Interstellar slavery almost destroyed the galaxy until Aedre changed her name to Roobish and sacrificed her memory to reset time.
Now a captive in a moon camp, Roobish has forgotten she was a time-traveller on a mission to kill the Godfather. All she knows is she must train her three adopted daughters to pass their concubine exams.
Will her memories return and her body go back a million years to her worst enemy through the lesser portal?
Targeted Age Group:: 18+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
My love for science and magic, mystic experiences, my time living and working in Indonesia and China, and my near-death experience in a motorbike accident all inspired me to write this series.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Aedre and Roobish (Roobish is from an alternate past)–the heroine in my first series and prequel–is based on me when I was about twenty years old (twenty years ago.) She's spiritual and a humanitarian, does yoga, and just wants to be loved. However, luckily for me, my mum never died in a maglev suction tube accident, so the huge difference is that Aedre grieves daily. I had to read many forums about losing a mother. It had me in tears, but I've tried as much as possible to portray her grief throughout the series.
The Godfather is probably based on characters from all of the mafia and thriller movies I've devoured. The owl-human hybrid, Sharr Shuvuu, is based on one of my own animal guardians. Gosh, there are lots of characters in this series. It's the first series I've ever written. YuFu–the man who fishes diamonds from a gas giant–is kind of based a little bit on my Chinese husband. I'm currently writing a space opera technothriller series about him called YuFu's Run.
Roobish cringed when she awoke to screaming babies. Her naked body floated upright within a curved, milky-white container. Human forms moved through its translucent material, and a grazing noise came from above her head. A sawtooth blade cut a hole in her vessel, causing cold air to rush in and prick her skin with goosebumps. The saw retracted, and hands pulled spongey material away.
A woman tore the remaining matter until it lay on the metal-grated floor as a mound of crumbs. As the woman left her, Roobish watched other women attend tiny egg-shaped containers, holding baby girls, who also hung mid-air between metal plates. After breaking away vessels around babies and disconnecting forces suspending them, the women carried the infants through a corridor and out of sight.
The woman who’d removed Roobish’s container returned with a wheelchair and white blanket.
Roobish’s lip trembled. “Where am I?”
“Sorry. I can’t talk to you. Someone will answer all your questions in due course.” She spread a blanket over the wheelchair, then looked over her shoulder. “Sally! Can you help me? Turn off this magnet while I ease her into this chair, will you?”
Roobish’s limbs were so floppy, the woman had to strap her to the chair. She wrapped the blanket around Roobish and buttoned it down her front. “That’s better. You won’t catch a cold now.” She wheeled her away towards a metal chamber. Once inside, she shut its door, released an airlock, and pushed Roobish through a new opening into a stone tunnel.
Unable to have clear thoughts, she swallowed. Where was she? In fact, who was she? Was this her home? Where did she come from before she got here?
The woman rolled her through more passages and into a lift. On another floor, she stopped and touched a glass wall. An arch unfurled, and they entered a small bedroom. More women joined them, and together, they lifted Roobish onto her bed.
They all left except one woman who connected Roobish to a drip.
Desperate for answers, words tumbled out. “The nurse from earlier said someone would tell me everything. I don’t know who I am, where I am, or what I’m doing. I awoke in a metal room with many babies inside milky-white eggs. I’m petrified, and I must know—”
She placed a gentle finger on Roobish’s lips and shook her head. “Now isn’t the time. Rest and regenerate.” She removed her finger and tucked Roobish’s blanket around her feet. “To be frank, I’m surprised you can even talk after being in cryosponge for so many years.
“Cryosponge? What’s that? I don’t know what I’m—”
She pinched Roobish’s lips together. “No more talking.”
Two days later, Roobish could eat puréed food, move her limbs, and take showers on her own. As she dried off in her room, two nurses entered. A purple nurse with black hair carried a sizeable metallic disc, which looked flexible and light. A glittering-yellow nurse with acid-yellow hair brought goggles and a remote.
Frowning, Roobish slipped on her powder-blue bodysuit and zipped it up the front. “What’ve you got there?”
“VR with a hoverpad. It’s for exercise.” The yellow said..
The purple woman nodded and eyed the disc. “Build your strength.”
Roobish raised her palms. “How?”
“Simple.” The purple nurse placed her disc on the floor. “This is a hoverpad.” She stood on it, nodded, and levitated. “You can rock climb.” She trod air on one spot. “With the VR and hoverpad, you’ll physically remain stationary, but mentally, you can climb high as you like.”
The yellow nurse sat on Roobish’s bed. “Show her swimming.”
The nurse lay on her belly in the air and swam in place.
Her colleague’s yellow cheeks twinkled like stars when she laughed. “Staff can use VR hoverpads, as well as noomies and girls.”
Roobish’s breath hitched. She tilted her head. “Noomies?”
The purple nurse glared at her colleague. She landed softly on the hoverpad.
The yellow nurse flushed orange and bit her lip. “Sorry.”
“Why won’t anyone tell me anything?”
“It’s not our job.” The purple nurse took two steps forward and tucked Roobish’s curls behind her ear. “You’ll meet Glass City’s manager at some point, and she’ll tell you everything.”
For the next months, Roobish practiced on the hoverpad, followed a strict diet, and exercised. Her strength slowly returned until she was strong enough to run, climb, and swim.
A guard n a black bodysuit, with a gun dangling from his belt, led her toward a lift. Once underground, she followed him through stone tunnels. “Where are we going?”
“Not for me to say.”
“Won’t I ever remember who I am?”
He laughed. “No way. Most noomies live here from infants. You’re a special case.”
Her stomach clenched. She stopped walking and stared at his hard blue eyes. “You’re fucking joking.”
He jabbed a finger at her. “You can’t swear here. Traffickers should’ve wiped your filthy vocabulary along with your useless past.”
She flinched. “How could you say such a thing?”
“Because you’ve got a foul mouth. Women shouldn’t swear.”
He pivoted, then raised a hand. “I’d watch it if I were you.”
“Go on! Hit me!”
He hesitated and lowered his hand. “Come on. I’ve got a job to do.”
She trailed behind as he led her along several tunnels and taverns until they reached a spacious underpass with a rail. Inside a horizontal glass tube, a glass train waited. Both tube and train had lined-up holes at one side—doorways, gaping into carriages with beds.
“Get yer ass in there and lie down.” He pointed to a carriage.
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