I can’t believe my
baby is learning to fly,” she said, brushing his unruly hair from his forehead.
    Normally he’d duck and weave to avoid his mother’s
demonstrative behavior but today he happily accepted her babying. He was, after
all, at the age of adulthood and adult males honored their females—especially
their mates and mothers—in all things.
    “I’m going to pull away from the dock, Samius,” his father
said, his low voice ringing with a happy note of satisfaction. “You can take
over, with your mother’s guidance, as soon as we’re clear.”
    Sam looked over his shoulder at his father who sat buckled
into the imposing captain’s chair and gave the large, thick-muscled male a nod
of his shaggy head. The disembark signal flashed green outside the bridge’s
main view screen and the docking clamps disengaged, releasing the jumbo-sized
ship to navigate away from the station.
    They accelerated slowly, giving Sam plenty of time to review
their plotted course and submit it to the station before taking over the
controls and heading out into the vast darkness of space. The first in a series
of short jumps went well and was met with praise from both his parents. No
matter how hard he tried to maintain a countenance of solemn concentration, he
couldn’t beat back the jittery joy that came with his first flight.
    Suddenly, without warning, the ship trembled as if in fear,
the hull screamed like an injured infant. Electrical lines broke and unraveled
from the ceiling, snaking wildly though the air, sparks burning up the oxygen,
making him choke on smoke-thickened atmosphere.
    On the control panel, every light indicator flashed red,
every system was offline. The hull had been—and continued to be—breached.
External see-alls showed…damn, a meteorite storm tearing holes through the
ship, breaching the hull, killing the engines, tearing through the vessel like
tiny missiles. They were almost past it, but the ship was more than crippled;
the vessel had become a deathtrap preparing to snap and kill them all.
    Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother jerk and
slump in her chair. Only the restraints prevented her unconscious body from
sliding to the floor. He released his seat buckle and checked her pulse…
Nothing.
    “Dad!” he shouted.
    No reply.
    As if in slow motion, he turned to find his father writhing
in his chair, one of the unraveled lines biting at his chest, sending jolts of
electricity through his muscular form, killing him before Sam’s eyes.
    Sam stumbled over to his father and knocked the line away.
Even before he checked, he knew he’d find no pulse. The burn marks and stench
of burnt skin and released bowels stole his hope.
    The emergency siren squealed to life, a high-pitched scream
that stabbed past his panicked thoughts only to peter out just as quickly,
going off-line like everything else.
    Trembling from head to foot, Sam ran across the bridge, dove
into a chute, and stumbled out onto the first main deck where emergency
capsules were located.
    The air was thin there, forcing him to pant and gasp as he
ran to the closest porthole and manually forced the door open to crawl into the
capsule. The door sealed, he pushed and kicked the release lever until at last
the tiny life raft popped free and floated away from the ship and the last of
the meteor storm. Sam choked on his shock and grief and guilt. Later he would
learn that an