Goddess in the Machine

Informationen zum Autor Lora Beth Johnson Klappentext A smart, thrilling sci-fi adventure, perfect for fans of Renegades and Aurora Rising. When Andra wakes up, she's drowning. Not only that, but she's in a hot, dirty cave, it's the year 3102, and everyone keeps calling her Goddess. When Andra went into a cryonic sleep for a trip across the galaxy, she expected to wake up in a hundred years, not a thousand. Worst of all, the rest of the colonists-including her family and friends-are dead. They died centuries ago, and for some reason, their descendants think Andra's a deity. She knows she's nothing special, but she'll play along if it means she can figure out why she was left in stasis and how to get back to Earth. Zhade, the exiled bastard prince of Eerensed, has other plans. Four years ago, the sleeping Goddess's glass coffin disappeared from the palace, and Zhade devoted himself to finding it. Now he's hoping the Goddess will be the key to taking his rightful place on the throne-if he can get her to play her part, that is. Because if his people realize she doesn't actually have the power to save their dying planet, they'll kill her. With a vicious monarch on the throne and a city tearing apart at the seams, Zhade and Andra might never be able to unlock the mystery of her fate, let alone find a way to unseat the king, especially since Zhade hasn't exactly been forthcoming with Andra. And a thousand years from home, is there any way of knowing that Earth is better than the planet she's woken to?

Autorentext

Lora Beth Johnson

Klappentext

A smart, thrilling sci-fi adventure, perfect for fans of Renegades and Aurora Rising.

When Andra wakes up, she's drowning.

Not only that, but she's in a hot, dirty cave, it's the year 3102, and everyone keeps calling her Goddess. When Andra went into a cryonic sleep for a trip across the galaxy, she expected to wake up in a hundred years, not a thousand. Worst of all, the rest of the colonists-including her family and friends-are dead. They died centuries ago, and for some reason, their descendants think Andra's a deity. She knows she's nothing special, but she'll play along if it means she can figure out why she was left in stasis and how to get back to Earth.

Zhade, the exiled bastard prince of Eerensed, has other plans. Four years ago, the sleeping Goddess's glass coffin disappeared from the palace, and Zhade devoted himself to finding it. Now he's hoping the Goddess will be the key to taking his rightful place on the throne-if he can get her to play her part, that is. Because if his people realize she doesn't actually have the power to save their dying planet, they'll kill her.

With a vicious monarch on the throne and a city tearing apart at the seams, Zhade and Andra might never be able to unlock the mystery of her fate, let alone find a way to unseat the king, especially since Zhade hasn't exactly been forthcoming with Andra. And a thousand years from home, is there any way of knowing that Earth is better than the planet she's woken to?

Zusammenfassung

• "An intriguing story filled with politics, science fiction, and romance, and which offers twists and turns galore, right up to the last page . . . A must-purchase for all YA science fiction collections." **School Library Journal, starred review

  "This futuristic reimagining of the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale features impressive world-building and provides a promising start to a dystopian series blending sci-fi adventure with palace intrigue." *The New York Times *

  Johnson s rich, intelligent world blends sci-fi elements with palace intrigue and swoon-worthy characters in a way that is wholly unique and utterly brilliant. This book will make you laugh, make you fall in love, and then it'll blow your mind. **Emily Suvada, award-winning author of the Mortal Coil series

  "Utterly inventive and unique, this story has more surprises in store for you than you can imagine." Beth Revis, New York Times bestselling author of Across the Universe and Give the Dark My Love

  **

  Leseprobe

When Andromeda woke, she was drowning.

They d warned her this would happen that her lungs would burn and her eyes would sting and she d have to fight for that first breath. But you must take it, they said. If you don t, your lungs will collapse and we ll have to put you in a coma and just hope for the best.

Okay, maybe those weren t their exact words.

She pulled in a breath, just like they told her. It burned. It stung. She fought. Water flooded her lungs, and the bitter taste of saline filled her mouth. Something was wrong. Something she couldn t quite place.

Her fist shot out, grasping for help, but it slammed into something solid. There it was the wrongness. Ten-inch-thick metallic glass enforced with veins of diamond dust. Latched together with hinges of a tantalum-tungsten alloy. Supposed to be yawning open when she woke. But it wasn t. It was still closed, cocooning her in cold metal and melting cryo protectant.

Calculations fired in her brain, searching for missing information, evaluating variables, solving for X. She d just been put to sleep, and now she was drowning. No. It only felt like she d just been put to sleep. It had actually been a hundred years. And now, she was waking up and (oh god) naked, but her chamber was still closed.

Something was definitely wrong.

They d prepared her for this possibility waking too early or crisis aborts or faulty latches but it was hard to remember emergency plans in the middle of an emergency.

There was a button somewhere . . .

. . . or a switch?

She was too lightheaded. Her hands didn t work. Her brain was shutting down, synapses sparking, sending a single message:

air air air air air

She struck the glass again. It didn t even crack. It was meant to last centuries, meant to withstand zero gravity and a thousand times atmospheric pressure and two thousand degrees kelvin and zero degrees kelvin. But she kept pounding, each hit a bit weaker, a bit quieter.

She hit the glass until her strength gave out. Her arms fell to her sides. Just before her eyes slid shut, she saw a face above her. No one she recognized. There was no bright light. No life flashing before her eyes. No air. Just water and drowning and dying and water.

Then nothing.

When she woke the second time, she was coughing up saline. This was an improvement.

Her throat was sore. It ached down into the recesses of her chest. She didn t want to breathe. It hurt too much. But she had to.

Just as soon as she coughed all the water out of her lungs.

At first, her senses didn t extend past pain. **Then she heard shouts. Murmurs. Whispers. Syllables that weren t words. Words without meaning. Strong arms held her, a rough hand patted her back. Not the cryo tech they weren t allowed to touch. Not her mom either she didn t coddle.

The water was gone now, but the sting remained, the compulsion to cough. She gasped in a breath, and it dragged through her lungs, her throat, catching and tearing as it went. But it kept her alive, so she pulled in another.

And another.

Shivering. Shaking off flecks of ice.

So. Cold.

She thought about opening her eyes, but decided against it. Too much work. So she breathed, and then she slept, and then, for the first time in a hundred years, she dreamed.

Will I dream? she asked.

No, you ll be sleeping too deeply. Like a computer shutting down.

Will I know time is passing?

When they wake you, it ll feel like seconds from now.

When will they wake me?

When you reach the new planet.

So. You re the last person I ll ever speak to on Ea