Starbound

  STARBOUND

  THE STARSTRUCK SAGA

  BOOK 5

  S.E. Anderson

  STARBOUND

  © S. E. Anderson 2019

  Cover Art by S.E. Anderson

  Edited by Michelle Dunbar, Black Cat Edits and Annaproofing.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, scanning, uploading to the internet, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher and/or author, except in the case of brief quotations for reviews.

  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 persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  First published in 2019 by Bolide Publishing Limited

  http://bolidepublishing.com

  ISBN 978-1-912996-16-2

  In a saga, the author inevitably

  dedicates one of their books

  to the readers,

  to you.

  I shouldn’t have waited

  this long

  to do this,

  but you are worth the wait,

  and I hope this book is half as worthy

  as you are.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Prologues don’t need a name but I’ll call this one Steve

  CHAPTER One

  I Ruin Some Perfectly Good Tea

  CHAPTER TWO

  Interplanetary Sibling Rivalry, Now in Technicolor

  CHAPTER THREE

  Return to Nor-Marcy

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Career Options for the Hardened Space Criminal

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SWAT Teams Make Terrible Alarm Clocks

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Wonders of Pyrinian Administration

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Drunkenly Stumbling on Earth-Shattering Secrets

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A Ship Is Born

  CHAPTER NINE

  Book Five, It’s Time for a Wedding!

  CHAPTER TEN

  Crisis-Proofing Your Teenage Spaceship

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I Get Myself an Island

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Coming Face-to-Face with the Clones of Our Past

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Returning to the Land of the Lost

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Having Fun Isn’t Hard When You’ve Got a Library Card

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Worst contact

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Caught Reading My Sister’s Diary

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sally Webber Goes to Washington

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Absolutely Unexpected Terrible Day

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  This Isn’t An Action Movie, It’s The End Of The World

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Sibling Trap

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Saving the World in All the Wrong Places

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Pretty Badass Rescue, If I Do Say So Myself

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Totally Not a Zombie Romance

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Here’s to the Nicest Guy I Know

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sally’s choice

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  A good old-fashioned fight scene

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Trouble in paradox

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  All the Joys of Time Travel, None of the Miles

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I Hate Making Terrible Decisions

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I Used to Think Being Trapped in a Library Was a Dream

  CHAPTER THIRTY -ONE

  I didn’t bring the right dress for this homecoming

  PROLOGUE

  Prologues don’t need a name,

  but I’ll call this one Steve.

  The first time I died, it was a doozy of a death, and I didn’t even get to see it.

  The second time, my life flashed before my eyes in the form of an ‘80s movie flashback sequence—record scratch, freeze frame, and all. So, that was a nice change.

  Now, you're probably wondering how I got here: lying under an overpass in a pool of my own blood, wearing the most hideous dress you've ever seen. I know, awful, isn't it? As for the how-I-got-here part, well, it's a long story. As I said, flashback sequence. It’s gonna explain everything.

  I'm stating it for the record: I hate flashbacks. Start in the middle of the action, confuse the viewer, and then, bam! Send them back to two weeks earlier when their life gets turned upside down. Really makes them hang in there. Or makes them really hate the narrator, whichever comes first.

  So why this was how I was going to live my last moments on Earth, I didn't know. My mind was flickering back to all the moments in my life that led to my demise to being, well, lying here, thinking about these moments that led to my demise. All the little bits that added up to me being shot in the stomach.

  Yeah. That.

  Did I mention it was painful, too? The most pain I had ever experienced, and I'd had all my atoms spliced and chucked halfway across the galaxy several times, so I've got a pretty reliable scale here. Not to mention I had died before, though I really hadn't noticed it at the time.

  My hand clutched the gaping wound in my abdomen, and I couldn't help but think how sticky all this blood was. I couldn't tell which was the part that hurt the most: the wound in my stomach, slowly killing me as my blood rushed out, free at last, or the thought of never making things right between us, of never seeing their faces again, of never telling them everything I had intended to.

  So, how did I end up here? Well, how much time do you have, and how far back should we go? Personally, I'm reliving my greatest hits. Like when I almost got to sleep with a starship captain, but he ended up having the same name as my ex, the same one who had been brutally blown up by my boss and my roommate. It's a long story.

  Or maybe I should go all the way back to that stupid hot-air balloon that cost me my job and started me on the most insane course my life could ever have taken. It had been fun, for a little while, but now that I was dying, I found a lot of it regrettable.

  Blinding light filled what was left of my vision, and all I could think was that people were right when they said how annoying it was in their own near-death experiences. It seemed so far away, yet still somehow within reach, as if it hung in the air before me, just waiting for me to grab it.

  Or maybe that was just the spaceship circling overhead.

  The light shut off. I had won.

  I had also been shot, which sucked. And I was dying, which sucked even more.

