QSFer R.M. Olson has a new queer sci-fi book out (bi, gay, lesbian), The Dark Between the Stars book 1: Inhuman.
A remote resource planet. A mysterious illness. And a rescue team frighteningly out of their depth.
It was supposed to have been an easy job: go in, kidnap or kill his mark, get out. Shine’s done plenty of jobs like this before, no problem. But when it all goes suddenly wrong, he has only one option left to save his skin.
He finds himself an unwilling volunteer on a medical mission to a remote resource planet. It sent in a distress call a week earlier, and then promptly went silent. No one knows why, and no one can contact them to find out. And, Shine is increasingly beginning to realize, every person on this mission is politically unimportant–a perfect crew of disposables. Their mission is to go in and figure out what happened, and save whoever they can. But he’s smart enough to realize that anything that could cause an entire mining colony to go silent is probably not something accustomed to leaving its victims alive. And after meeting the rest of the crew, he’s not sure that they’re any safer than what’s waiting for him out on the planet …
Set in the world of The Devil and the Dark, Inhuman is the first book in R.M. Olson’s gripping new space-horror series, The Dark Between Stars.
Warnings: ableism, alcohol consumption, alcoholism (mentioned), blood, child grooming (mentioned), death, drug use (mentioned), gore, internalized ableism, mild body horror, panic attacks, physical/verbal/emotional abuse (mentioned), police violence (mentioned), PTSD, suicidal ideation, trauma, violence
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Excerpt
The track through the forest that led to the village was narrow and overgrown—not a surprise, really, considering the amount of time since anyone had needed to land on this planet, from the records she’d read. It was a self-sustaining colony without much need for shipped-in supplies.
But it was unsettling, nonetheless.
The vegetation was unfamiliar—dark green leaves and oddly-shaped trees drooped with tangles of hanging vines, so thick it would be hard to walk through them, the warm, moist, heavy scent of flowers and rotting vegetation wafting across them with every sultry breeze.
There were sounds in the forest, too—chirps that could have been insects, or could have been birds, or could have been something else. Every so often, she caught sight of the sparkle of water through the trees, and the stagnant smell warned of swamps rather than running water.
And then they’d reached the settlement gates.
Knives gestured to the others to stay on their bikes as she dismounted, readjusting the clear mask over her face that should, hypothetically, protect her from any airborne illness.
As she stepped off her bike, her boots sinking into the damp vegetation, the wet, heavy air of the jungle washed up around her, the sticky heat of it itching under her collar and crawling up her spine.
The wall around the settlement had clearly once been somewhat charming—a whitewashed structure tall enough to keep the jungle out, with the small metal conductive nodules set at regular intervals along the top. The forcefield stretched out from them, covering the settlement while still giving the inhabitants a clear view of the sky. But in the intervening months, the cheery whitewash had faded, stains of reddish mildew creeping up the surface like oozing blood. The gates themselves, the solid bulk of them trimmed with decorative wrought iron, were cracked and rusting, and the black surface flaked away under her touch, leaving an ugly stain on her glove.
She shivered and resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her trouser leg, scrub off the stain of whatever the hell had happened here.
“Hello?” she called, bringing down the heavy knocker against the metal of the gate. “Is anyone here?”
There was no answer from inside the settlement.
She glanced around and saw the small speaking tube jutting out of the wall. She crossed over to try it, but something had made its nest inside the hole, and the wisps of grass and dirt sticking out of it, as well as a half-caught glimpse of something with far too many legs, told her she’d find no help there.
“No answer?” Puppy’s voice came through her earpiece.
She shook her head, and he sighed, a hint of concern in his tone for the first time since they’d started this mission. “Alright,” he said. “I suppose we’ll have to let ourselves in. You have the gate code?”
She nodded again and turned back to the control panel.
She tapped the code in on buttons that were black from mildew and slime, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure they would work.
She wasn’t sure, suddenly, that she wanted them to.
And then there was the loud creak of protesting metal, and Knives jumped back, her hands going to her weapons as the gates cracked and slid open.
The opening was a narrow one but wide enough for a bike. She stepped up to the entrance carefully, weapon drawn, but nothing jumped out at her—no monsters, no rotting bodies, no skeletons hanging across the entrance.
She scoffed at her own reaction.
She’d spent too long listening to stories. Death had been a routine part of her job back in the Stacks. It was only the fact that they were on one of the mysterious resources planets she’d grown up hearing tales about that made this any different from a day in the hospital.
“Let’s get our bikes inside, and I’ll close the gates,” she said, tapping her comm through to the general line.
Author Bio
R.M. Olson writes feel-good space opera featuring diverse casts, found families, and loads of action. R.M. has ridden the Trans Siberian railway, jumped off the highest bungee jump in the world, gone cage-diving with great white sharks, faced down a charging buffalo bull, and knows how to milk a goat. Currently they reside in Alberta, Canada with their four children, three cats, and a dog the size of a small bear. R.M. goes hiking and skiing more often than they probably have time for, eats more chocolate than is probably good for them, and reads more books than is probably prudent.
| Author Website | www.rmolson.com |
|---|---|
| Author Facebook | https://www.facebook.com/rmolsonauthor/ |