Across the Dark Horizon Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Praise for Tagan Shepard

  Other Books by Tagan Shepard

  About the Author

  Author's Note

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Synopsis

  Major Charlene “Charlie” Hawk has been in the thick of battle many times, but she’s never had a deployment quite like this. A prison riot on the Moon. Fifty heavily armed, violent felons with nothing to lose. Two dozen innocent corporate drones with no way of escape. There’s no retreat and failure isn’t an option—not with so many civilian lives in her hands. And especially that one life.

  Gail Moore runs Moon Colony with a soft heart, a head for business, and a stomach full of fear. Fear of the cold, dark lunar surface. Fear of blood on her hands. Mostly, though, fear of the way her eyes linger on the soldier who drops into her domain full of unquenchable courage and a body she can’t ignore.

  The odds of survival were never good. The odds they could make something of their mutual attraction were even worse. But as the inevitable orbit of their lunar prison carries them away from the life-giving power provided by the sun, their chances evaporate faster than the fading light. If they are to survive, they need to move quickly. Death waits for them across the dark horizon.

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  Praise for the Works of Tagan Shepard

  Visiting Hours

  Professor Alison Reynolds is an academic with a teaching career at Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU) in Richmond. Her best friend, Beth, is in the university hospital due to complications with her second pregnancy, bringing Alison for a visit, and giving the story its title, Visiting Hours. The visits will start an unexpected stream of life-changing events for Alison. Dr. Jess Baker is an up-and-coming doctor, new to VCU, who has recently been recruited from Portland, Oregon…the story about these female characters is solely about them and their feelings for one another—and the main characters’ initial encounters are entertaining and heartwarming. Jess is charming with a bit of rogue-flare, yet she shows a sensitive, daunted side when interacting with Ali. For her part, Ali puts up a defensive front that’s difficult for her to overcome, but when she does, dealing with her feelings makes for some well-written, emotional scenes. Visiting Hours is an emotional tale filled with denial, pain, struggle, commitment, and finally, more than one kind of deep, abiding love.

  —Lambda Literary Review

  The writing overall really was great, very impressive for a debut. This is not an insta-love story which I really like. Their relationship grows naturally. What was really impressive was the chemistry. It is absolutely there and in your face, and I love that. This is an easy book to recommend for pure romance fans. I’m always happy to find good new authors.

  —Lex Kent, goodreads

  I liked to read a romance with a character who identifies as bisexual and who isn’t portrayed with stereotypes. I liked the tension around Ali’s reticence to enter into a relationship with a lesbian. The climax is painful and crushing for the characters. I think I held my breath for several paragraphs. This is a good read by an author who has done her technical research (I believe she works in a hospital) which adds depth to the story. Jess and Ali’s first encounter is one of the best first encounter scenes in a romance novel I’ve read in a long time. … is Tagan Shepard’s first novel I believe and I’m going to keep my eye out for her next one.

  —The Lesbian Review

  Bird on a Wire

  This is the second novel by Tagan Shepard. I said for her successful debut that it is a sign that many more fine books are yet to come. I am glad that I was right. Bird on a Wire is even better than Visiting Hours. The whole plot happens in just a few days but with a lot of flashbacks. I am not a fan of flashbacks, but I have nothing against them if they are reasonable and well-executed, as here. Robin is a good person, but her behavior can sometimes be quite frustrating and contradictory, and the author uses that very successfully to create some fine-tuned drama and tension all the way to the end. With all main elements done well, this makes for another very good book by this author. Keep them coming!

  —Pin, goodreads

  This is a book I had no idea how it would end. It looked like one way, then another. Shepard kept me turning the pages since I had no idea. I will say I was very happy with the ending. It was what I was hoping for. This is Shepard’s second book and both have been good. She has become an author that I will automatically read now. If you are looking for a good drama book with a little romance, give this a read.

  —Lex Kent, goodreads

  Other Bella Books by Tagan Shepard

  Visiting Hours

  Bird on a Wire

  About the Author

  Tagan Shepard is a nerdy lesbian who lives in Virginia with her wife and two cats. She has dreamed of writing a sci-fi novel since she first laid eyes on Deanna Troi. This is her third novel with Bella Books.