  Anyway, the end of my life. End of the road. You missed quite a bit, but I think that's my fault. I have to tell you how I ended up here. I have to tell someone. I can't just die here; I hadn’t offended the stripper yet.

  Well, I guess I can. Since I am.

  I thought dying was supposed to be a calm process of numbness and transition.

  I was dead wrong, then I was just plain dead.

  Until I wasn't.

  One Year Ago

  “5, 4, 3, 2, 1…. Happy new year!”

  The club erupted into cheer, brimming glasses of colorful drinks held high as they started a warm round of “Auld Lang Syne,” which quickly dropped the beat and moved on to something with a little more oomph. The DJ was having the time of his life up there, clutching half his headphones to his ear and shouting something I couldn’t hear, and soon could not see as the balloons fell from t
he ceiling and a very affectionate drag queen threw confetti in my face.

  I sputtered as the small pieces of paper hit my eyes and stuck to my lips, and I brushed them away with my wrist. I shouldn’t have been looking up like that; I shouldn’t have…

  Not everything is an emergency, I told myself, taking a deep breath. This is nothing, why are you beating yourself up about it?

  The problem was that I was beating myself up about this. About everything. Maybe I deserved it because here I was on New Year’s Day, and there were two people who hadn’t come into 2018 with me. Zander and Matt were not the only things I would miss from last year, though; having a job and being happy were ranked quite high on the list.

  So far, this new year didn’t look any more promising than the last. I had missed celebrating the last one since I had been in the hospital because of the Incident. One year down, and so far, no Zander in sight. Not a trace of him. It was, to say the least, very frustrating. He had promised he would come back, and clinging to the idea, to his promise, was probably the last thing keeping me from completely falling overboard.

  I eyed one of the pretty drinks, suddenly very aware of my dry mouth, and shook my head. Snap out of it, Sally Webber. But I wanted it. I needed it. I needed something sweet to fog up my thoughts and push the bad memories under the rug for a little while.

  I forced a smile on my face and looked up again. The sweet drag queen with the confetti watched me sadly, her face growing with recognition as she took me in. I had been getting a lot of looks like that, lately. Perks of having graced the national news after the Incident. She gave me an apologetic smile, probably having to do with how unnerved I looked.

  I turned to find Marcy, the only reason I had come out here tonight. But her face wasn’t her face anymore. No. Instead, latched on to her bright red lips were bright purple lips belonging to the pirate queen herself, Dany. The woman’s many golden earrings caught the light from the club and were blinding. She had lifted my small friend into the air, holding her up in a passionate embrace.

  My face turned hot, burning from the pure awkwardness of it all. My hands were shaking again, though I didn’t know if that came from watching the very PDA make-out session or from forcing back my urge to drink copious amounts of alcohol. I stuffed them into my pockets and tripped as I realized my leggings didn’t have any.

  What the hell was I even doing here? What was I doing with makeup caked on my face, wearing a sequined shirt and shoes so high my knees were going to snap? I felt the unease growing in the pit of my stomach, the signals in my head blaring—I was about to break.

  “Sally?” Marcy’s hand was suddenly on my shoulder, her voice calm and soothing, but her face was a bright red, even in this blue lighting. I turned to face her and noticed her 2018 glasses were slightly askew on her giddy face.

  “You all right?” she asked, a hint of worry sneaking into her voice.

  “I’m fine,” I lied, smiling back in a way I hoped looked convincing as I shoved everything down as deep as I could into my stomach. “Why?”

  “You’re not singing or anything. That’s not like you. Have you had too much? Should I be—”

  “It’s just a bit crowded in here.” I shook her off with a wave of my hand. “I swear I haven’t had anything, Marcy. I’m just going to step outside for a few minutes. Or maybe I’ll go home.”

  “We can come with you if you want,” said Dany, with that stoic voice of hers. It always sounded like she was making decrees when she spoke.

  “Nah, don’t let me bring down your evening.”

  “Promise me you’ll call an Uber?” begged Marcy.

  “I’m fine, Marcy. Really, I am.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” She didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Dany scooped her up, wheeling her off into a dance. She laughed as she flew across the club, people making room for the two of them to waltz past. I watched them go, happy to see her so exuberant, yet my mind flashed back to the months before when I had flown across that very floor, on the arm of Zander, the most incredible dancer I had ever had the chance of knowing. That night, I had literally been swept off my feet.

  I had to get out of here.

  I made a run for it, if you could call what I did in those shoes running. I found the back exit and threw myself out the door, breathing heavily as I leaned against the brick wall. Anxiety attack? Panic attack? One of them was coming for me if I didn’t get myself calm.

  Breathing fast.

  Heart pounding.

  Weight on my chest.

  Here it came.

  I closed my eyes, counted the seconds as I breathed in, held the breath, and let it out again. I lost track of time as I did this, focusing only on the breath, on the calming voice of Dr. Shuman teaching me the technique ages ago.

