Contents

Ylva Publishing

Projection

Projection: the short story

Letter from Fletcher DeLancey

About the author

Chronicles of Alsea

The Caphenon

Without A Front: The Producer's Challenge

Without A Front: The Warrior's Challenge

Copyright

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www.ylva-publishing.com

PROJECTION

Fletcher DeLancey

Lieutenant Telorana Candini settled the bottle more comfortably in the crook of her arm and pressed the call button. Before she had even released it, the door unlocked with a snick and Guard Soral Dewar spoke through the com.

“Enter, Telorana. I’m in the kitchen.”

She pushed the door open and found Soral standing in the archway across the room, a small towel in her hands. “How did you know it was me?”

“I felt you coming into the building.”

“Right. I’ll never get used to being around an empathic species.”

“If it helps, we still haven’t gotten used to the fact that there are other species.”

“Good point.” Telorana stopped in front of Soral and took a moment to admire her features.

When they had first met, at the base of an escape ladder on her crashed ship, she had been startled by how alien the Alseans appeared. Though Gaian races the galaxy over were varied in their builds, skin tones, and other phenotypical measures, they were still recognizably Gaian. But the Alseans’ facial ridges marked them as something distinctly other.

Six weeks later, she viewed those ridges as exotic and beautiful—especially Soral’s. The ones along her cheekbones cast enticing shadows, and she longed to trace the fan-shaped design on her forehead.

There were other, unseen ridges, she knew. The thought of them had intrigued her ever since she learned about the unique Alsean reproductive system. Today’s news had given her just enough courage to do something about it.

“Captain Serrado pulled us into a meeting today,” she said. “The Protectorate finally found a shuttle to come get us. We’re leaving in twelve days.”

Soral’s gaze softened, then dropped to the bottle in Telorana’s arm. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about losing a friend?”

“You won’t lose me. We can still talk on the quantum com.”

“Not quite the same thing, is it?” She turned and tossed her towel back into the kitchen, then pointed toward one of the comfortable chairs by the window. “Sit.”

Telorana sat and watched her fetch a pair of glasses from the sideboard. “It’s not the same thing, but I’ll be back. We have a treaty. That means a rotation of ships being sent out here, and I’m sure I’ll be on one of them.”

“For a while.” Soral brought the glasses back, expertly pulled the tab on the bottle, and poured the smoking blue spirits. Taking the other chair, she lifted her glass and said, “To unexpected friendships with smooth-faced aliens.”

Telorana laughed. “To unexpected friendships. And courage.”

Soral raised her eyebrows as she drank, then set her glass on the small side table and waited.

That was the thing about Alseans, Telorana thought. They knew what you were feeling, so they didn’t ask questions. They just waited until you spoke.

She cleared her throat. “So, um…this is the part where I usually talk about short lives and war and how we don’t know what will happen, so we should live while we can.”

Soral nodded.

“Right. And, well, I think that speech would be lost on you because you’ve probably known since the day we met that I’m attracted to you.”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to say something. Quite a long time, it turns out. I thought you had a reputation as a wild one?”

“I do, but…you’re different.”

“Because I’m empathic?”

“Because you’re you.” She didn’t know how else to explain it. She had been fascinated by Soral Dewar since the moment they had met. An hour before, Soral hadn’t known of the existence of her species. A minute before, she and twenty other Alseans had been training weapons on Telorana, her captain, and her commander. But as soon as Soral understood that there were hurt people still inside that ship, she had unhesitatingly followed Telorana into the wreck.

For half the night they had worked together, and Soral amply demonstrated both her skills as a medic and her gentle, caring nature. How someone like that could also be a fierce warrior, one of the elite Lancer’s Guards, was something Telorana still couldn’t understand. In the Protectorate Fleet, there were doctors and there were soldiers. The two jobs required different training and different personalities. But Soral was an intoxicating blend of both.

