About Off World
Written by Stephanie Vaughan
152 pages / 61000 words
ISBN: 978-1-934166-31-4, 1-934166-31-6
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, paperback
Sarhaan and his band of elite soldiers don't know what to make of Caleb when his little spaceship turns up on their viewscreen. Believing that he might be a spy, they bring the junior diplomat onto their stolen spaceship and question him.
Caleb is no spy. He's come looking for Sarhaan's soldiers to help them clear their names of a crime they didn't commit. What he hadn't counted on was falling for the genetically enhanced Sarhaan, who seems to think Caleb is just a good time.
Set against the backdrop of space and Doradus Station, a place where anything goes, Off-World is part mystery, part romance, and all heat!
Review
Cat Zheng, author of Hide in Shifting Again, writes: If you've been wishing for a little futuristic action in your sci-fi thriller, Off-World will satisfy all your cravings at once. With a story chock full of smoking hot soldiers in skintight body armor and fast-paced intrigue, Stephanie Vaughn hasn't skimped on any element that might make your heart race.
Right from the outset we are presented with an intriguing future vision, shown to us through the eyes of the determined yet naive Caleb as he is seized by a couple of rogue Republican soldiers. The soldiers' unofficial leader -- the powerful, darkly sexy Sarhaan -- suspects he has captured a Republican spy. But the tough career soldier finds himself conflicted, torn between a powerful physical interest in his captive and his natural suspicion of the young elite that happened to wander into his lap.
The conflict and attraction are mutual, however. Cal struggles with his own unexpected attraction towards Sarhaan. Despite powerful reasons to resist these urges -- not the least of which is Cal's suspicions towards Sarhaan's squad as related to his best friend's murder -- Caleb and Sarhaan find themselves quickly and intensely giving into their attraction to each other.
The two men must struggle with the overwhelming power of their desire, which quickly grows beyond simple lust, while they learn the exact truth of whom they have fallen into bed with.
Elements of science fiction, murder mystery and a touch of political intrigue frame an intensely erotic yet difficult relationship that is the core of this story. Both Sarhaan and Caleb are complex and intriguing, and the tastes of the future worlds and languages that Ms. Vaughn gives the reader leave one craving even more. The encounters between Sarhaan and Cal won't leave you wanting in any regard -- they are hot and frequent and powerful. The author expertly plays the classic tension and chemistry between gruff, macho soldier-from-birth and refined, elegant son of the elite.
All in all, a definite must-have for the reader who wants outlaw future worlds and studly super-soldiers along with their uberhot two man action!
Sample
Sarhaan stepped out of his uniform pants, tossed them in the direction of his bunk and headed for the shower. Always his favorite moment of the day, he savored the feeling of being out of the restrictive clothing and being able -- finally -- to move around his suite unencumbered. No restriction chafed more than the inability to strip down to nothing and move freely. Back on Earth, it had been a highly sought-after reward, jealously guarded by the higher-ups and doled out as the most rare of inducements. Once, as an acknowledgement of placing first in the sergeants’ exam, Sarhaan had secured an entire week at an elite spa.
Elaborate false ceilings in the artificial dome -- standard since the complete breakdown of the ozone layer -- gave the illusion of open sky. Filtered air and the continent’s largest indoor pool created a resort area available only to the very rich and political or military elites. A full week there had been an undreamed-of treat. Problem was, once tasted, it became a memory Sarhaan was unable to purge from his mind. And they’d known it, of course. Just like the first hit from the drug dealer was always free, the time spent at the artificial Eden was used as a tantalizing taste, one that Sarhaan would relive over and over in his head and do almost anything to earn a trip back to.
Given a weekend there twice after exceptional performances in the field -- once after the New Brunswick campaign and again after six hellish months cleansing Alaska -- his unit had soaked up everything the exclusive resort had had to offer.
Sarhaan prepared to shower by scouring himself with bluesoap and tried not to think of the past. The last tour in Alaska still bothered him. He’d listened to his CO’s description of the native peoples living there and accepted the order that they needed to be removed. Not only did he have no right to disobey a lawful order, back then he’d still nursed dreams of advancement.
