REFUGE

Book 1 of The Tradepoint Saga

REFUGE

Book 1 of The Tradepoint Saga by J.J. Blacklocke

Visiting Tradepoint is Gredin te Balamont’s long-held ambition. On this, her first off-planet adventure, she attends as one of nine hundred Vennans on a four-day cultural exchange to the space station which hangs in orbit over the homeworld of the inquisitive and science-loving Prett.

Gredin is a gifted Speaker and translator, and the delegation will need her skills to navigate the often inharmonious clash of alien cultures in the galaxy’s bustling center of trade.

But the dream of Tradepoint turns into a nightmare when a horrific vision shatters Gredin’s first night’s sleep. The Power, the wellspring of energy that unites and flows through every Vennan, breaks centuries of silence to warn her that Venna has been destroyed. Her homeworld, her House, her family and her beloved Chosen — indeed, every Vennan outside of Tradepoint — is no more.

And the voice of the Power imparts a second message, nearly as terrifying as the first: that Gredin, the youngest and least experienced of the delegation, is to lead her people.

With only days before their race’s mandatory expulsion from Tradepoint, Gredin must join with unlikely friends—a lonely historian and a savvy Prettian bureaucrat—to fight for the Vennans’ survival against her superiors’ indignant disbelief and the entangling politics of Tradepoint.

Stunned with grief and opposed by her own people, can Gredin barter for her race’s survival before it’s too late?

Buy Now on Amazon.com

Reviews

 

“An enjoyable introduction to a new space-opera mythology. Our verdict: Get it.”  – Kirkus Reviews

 

~  ~  ~

“JJ Blacklocke has created a deeply engaging universe that drew me in from the first page. Gredin is delightfully human, despite her home planet, and the world-building knocked me out. I love this story, this character, this universe, and I am waiting eagerly for the next installment. A stunner of a first book, and the flagship of a series I want to live in for years!”  – Stacey Filak, Author of YA Fantasy THE QUEEN UNDERNEATH.

~  ~  ~

“There’s a confidence in Blacklocke’s writing that makes it easy to read without any nagging worries that Chekhov’s gun might not go off later. Gredin is a great main character with one heck of an arc!” – Brett Hiorns

~  ~  ~

“REFUGE is a wholly original vision. Its heroes are, in some ways, truly alien to us and yet its tale of innocent people unexpectedly becoming refugees is one that will resonate with anyone reading about the world today. I can’t wait to read the next one.” – Matt Bird, author of THE SECRETS OF STORY: Innovative Tips for Perfecting Your Fiction and Captivating Readers.

~  ~  ~

“The world J.J. Blacklocke builds is rich and imaginative beyond what I expected.” – Tory Hunter, Freelance Editor

~  ~  ~

“The variety of alien races in REFUGE is great – and some of them are real rascals!” – Suzanne Nesmith, beta reader

~  ~  ~

“Gredin’s adventures intrigue me. If you think communicating with your own species is difficult, try it with ten others. Then see what you learn about yourself.” – R. Winship, Artist/Illustrator

Excerpt

From REFUGE

As Gredin waited, a piece of fabric that rested on the bottom rung of a ladder near the entrance snagged her attention. The bright lighting seemed to ignite the scarlet material, making the color appear so vibrant that Gredin half expected to feel it give off heat as she knelt to examine it more closely.

The weave was tight and sleek, as smooth as liquid when she stroked it with a single fingertip. Slipping her hand beneath the top layer, she saw the color alter, shading from the lively red of galen berries down to a scarlet so deep-hued that it almost appeared black. The effect was beguiling, and she tilted her hand, watching the play of light.

A shadow fell, dulling the color.

A second shadow followed. Then a third and fourth and fifth, in rapid succession.

“Pretty lady,” a voice whispered in her ear, and the phrase repeated like an echo – pretty lady pretty lady pretty lady pretty lady – as tiny fingers touched her sleeve, her braids, her cheek, her hlao.

Gredin, recoiling violently from their touch, overbalanced and tumbled sideways, knocking one of the cloth-laden ladders over onto herself. It bumped against her head and shoulder, burying her beneath its fragile burden of material, and all the while she felt the little fingers continuing to pluck at her. Deeper in the maartza, she heard the blue-furred creature roar in surprise and anger, then shout in hoarse Tradetalk, “You! Out! Out! You go out!” Keegan was calling her name, his voice sharp with alarm, and she opened her mouth to answer, but then she felt a small finger snag on the cord that secured Dreff’s flamestone pendant around her neck.

“No!” She tried to lunge to her feet, but she was tangled in the ladder and the lengths of fabric, her vision obscured, her body weighed down by grasping hands that pulled her one way while another set of hands tugged the cord in the opposite direction, straining it close to the snapping point.

In panicked desperation, Gredin Sent.

Her destination was the nearest vacant space she could clearly envision: the area just outside the huge doors of the Traders’ Market—

—which, she realized in horror, wasn’t an empty space anymore. Flailing as she fought to get her feet under herself, she collided with someone and stepped down with unintended force onto something so brittle that it made a noise like kindling sticks being broken to length.

A piercing shriek split the air, making her ears ring. Strong claws dug into her arm, piercing her skin through the fabric of her jacket, jerking her sideways as a hot wave of vertigo flashed through her. Knees buckling, she hung in the painful grasp, blinking against a flood of tears. Then she heard the resonant rumble of a Prett voice as it commanded, “You, Hesch. Let go that one.”

“No,” came the thin, nasal reply. “I, Nitikikani, say this one you take. Take and hold. I claim–” And it spoke a further word of Tradetalk that she didn’t recognize.

“What name you?” the Prett demanded.

Claws bit more deeply into Gredin’s arm, and the thin, nasal voice of Nitikikani of the Hesch demanded, “Speak! Tell Prett. What name you?”

She hadn’t realized that the Prett’s question was aimed at her. On a gasp of air, she said, “Gredin. Gredin te Balamont. Vennan. Please, I talk Director, I talk Wyve.”

The Hesch made a cackling sound. “Oh yes, Vennan. I talk Director, also. I claim—” The unfamiliar word slid past again, something guttural that sounded like gegitt or kekitt. “You talk Director? He talk you. He talk you much and much.” Another spasm of pain jolted through her as the Hesch’s claws bit deeper into her flesh. “Prett, you take this Vennan,” the Hesch demanded. “You hold this Vennan good. We go talk Director. Now!”

Get the Free eBook:

VENNA Before the End of the World

Get a prequel to REFUGE from The Tradepoint Saga for free when you sign up to get news and updates about J.J. Blacklocke.