Soral tilted her head. “I’m attracted to you as well. But I’m also very aware of our different physiologies.”

“That’s part of the attraction for me.” Telorana grinned, feeling more confident now that she was past the issue of rejection. “That and the empathic part.”

“You want a Shared joining?”

“Is that possible?” Because if it was, fuck yes, she wanted it. To join both bodies and minds? Where else in the galaxy would she get the chance?

“I’m sorry,” Soral said. “Overcoming your lack of empathy would take too much focus. I can join with you, or I can Share with you, but not both at once.”

Telorana sipped her spirits to cover her disappointment. A moment later she realized how ridiculous that was with an empath sitting across from her, but it was hard to break the habits of a lifetime.

She set the glass down and reached out to run her fingertips along the back of Soral’s hand. “But maybe you could do one after the other?”

Soral’s smile was beautiful, white teeth flashing against dark skin as her eyes crinkled nearly shut. “That I could do.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Which would you like to start with?”

Telorana closed her fingers on Soral’s wrist, pulling her up with her as she stood. “This,” she said, and leaned in to kiss her.

They might have physiological differences, but kissing was exactly the same. She sank into it, molding their bodies together as she buried her fingers in thick curls. Her desire surfaced abruptly when Soral pulled her closer, caging her with strong arms. Alseans had very dense musculature, and Telorana found that strength to be one Hades of a turn-on.

Their kisses grew more intense, hands rubbing curves and planes, and Telorana gasped when Soral cupped one of her breasts, unerringly capturing a nipple through the fabric of her shirt.

She nipped the side of Soral’s throat and whispered, “When do I get to see these neck ridges come out?”

Soral chuckled. “You’ll have to work a little harder. They won’t surface until I’m much more aroused.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that. I’m very goal-oriented.”

She pursued that goal with single-minded determination. Soon she had Soral stripped to the waist, exposing several delicious ridges and lovingly exploring each one with tongue and teeth. Her favorites so far were the pelvic ridges, which vanished beneath Soral’s waistband and hinted at delights yet unseen.

But despite Soral’s obvious and vocal appreciation of her efforts, the neck ridges remained submerged. Telorana was beginning to feel inadequate. She pulled away from a perfect nipple, sucked the chest ridge just above it, and then tugged at an earlobe.

“If you can’t Share with me,” she murmured, “what about projection?”

Soral went stiff, then pushed her away. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I think I do,” Telorana began, but then noticed the distress in Soral’s eyes. “Er, maybe not? What’s so awful about it? Can’t you just—”

“It’s a crime,” Soral snapped. “Especially with someone like you. You have no protections. It would be like empathically forcing a child.”

Well, that was a bit offensive. “I’m not a child. And I’m not asking you to force me, just to project your own feelings on me. I want to feel them, too. Besides, it’s not a crime if I consent, isn’t that right?”

Soral stared at her. “You would consent to me controlling your mind.”

“I trust you.”

“You’ve known me for less than two moons!”

“I know you risked your life to save my crewmates. I would trust you with my life, so why not my mind?”

“Great Mother,” Soral whispered. “You do trust me that much. That is…”

When she didn’t seem capable of finishing, Telorana reached out for her hand and intertwined their fingers. Looking into her nearly black eyes, she said deliberately, “I consent.”

Soral sucked in a breath, her eyes wide. Then a slow, dark smile edged onto her face.

A surge of heat went through Telorana’s body. Startled, she released their hands and stepped back.

Her mind was bombarded with thoughts of what she wanted to do to Soral, and none of them were gentle. She saw herself taking Soral in every way imaginable, a nonstop stream of erotic images that made her face hot and her hands tremble. This wasn’t desire. It was unadulterated lust, and she was shaking with the effort of controlling it. Never in her life had she felt so animalistic, not even when she took that illegal aphrodisiac on Erebderis Station. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything that might break the tenuous hold she had on herself.

In the tiny part of her mind that was still rational, she appreciated the irony that she could trust Soral but not herself.