  Copyright © 2019 by Tagan Shepard

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  First Bella Books Edition 2019

  eBook released 2019

  Editor: Cath Walker

  Cover Designer: Sandy Knowles

  ISBN: 978-1-64247-100-7

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Author’s Note

  One of my principal characters, Gail Moore, is a member of the Lakota Sioux tribe. The manner in which American society and the Lakota themselves refer to members of this tribe is fluid, particularly as personal identity continues to evolve in this country. In the past, the
Lakota people have been lumped together with the other Sioux nations and so some Lakota prefer not to use the term Sioux at all. More specifically, Gail’s parents are members of the Oglála and Miniconjou Lakota Sioux. These tribes are also referred to as Ogallala or Oglála Lakȟóta Oyáte and Mnikȟówožu respectively. I have chosen to use “Lakota Sioux”, “Oglala” and “Miniconjou,” the anglicized terms rather than the Lakotan, a language I do not speak.

  In my research I read several books by and about LGBTQ and Two Spirit Indigenous people. If you are interested in own voice stories, I would highly recommend Love Beyond Body, Space & Time: An Indigenous LGBT Sci-Fi Anthology, edited by Hope Nicholson.

  Dedication

  As always, to Cris.

  To the moon and back.

  Chapter One

  The dull, rhythmic pounding of Gail’s feet thudding into rubberized metal filled the dark room. Her breath, labored and wet in the thin, dry air, echoed in her ears. Sweat trickled in a thin bead across her hairline, snaking behind her ear and down her long neck. The scent was sour and sharp. It smelled like fear. She ran harder.

  The first blow hadn’t even looked violent. More like a brotherly slap on the back. Still, her security guard crumpled in a heap. Gail picked up her pace in a calm, calculated escalation. The second attack, coming too quickly after the first for any possible defense, levelled the other guard, and there was no turning back.

  Gail saw the reaction, though the whole scene played out in pristine silence. A half-dozen prisoners poured into the hall, mouths wide with mute shouts. With each footfall, the tablet playing the security footage wobbled on the display of her treadmill.

  The real fight had started off-screen. Search as she might, Gail hadn’t been able to find a surveillance camera that captured it. She had to settle for this limited view. While the attackers surged across the screen, disappearing through the opposite side of the frame, the prisoners that started the whole encounter picked up the weapons their guards had dropped. They checked ammunition calmly while the real action was happening elsewhere. Their smooth disinterest annoyed Gail. Her face pinched into a scowl.

  Gail was running too fast now. The heart monitor strapped across her chest sent a warning to the treadmill and an alert flashed on its display, telling her to slow her pace. She ignored both the alarm and the scream of her lungs as she sucked at the insubstantial, recycled air. The time stamp at the bottom right corner of the video indicated that in exactly three seconds the next guard would enter the frame. She counted them down mentally, her lips tracing the numbers as sweat collected on her upper lip.

  Her eyes flashed to the left of the screen, picking up the guard and tracking his movement. The black and white camera mounted ten feet above them recorded no sound when the butt of the prisoner’s newly acquired rifle connected with the guard’s jaw. Despite the silence Gail felt the crack of bone. She winced at the mist of blood, perfectly visible in her tablet’s high-resolution display. For a moment she could even taste the metallic tang. The guard’s eyes rolled back in his head as he disappeared from view.

  Gail’s legs burned past her point of endurance, and she slowed perceptively. The treadmill matched her pace and the alert finally stopped flashing as her heart rate dropped below the red line. On the screen in front of her, the action also tapered. Her guards had been woefully outnumbered and taken by surprise. The screen flashed from one camera angle to another with only a brief pause to show that those guards who weren’t on the ground were retreating from their stations, the panic clear in their wide eyes.

  The screen switched back to footage from the original camera as Gail slowed to a jog. This was the part she needed to focus on. The reason she kept watching the compiled footage over and over again. Anyone could tell that the man entering the frame was the catalyst for all this violence. He carried himself like a man without fear. A man with authority. A man with acolytes to do his bidding.

  She’d spoken to him a week ago in an attempt to avoid the scene playing out in grainy footage on her tablet. After the first work detail failed to report for their shift he’d sent a letter to her office, detailing the prisoners’ concerns. She went to negotiate and found him lounging on his bunk like a warlord, smug and sly. When she asked to speak to him, he’d shouted a barking, raspy laugh that spoke of years of hard living. What followed was less a conversation than a chance for him to stare at her breasts and lovingly detail his actions toward women like her that had landed him here. She could hear snickering from the rooms on either side of his as she left, knowing in her gut that this would end badly.

