Professor Ginger lived a simple, quiet life…
… Until a mysterious book ruined it all.
Questioned by the Central Committee, her freedom hung in the balance.
The city was no longer safe. The DOA watched her every move.
Enter Captain Hack, an alien of questionable morals and hygiene—A smuggler of contraband or worse.
This human and his floundering riverboat offered her only ticket to safety.
Dare she take it? Left without options, she had no choice.
All she needed to do was travel up the river, deep into the interior with a crew of questionable character and honesty, find her sister, and discover why Amber sent the stupid book.
What could go wrong?
Follow Ginger’s journey of discovery as she learns what is happening to her home, Planet Scrits. Danger and treasure lurk under the emerald green river. The jungle is a hazardous place for a city dweller. Can Captain Hack, the Troubadour, guide her in this quest, or will he prove her undoing?
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Genre: FICTION / Science Fiction / Alien ContactI have over 40 books published in several SF/F sub-genres; I would like to increase my international readership.
An unseen threat stalked her every move.
The spreading foliage of the yorba trees cast deep shadows, providing unlimited places to lie in ambush.
In places, a splash of sunlight seeped through the foliage, presenting a tempting place to nap. That was not an option.
Ginger never considered sleeping in her current state. Her tail swished in a side-to-side motion. She was ready to launch herself to safety at the slightest provocation. Her emerald green eyes peered into the shadows, searching for any movement. Any sign of the attackers she knew hunted her.
Somewhere out in this jungle, a horde of miscreants waited for their chance to pounce. The only thing that stopped them was Ginger’s abilities.
She needed to be smarter than them, or she would fail in her mission. For Ginger, the mission was everything. Instinctively, her right ear twitched when an insect approached. The movement chased the pest away but could have revealed her location.
Pausing, she checked to make sure the skintight camouflage chameleon-suit continued to shift colors. She was blessed to have one. The material also regulated her internal temperature. This close to the equator, the temperature rose to blistering levels over the long Scritian days. The suit covered her body save tail, paws, and head—small targets for anyone to see at a distance.
Moments like these, she was happy to be a short hair, and not one of the cursed genera, the long hairs from the far north. Flowing fur might look luxurious, but she imagined the pelt was murder to keep clean. A quick lick to her yellow forepaw settled some unruly fur back where it belonged.
A bath and nap were called for, but first, she needed to finish the task set before her.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Matteo Serrago
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Author review: Thank you. |
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Gleni Mendoza
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Author review: Thank you. |