Still, he and his men hadn’t found any evidence whatsoever that Inuits possessed either weapons or plans to secede from the Republic. Sarhaan didn’t need anyone to spell out for him what an Inuit secession would have meant to the government, and the pacification campaign had been both swift and relentlessly brutal.
He hadn’t lost track of the body count so much as he’d never tried to keep one in the first place. Sometimes they came to him in his dreams, though. The headless torsos and bits of individuals he’d helped leave this life. Without eyes or mouths, they still somehow managed to convey their sadness. Some had no heads left to shake at him, but he felt the weight of their disapproval just the same. And just like in the morning after one of his dreams, Sarhaan pushed the memories away. Stepping into the shower, he turned his face up to the water.
Water.
What an unimaginable luxury. Sarhaan had fought savagely for the right to occupy a suite. The competition had been fierce and he’d shown no mercy, given no quarter, when it came to establishing his dominance. A working class grunt, he’d won the right to an officer’s quarters by leading the op to get off-world. Unlike the unfortunate Inuits, the slimebag administrators of the transport terminal and their underlings hadn’t bothered his conscience a bit. They’d been obstacles between him and survival, and Sarhaan hadn’t hesitated a millisecond before sweeping them aside.
...
Cal sat on the bottom bunk of the room he’d been given and worked on fleshing out the details of his back-up plan.
Plan A hadn’t played out quite the way he’d envisioned, and it was obviously time to move on to Plan B. Trouble was, at this point, his alternate plan didn’t consist of much more than ‘try something else.’ So he wasn’t much of a military strategist. That was hardly news to anyone who knew him even slightly. Cal’s talents were what were usually categorized as soft skills, meaning he could stand around making small talk and look good in a suit, but no one had better put him in charge of planning anything they hoped to succeed at.
The ache in his arms and shoulders was finally fading. He’d stood, hands on top of head, for a good two hours while the pair of storm troopers had taken his shuttle apart, piece by piece. Cal still wasn’t sure what they’d been looking for. The one called Dave had wanted to take him somewhere and question him about whatever it was they thought he had brought with him. Thankfully, the other one – Sarhaan – hadn’t agreed. Cal was still trying to work out the details of the command structure, but for now Sarhaan was calling the shots, and he’d insisted on searching Cal’s shuttle himself.
So Cal had stood, fingers laced together atop his head while the blood drained from his hands and arms, as they’d searched. By the time they’d completed their investigation of the cockpit Cal couldn’t feel his shoulders any more and he’d needed to pee so bad he’d nearly embarrassed himself. The one time he’d worked up the courage to ask to use the facilities, Sarhaan only shot him a dark look and told him to hold it.
Cal rubbed his sore shoulder and thought about that look.
The men had struck him as being not quite what he’d expected. Somehow they appeared both larger than life and, simultaneously, surprisingly normal. Yet Cal knew from the documents he’d reviewed that they were both far from normal. It must be the eyes: cold, dispassionate gazes worlds different than the polite looks he was used to at the consulate.
Sighing, Cal looked around the room they’d brought him to. Small by Earth standards, it contained not only the bunk he sat on, but three others as well, a small sink and toilet opposite the door, and that was about it. Obviously intended as crew quarters, it worked just fine for its current purpose -- impromptu brig. Still, the walk from the breeching tunnel the mercs had used to board his shuttle to his current location had been welcome. After being cooped up in the barely super-orbital Falcon-class vehicle he’d borrowed for nearly two weeks, the cruiser the soldiers piloted was positively roomy. He hadn’t wanted to be obvious about looking around -- too easy for curiosity to be mistaken for intel-gathering. Still, stretching his legs for the time it had taken to get here had been most welcome.
The heavy clunk of boots on metal decking preceded the double-click of a force field powering down, and Sarhaan stepped into the room. God, how tall was he? Cal had to crane his neck to meet the big merc’s gaze when he’d been standing. Sitting, he was forced to lean back and tilt his head to an uncomfortable degree, but oh, what a sight it was.
Body armor gone, snug black pants made from what could only be leather, and a loose, lightweight sweater did nothing to hide a soldier’s powerful build. Helmet likewise banished, Cal tried not to gape at what its absence revealed: long black hair twisted into dozens – maybe a hundred – thin braids that hung well past his broad shoulders.