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    Justice Lost
    Justice Lost
    Justice Lost
    Ebook123 pages1 hour

    Justice Lost

    By Evelyn Weibel

    ()

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    About this ebook

    When Jet emerges on an unfamiliar world, he meets people with powers he's never encountered before--women who have telekinetic abilities and can read minds. Some help him when he's lost and injured. But the powers that be find him and want to use him for their own ends...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEvelyn Weibel
    Release dateDec 24, 2015
    ISBN9781310469046
    Justice Lost
    Author

    Evelyn Weibel

    I love writing science fiction and fantasy! I am working on more. I hope you enjoy my stories!!

    Read more from Evelyn Weibel

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      Book preview

      Justice Lost - Evelyn Weibel

      Justice Lost

      Evelyn Weibel

      Copyright © 2014 Evelyn Weibel at Smashwords

      All rights reserved.

      ISBN-13: 9781310469046

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Contents:

      Chapter 1: Crash

      Chapter 2: Welcome

      Chapter 3: Caught

      Chapter 4: Taken

      Chapter 5: Fortress

      Chapter 6: Trapped

      Chapter 7: Attack

      Chapter 8: Journey

      Chapter 9: Meeting

      Chapter 10: Escape

      Chapter 11: Force

      Chapter 12: Home

      Chapter 13: Battle

      Chapter 14: Parting

      COnnect

      About the Author

      1 Crash

      I fell from the sky, lightning flashing all around me, zapping into me. Bursting into the ridge where my thigh met the metal of my artificial leg, the white-hot agony of it slammed me into blackness.

      I woke up with my cheek lying against damp grass, facing the morning light spread across the eastern sky. As soon as I moved, sparks danced across my skin. I stayed on the ground as still as I could, dreading the moment when I would have to move my leg. In front of me, strapped to my arm, the Channel device snapped with blue fire.

      At least I made it through alive, I thought. And more importantly, I've stolen the Channel back from the Conglomerate. The mission wasn't a total failure. Except that the Channel malfunctioned between our worlds, and I have no idea which world I've landed on. This is definitely not Mag City.

      One thing was for sure, a professional spy wouldn't stay lying here, no matter how much it hurt to get up. Dad would give me an earful if he saw me 'not taking the initiative'.

      I gathered all my strength and pushed myself onto my knees. There. Not so bad. My leg was almost numb. I breathed a sigh of relief, and looked around. Behind me, in the early morning light, stood a grove of trees—no, what was the word? A forest. We didn't even have forests on our world; neither did the Conglomerate—a choking mass of smoke and dark buildings clustered together in the rain, gray streets with soldiers always marching through them—the opposite of my world, City Magnificent. The sheer number of trees here astounded me. And in front of me lay a vast plain, the dark silhouettes of large animals of some sort moving across it near the distant hills. We didn't have many animals on our world, but I felt a twinge of longing for Sabra, my saber-toothed cat. I had been going home to see her, and Dad, and my sisters and brother, and Mom, and now—this detour.

      I spat out a curse in Winged, the ancient language we'd inherited from our forebears. Those words always had more bite than words in any other language. And I climbed to my feet, favoring my left leg. I took one step on it—and my leg betrayed me. I slammed face-first into the dirt. I hated this leg, I hated the fact that the Channel hadn't gotten me home, I hated the fact that Dad was probably even now sitting on his throne, shaking his head and saying, I knew Jet couldn't handle a mission like this. That day when he lost his leg for us was a fluke, after all. A one-time-thing. How could I ever think he'd turn into a hero like his siblings? He's barely a March at all, not worthy of the name.

      Shut up, Dad, I muttered, something that would get me, even though I was a prince, severely punished. Probably more punished than Glory or Fury or Blade would get. Because they always did everything right the first time.

      I took another stab at standing, wishing more than ever I had my wings. They would have been able to carry me wherever I wanted, but if I had started flying on my spy mission, it would have defeated the purpose. This leg better start working, I thought.

      The sun rose over the distant hills, and I tried to get an idea of what to do next. Although I was most comfortable in open spaces, it would probably be safer in the woods. On the plain, any hostile agents could see me coming a mile away. My priority was to get the Channel working again and report to the Spire ASAP.

      So I steeled myself for the pain, and took another step. My leg stabbed me as if shards of bone were breaking off and embedding in my flesh. It was almost as bad as the first day I'd walked on it two months ago. But I gritted my teeth and continued until I made it to the trees. I grasped a tree with smooth white bark, catching my breath, and took a good look at the Channel on my right arm. Nothing seemed wrong with it; it was just a sleek blue sleeve that wrapped around my arm, with one red blinking light that told me it was malfunctioning.

      At least no one had been around when it happened; that could have gotten messy. This world seemed deserted; maybe no humans lived here.

      I tapped the device. Holographs appeared across its skin. I spun through its code, trying to find the source of the problem, clicking through the words and numbers racing through the air.

      Hey, said a voice behind me.

      I jumped, hiding my Channel arm behind me as I turned to face my foe.

      In front of me stood a small girl, only a third my height, with long golden hair and large blue-green eyes. What are you doing? she said.

      Nothing.

      You are too. She was, of course, speaking in her own language; the translator in my brain only let through the smallest hint of an accent. What is that thing?

      I tugged my shirt sleeve down over my arm, obscuring the Channel. It's a game I like to play. Now can I get back to it?

      A game? Let me see! And she dashed toward me. I stepped out of her way; she came to a spinning stop, her face flushed, eyes sparkling. She ran toward me again, grabbing for my arm; I held it easily out of her reach.

      Please, can I play the game? She jumped up, trying to reach it.

      I shook my head. You should probably go home. I don't think your mom would be very happy that you're talking to a strange man.

      The little girl grimaced. "You're no fun. And anyway, I don't have a mom. I only have a dad, and he's out working in the mines all the time. My sister's

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