by
- Triple Strike: Threads of Fate
- Triple Strike: Pasts Revisited
- Triple Strike: A Gathering Storm
Pages: 207
Size: 5.50 x 8.50 in
Pages: 206
Alan Beringer’s day takes an unexpected turn when he’s kidnapped by alien space pirates. In all fairness, pyrean space pirates claiming they're "privateers” has become the norm since humans became an interstellar species.
Pirates aren’t the problem. The problem is Alan's job is to curtail space piracy. The problem is Alan may be more pyrean than he lets on. The problem is the alien space pirate captain, Sven Jiordson, has a growing infatuation with Alan. The problem is Alan kind of enjoys being kidnapped.
But who has time for romance when there's a new, unknown threat to interstellar space travel? Kidnapping aside, Alan needs to do what he does best: use his brilliant detective skills to notice everything…except Sven flirting with him.
As the pyreans say — romance is more fun when somebody’s alive to enjoy it!
Threads of Fate is the first book in the Triple Strike series, and it includes seven illustrations plus additional bonus content and comics.
Publisher: Akula Games
Illustrators:
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Tropes: Aliens Among Us, Benevolent Aliens, Cross-Species Friendships, Fellowship, Found Family, FTL, Galactic Civilization, Interspecies Romance, Interstellar Travel, Space Detectives, Space Pirates
Word Count: 54000
Setting: Interstellar
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Continuous / Same Characters
Tropes: Aliens Among Us, Benevolent Aliens, Cross-Species Friendships, Fellowship, Found Family, FTL, Galactic Civilization, Interspecies Romance, Interstellar Travel, Space Detectives, Space Pirates
Word Count: 54000
Setting: Interstellar
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Continuous / Same Characters
Cold. He was cold. An iron band tightened around his chest, making each successive breath harder than the last. The pressure in his ears had built until he could barely hear the sirens through the pounding pain. He realized his vision was beginning to tunnel, but he forced his eyes to fix on the bulkhead before him as it started to close.
Dying. He was dying. This part of the ship was dying too, and in moments it would seal off, cauterizing the wound so that the rest of the ship could survive. Not even pyreans had the technology to nullify the effects of pure space.
READ MOREAlan needed to move. He stumbled forward despite his fading strength. The gravity stabilizers were beginning to give out, which worked to his advantage as he launched himself at the bulkhead door with speeds he could never have mustered in higher grav, yet they worked against him when he smashed into the door. It had already closed too much for him to squeeze through, but without leverage from his lower body, he could only cling to the door like a shipwreck survivor clinging to a piece of driftwood. Alan was helpless, but he clawed at the door anyway.
The stars have always called to us. Sven’s words echoed through his throbbing headache. Poetic and sentimental. Exactly what he’d expect from a pyrean pirate with their romanticized notion of freedom and space. But Alan didn’t want to die amid Sven’s pretty stars. He would not be called home by them, nor would he accept such a romantic, tragic end. He’d fight against the Fates till the bitter end.
The door had closed enough that, any further, his hands would be crushed. Instincts forced him to jerk back, but before he could force himself to put his fingers back in to keep trying, a familiar gloved hand shot through.
Between the whooshing air and the painful throbbing in Alan’s ears, he couldn’t hear anything, but from the way Sven’s hand twisted, he could imagine the nauseating sound of bone crunching and tendons snapping.
“Sven!” he screamed, but there was hardly enough air in his lungs to make the sound.
Yet somehow Sven’s fingers, broken as they were, continued to move. Sven turned his wrist, leaning his full body weight against the side of the corridor.
A moment passed and the gap grew just a little. Little by little, Sven forced it open. He was straining too hard to say anything, but Alan didn’t need an invitation. He scrambled under Sven’s arm — a forearm’s width of space to squeeze through and nothing more — before collapsing to the ground on the other side, the door resealing behind them with an audible clang.
COLLAPSE