  In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out.

  When I finally opened my eyes, I realized that I was cold. I had forgotten my coat, and, of course, this door was exit only. White, fluffy snow covered the ground, my shoes crunching as I made my way down the thin strip of an alley. I shivered, watching my breath rise in front of my eyes. The steam rose in the night air, swirling mist in the dark evening. I watched it dance in a daze, my eyes unable to focus.

  Shit. It was freezing out here.

  I glanced up and down the alley, trying to remember my way out. But I was assaulted by yet another memory, this time of Matt taking my face in his hands and kissing me softly. My hands reached up and clutched my head. No, no, no. I did not need a replay.

  That was the night he had told me to stop being friends with Zander. Why? The thought of our conversation made me feel weird. It hadn’t before. But I didn’t want to remember Matt as being possessive; I wanted to remember him as the sweet, gentle guy I knew he was. I shoved those feelings back down where they belonged.

  I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and straightened. A few feet back into the alley, near the dumpster, a crouched form was half concealed by shadow. It sounded like they were retching—another casualty of the party.

  “Have a bit too much to drink?” I called out, stepping in their direction.

  They didn’t answer. Whoever they were, they were dressed better for the weather than I was, with a heavy winter coat obscuring all their features. I couldn’t tell anything about them from this angle.

  “You all right?” I crossed my arms over my chest against the cold. It wasn’t helping much.

  This time, the person heard me. They snapped upright like a jack-in-the-box. Pop goes the weasel. Now that they were upright, they towered over me, a meter taller than anyone I had ever met before. A bundle lay on the ground before him, where I had expected to find barf.

  The realization hit me like a brick in the face, a sharp, sudden thwack that stopped my heart for a beat and forced me back. The form at his feet was oozing, emitting a rotten smell I could not place and didn’t want to.

  Because I knew. Even before the form turned to show me way too many teeth. I knew that the coat wasn’t a winter coat but dirty black rags, the kind the reaper would wear. I knew that the smell wasn’t puke.

  A shudder rippled through me. This had to be some cosmic joke. I had just gotten myself through a panic attack, and now there were actual dementors? Where was chocolate when you needed it?

  Oh, and magic wands. Please, universe, if you’re going to send me dementors, send me a magic wand, too.

  The creature dropped its hood, and the dementor-type creature poofed out of existence. Pale, sickly white skin and a mouth completely round, hundreds upon hundreds of razor-sharp teeth protruding from the orifice.

  Well, that’s not human.

  “What did you do to him?” I asked. Shit, I probably should have said something a little more intimidating. Having met more than one alien before, I knew not to jump to conclusions, but it was a little hard to misread this.

  Could I outrun them? No, not in these shoes; I could barely walk. Could I fight them? What were two fists against a thousand teeth?

&
nbsp; Crap. I was trapped.

  The creature, of course, gave no answer, except for a sound somewhere between a hiss and a snarl. I wondered if my clutch could be a weapon, then frowned at the idea.

  “We’re on Earth. Learn to speak the language,” I snapped. “My translator doesn’t have a setting for ‘asshole.’”

  The creature hissed again as if they had understood the insult. Oops. Or, maybe they were just mad I had interrupted dinner.

  Shit! I was dessert!

  Oh, hell no. I had just survived an exploding power plant, seen a friend die, and lost another one to interstellar travel and the annoying side effect of time dilation. I wasn’t going to get eaten in a dark alley now!

  I gathered my wits, balling my hands into fists, and with a shout, I lashed my foot forward, kicking where I expected to find a groin. No such luck—my foot went straight through, and I toppled forward into the snow, my face smothered in the putrid fabric.

  Okay, so floating alien murder guy. Happy new year, Sally Webber!

  The creature swooped back, pulling the fabric out from under me. The snow was cold through my sequined top, and my fingers were starting to get numb, not to mention soaking wet. I pushed myself up on my feet just in time to dodge the thing as it swooped down low.

  Yank. Even though they had missed me, I was now somehow flying backward in the air. The chain of my clutch had gotten tangled in their arm, and now I was soaring backward while the alien struggled to shake me loose. I dug my feet into the freezing snow and tugged my clutch, but the alien was strong, pulling against me the other way.

  “Let go, dammit!” I screamed. “It doesn’t go with your outfit!”

  They let out a gurgling hiss again, somehow sounding angrier now. They swooped forward, knocking me back on the ground with an oomph. Winded, I tried to push myself up, but they were already on top of me, gliding through the air like it was nothing.

  Sharp, razor-sharp shark’s teeth. With a long tongue, they licked their upper lip, which I guess could be considered their forehead.

  I scrambled back, my hands burning in the fiery cold of the snow, but the creature followed easily, one long, slender hand still wrapped in the chain of my purse. I couldn’t get up; I couldn’t run. All I could smell was the odor of the beast’s putrid breath, a metallic scent coating it all.