  He walked into the frame slowly and stopped in the dead center of the room. Looking around with a complacent smile, his gaze fell on the guard with the broken jaw. Only the guard’s legs were visible, but they twitched and dragged as he writhed in pain. The man smiled, then pulled back his stained boot and struck out. The guard’s legs went still.

  A prisoner hurried up to the man in charge and held a handgun out to him. The leader looked at it for a long time, tracing its curves and its sharp angles with an almost indecent serenity. He wrapped a large hand around the grip and lifted it from his subordinate’s hands. The other man hurried off, leaving him alone with the gun, the legs of the wounded guard just visible.

  Gail flinched in anticipation as the man’s gaze went back to the guard. Every time she watched this moment, she expected him to level his weapon and squeeze the trigger. When he turned his eyes away, Gail again sighed in relief. The light moment was short-lived. The man turned his attention now to the camera. He stared into it, a smile forming on his lips and his thumb absentmindedly stroking the barrel of the gun.

  Something in that smile made Gail’s stomach twist with disgust. It was as though he was looking directly at her rather than an inert piece of electronic equipment. She did not want him to see her. She never wanted him to see her. When he leveled the barrel of his pistol at the camera, it was almost a relief. He held the gun there for what felt like a long time. She had time to look down the barrel. To imagine the bullet waiting at the end of it.

  The shot came with a flash of light followed by blackness when the camera disintegrated. The video file ended and the replay controls popped up on the blank screen. Gail was a businesswoman, trained to look for the positives in any deal. The only positive she could take from this event was that only one shot was fired. Apart from one severely fractured jaw, the only permanent injuries were to the guards’ pride. Even the guard with the broken jaw was safe, recovering in the facility’s Clinic.

  Gail slowed to a walk and activated the tablet’s voice-to-text feature. She checked the glowing red digits of the clock above the water fountain. It was far too early to text, so instead she instructed the software to begin an email to her secretary.

  “Please inform me as soon as the support team’s plane is on approach.”

  Once the email had gone, she drained her water bottle. It was still very early. She guessed that she had two hours until her assistant would receive the message. The inbound team shouldn’t be in range for some time after that. With a few quick swipes on the screen of her tablet, she cued up the video again.

  Hitting play, she started to run.

  Chapter Two

  Major Charlene Hawk had always enjoyed flying. She’d grown up on the lower end of middle class in the rural South, and her family never had the money for a vacation that included air travel. She hadn’t even been on a plane until the Army sent her to the second half of her Basic Training at Fort Huachuca in Arizona. It had been that moment when she fell in love with the feeling. Not only the rush during takeoff, when the blast of speed forced her back into her seat, but also the sense of importance being on the flight in the first place.

  She had been the only woman selected for intelligence training that year. The significance wasn’t lost on her then and it wasn’t lost on her now. Ever since that first adrenaline and pride-filled trip, flying had become full of expectation for her. She would board a plane
heading to her next posting and know that she had another chance to prove her worth.

  This particular flight was like no other she had ever taken, but the feeling of tearing through the skies was familiar enough to set her at ease. It didn’t hurt that the seats on this plane were vastly more comfortable than those on commercial flights. The entirety of Charlie Company was on board, so there was no room in the coach section for her. In fact, more than half her Company was in makeshift seating in the cargo hold. She lounged in first class for the first time in her life and tried to feel guilty for loving the extravagance of it all. The biggest difference, however, was not luxury of the first-class cabin. It was the view through the porthole windows.

  Rather than the cotton-ball fluff of cloud tops, she saw a vast blanket of inky blackness pinpricked with glittering stars. It was disorienting to see the empty void of space from her airplane window. Though, she supposed, she was technically in a space shuttle, not an airplane, no matter how much it resembled the latter. The engineers at Andrus Industries had inserted their new technology into the interior schematics they’d been using for years in commercial airliners.

  Hawk had watched the endless news coverage of their breakthrough in space travel with the same detached interest as the rest of the world. She’d been occupied with fighting a war at the time, so she’d caught up on some of the finer points years after the initial breakthrough. She had marveled at the idea of drastically shortened space flights but was sure she would never have the opportunity to experience it firsthand. Yet here she was, reading through details of her team’s mission while the Earth quickly shrank from view. She checked her watch. They’d boarded less than an hour ago and in just over two more hours they would be landing at the Andrus Industries’ colony on the Moon.