Soral took a step closer, and Telorana closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at her right now, with her naked torso and perfect breasts and oh, those ridges—

“Telorana.”

“I can’t.” She almost whimpered from the effort.

“Don’t be afraid of what you’re thinking.” Soral’s voice was right next to her ear. “It’s coming from me. Telorana—I consent.”

Her eyes snapped open. With a growl, she slammed into Soral, knocking her back against the wall. Seizing her head, she kissed her possessively, then ripped her trouser fastenings apart.

Soral grabbed her, whirled them around, and shoved her against the wall so hard that it knocked most of the air out of her lungs. Before she could recover, Soral’s hand was in her pants, sliding through a veritable ocean of wetness.

Neither woman would give up her dominance, and they battled from one end of the room to the other. The first round went to Soral, who bent Telorana over the back of a chair and held her there with that damnable Alsean strength while she took her from behind. “Fahla, you’re so smooth,” she gasped as her fingers plunged.

As soon as Telorana recovered, she took Soral up against the wall. She thought the top of her head might blow off when she discovered that Soral had ridges inside as well.

Three orgasms later, she had burned off enough of that raging need to revert to less aggressive lovemaking. They spent the rest of the day exploring each other’s bodies, learning their differences and similarities, careening from clinical observations to mind-blowing sensations and often laughing in between. It was the most incredible, intimate, glorious sex she’d ever had.

When they finally flopped onto their backs, panting from their latest efforts, she let out an exhausted groan. “No more, please. You Alseans are made differently, but my body can’t take any more. I need food and sleep.”

Soral laughed. “No one is forcing you. You could have stopped any time if your poor little Gaian body was so taxed.”

“How could I stop when you were projecting?”

Soral looked at her with a furrowed brow. “You thought I was projecting?”

“Well…yes. Weren’t you? You said those thoughts were coming from you.”

“When we started. Projection takes an immense amount of concentration. I let go right after you threw me against the wall.”

Telorana propped herself up on her elbows. “That was me?” she squeaked.

“That was all you. I just released it.”

“Holy Seeders. I didn’t know I had that in me.”

Soral brushed a hand along her cheek. “You Gaians are an odd race. So out of touch with your own wants.”

“I can’t argue that.” Telorana caught her hand and pressed a kiss against it. “I wonder what other wants I have that I don’t know about?”

Soral’s slow smile lit up her face. “We have twelve days to find out.”

Letter from Fletcher DeLancey

“Projection” is an unseen interlude near the end of The Caphenon, a novel that begins with the crash of a giant spaceship on a planet whose inhabitants had no idea there was other intelligent life in the universe. The crew of that ship had saved the planet from invasion, but it was only a temporary reprieve.

The Caphenon is about what happens when good people face hard choices, friends find themselves on opposite sides of conflict, and politics interferes with everything. At its heart, it is the journey of three powerful women who are swept up in events that put an entire civilization at risk.

The Caphenon is the first book in the Chronicles of Alsea, an ongoing saga based around the planet Alsea and its unique inhabitants. It was released by Ylva Publishing in March, reached #1 in LGBT Science Fiction, and remained in the top ten for two months. The first sequel, Without a Front: The Producer’s Challenge, will be available at Ylva Publishing on 9 October and everywhere else on 23 October (the paperback edition will be available at Amazon on 9 October as well). The third book in the series, Without a Front: The Warrior’s Challenge, will be released in November.

To learn more about the Chronicles of Alsea, the universe it’s placed in, and the upcoming books, check out www.chroniclesofalsea.com.

About the Author

Fletcher DeLancey spent her early career as a science educator, which was the perfect combination of her two great loves: language and science. These days she combines them while writing science fiction.

She is an Oregon expatriate who left her beloved state when she met a Portuguese woman and had to choose between home and heart. She chose heart. Now she lives with her wife and son in the beautiful sunny Algarve, where she writes full-time, teaches Pilates, tries to learn the local birds and plants, and samples every regional Portuguese dish she can get her hands on. (There are many. It’s going to take a while.)

