Rain on
Neptune
By Lisa Jade
Genre: Sci Fi, Dystopian
In the city of Pyre, only those with excellent
genetics can visit Earth’s colony planets, including the legendary Orithyia.
Those without this advantage live in relative poverty, under the forceful control
of the Council.
Quinn isn’t one of Pyre’s elite, though she’s
desperate to see the stars. After an incident with the Council’s thugs, she
stows away on the latest ship to launch, the Neptune.
But when a series of deadly ‘accidents’ occur on
board, Quinn and her new friends must figure out who’s orchestrating the
attacks – and why.
About the
Author
Lisa Jade is a fiction writer based in the UK. She
lives in Shropshire with her husband and mostly writes Science Fiction,
Dystopian and Post-apocalyptic fiction. With two novels already available, she
is currently working on a number of new projects.
Having joined her local writer’s group, Lisa has
been involved with the creation of annual anthologies, as well as attending and
hosting writing workshops. She also regularly takes part in flash fiction
competitions and has had a number of pieces of short fiction published.
Excerpt
I wait until the early hours before sneaking out.
I creep down the stairs and past Dad’s room, reassured by his squeaky snoring,
and pull my rucksack from the cupboard. I try to be even quieter than normal
tonight – Alice decided to stay over for once, dozing in the box room that sits
upstairs, next to mine. Perhaps she sensed some tension between the two of us
and took it on herself to provide a barrier to keep us from clashing. I’ll
never call her out on it, but secretly I’m immensely grateful.
Even so, I don’t want her to know where I’m going.
If they wake in the night, they’ll know exactly where to find me; but they have
no clue how often I’m out here. How often I slip away.
There’s an absolute silence over Level Four as I
make my way towards the edge. Despite the warm day, the night is bitterly cold.
I tug my jacket a little tighter around myself.
Eventually, I reach a rusted sign. DANGER – KEEP
OUT is scrawled across it in what looks like spray paint. A half-hearted,
last-ditch effort to keep people like me away from the Drop-off.
None of the Levels have external fences. The floor
simply drops away into the darkness, meaning that a drunken stumble or
accidental misstep can spell disaster. It’s not quite so bad on the upper
Levels – they’re smaller, so falling just means you hit the next floor down.
It’s still certain death of course, but here? When there’s nothing but miles of
ocean below and no way of being found?
Only a lunatic would come out here.
I nudge past the sign and keep walking.
The Drop-off.
Here, the lights of Pyre fall away. The cobbles
underfoot sink down into a smooth, white tile. This tile is always underfoot in
Pyre, though it’s usually disguised by concrete or shrubbery. Sometimes, it’s
bizarre to think about it. Pyre is just a massive airship floating over the
Atlantic – and yet, somehow, it’s become a country in its own right.
But I don’t care about that – not right now.
Because as the lights fade, and the chaos of the
day sinks back into the folds of my memory, I’m captivated by the stars.
The sky overhead is inky blackness decorated with
a tapestry of stars. Swathes of deep blue and indigo swirl above me,
highlighted every so often by a splash of pink. The lonely moon resembles a
silver disc that sinks into the glittering canvas. And the stars themselves – a
million tiny, indifferent specks, images created a billion years ago. Many are
already dead, burnt out millions of years ago. In their place are millions of
others, stars I’ll never see, patterns that will cascade through the sky like
brushstrokes on a scorched, blackened wall.
I can’t help it. When I think about the beauty
that must be out there, how long a simple thing might take, how impossible it
all seems – I’m filled with strange emotions.
Excitement. Ambition. Hope. And a wonderful,
indescribable, near-painful sense of joy.
Hi Cindy, thank you for sharing the details for RoN!
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