SFR= Science Fiction Romance. I have just the one novel for adults, but it’s the same story I write in my YA fantasies: love of a [alien] planet, caring for its land and community, a hidden world of fantasy and two characters who can’t seem to find the time around their ‘work’ to fall in love.
With that, here is my Book Quote Wednesday post:
It’s #BookQW and ‘work’ keeps us all busy—especially if poisonous spores will erupt over your planet.
More from our heroine Eve–an electorg (electronic humanoid)–in Chapter 2:
I let Evard ramble about his ruined plans while I considered the situation. I could make the trip. Although I was tall compared to women of my time, I was more average in height and brown-haired looks, so I didn’t stand out among ’torgs or Aardites.
Yet, the very reason the Docga chose me for a position with the Biosphere Corps, my empathic gift, caused my reluctance to mingle in populated areas. I hated the confusion of the urban live-work setting for our administrative ’torgs. The enclosed space seemed busier than some city-states on Aarde, or G47 as the Docga called the planet. I’d managed to avoid trips to Dome all but half a dozen times in the nearly fifty years I’d been a ’torg.
I straightened from the counter. “Unlike you, I know no one there to ask. Let’s wait and see what information Evangeline brings back. If it’s not enough, you go get a trim when the travel ban is lifted.”
“I’ll be happy to.”
With a trip postponed—hopefully permanently—I could resume my day. I opened one of the community notes, then the rest. What? Another two Zeffirites wanted to talk to me. I shoved the papers at Evard. “Look here. You haven’t been blabbing about the hornwort status, have you?”
He raised his hands. “Not me. They have their sources. We just…confer. Work talk.” But he studied the names, his frown growing. “Only half these people are my hires for the fungal project, and they know we’re well stockpiled to mitigate a spore release. It’s got to be some other complaint.”
I pinched my suddenly aching forehead. Zeffir was safe, far from the thermal areas where the hornworts grew, and our elders had emergency plans. So what was causing this level of community panic?
Evard blew out a breath and dropped into a chair at a monitor. “I’ll check the news, but I suspect it’s those bloody new ministers and their damned ‘don’t worry’ stance. That only promotes worry. And not just over the hornworts. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but my hires plan to approach the Docga when they arrive in two weeks. They’re in a positive tizzy about that idiotic decision to transfer us—Great Grünmann, that’s it! The new protocol. Someone’s heard something.”
I groaned. “What could be worse than a transfer?”
* * *
Read more about Passages.
Buy Passages for $1.99 on all retailers for one more week.
Leave a Reply