Fletcher is best known for the Chronicles of Alsea, a science fiction series with rich world-building and strong female characters, as well as the geeky romance Mac vs. PC. Currently, she is working on the next books in the Alsea series and as an editor for Ylva Publishing.

You can find Fletcher on Facebook or Twitter (@AlseaAuthor), or e-mail her at fletcher@mailhaven.com.

other books in the series

CHRONICLES OF ALSEA

by Fletcher DeLancey

THE CAPHENON

Length: 165,000 words (398 pages)

On a summer night like any other, an emergency call sounds in the quarters of Andira Tal, Lancer of Alsea. The news is shocking: not only is there other intelligent life in the universe, but it’s landing on the planet right now.

Tal leads the first responding team and ends up rescuing aliens who have a frightening story to tell. They protected Alsea from a terrible fate—but the reprieve is only temporary.

Captain Ekatya Serrado of the Fleet ship Caphenon serves the Protectorate, a confederation of worlds with a common political philosophy. She has just sacrificed her ship to save Alsea, yet political maneuvering may mean she did it all for nothing.

Alsea is now a prize to be bought and sold by galactic forces far more powerful than a tiny backwater planet. But Lancer Tal is not one to accept a fate imposed by aliens, and she’ll do whatever it takes to save her world.

ISBN: 978-3-95533-253-2 (paperback)

978-3-95533-254-9 (mobi)

978-3-95533-255-6 (epub)

WITHOUT A FRONT: THE PRODUCER’S CHALLENGE

Length: 140,000 words (370 pages)

Available in digital format at Ylva Publishing on 9 October 2015

Paperback form available at Amazon on 9 October 2015

Available in digital format at all major online retailers on 23 October 2015

When the Voloth invaded Alsea, Lancer Andira Tal thought the hard part would be fighting off a technologically advanced army.

It wasn’t. In the aftermath of war, Alsean society is deeply divided and Tal is facing issues no Lancer has ever dealt with before. How to rebuild, what to do with the Voloth prisoners, when and how to release the new technologies—the pressure is building and Tal is showing cracks, which her enemies are glad to exploit.

The most divisive of the new technologies are the matter printers, desired by some castes and feared by others, especially the producers. When a challenge gives Tal the opportunity to bring the producers to her side, she leaves the capital to work in the fields of Hol-Opah. There she finds an unexpected sanctuary—and the promise of something she has wished for all her life.

But sanctuary and dreams are distractions, and Tal’s inattention may cost her everything.

ISBN: 978-3-95533-436-9 (paperback)

978-3-95533-437-6 (mobi)

978-3-95533-438-3 (epub)

WITHOUT A FRONT: THE WARRIOR’S CHALLENGE

Coming in November 2015

Lancer Andira Tal made Alsean history when she accepted the producer’s challenge to work a holding as a field laborer. She should have known that the peace of Hol-Opah couldn’t last. Now her hosts are cleaning up blast debris and she’s searching for both a traitor and a missing member of her family.

Just as she thinks she’s solved one of her problems, Tal falls into a meticulously planned trap that threatens her title, her new family, and her freedom. To top it all, she loses her greatest support right when she needs it most. There’s no possible way out, so she’ll have to do the impossible—and the clock is ticking.

Projection

© by Fletcher DeLancey

ISBN (epub): 978-3-95533-497-0

ISBN (pdf): 978-3-95533-498-7

Published by Ylva Publishing, legal entity of Ylva Verlag, e.Kfr.

Ylva Verlag, e.Kfr.

Owner: Astrid Ohletz

Am Kirschgarten 2

65830 Kriftel

Germany

www.ylva-publishing.com

First edition: October 2015

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

Credits

Edited by Sandra Gerth

Cover Design by Maria João Valente