In the penultimate book of the Exile of the Mind series, young nurse and soldier Jack Thomson is made to swap bodies with the sensual, older General Carver so that she can escape from a surprise rebel attack. But when her escape pod crashes, Jack is forced to venture out into the chaos of the colony to try to find her before the rebels do in Exile of the Mind: Ghosts of Triton 1, available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords or Amazon.
Darren Vaughn has suffered a humiliating betrayal by Henry Withers, the spy who’d swapped bodies with Vaughn’s lover to infiltrate the rebel colony. Now Vaughn takes his revenge by sending his forces to strike at the heart of the UN’s flagship high above the planet. In a desperate attempt to save the leaders, a young male nurse named Jack Thomson is forced to swap bodies with UN General Carver, only to watch her escape pod crash somewhere on Triton.
Now in the General’s sensual older body, Jack has to find her before the rebels do and put an end to mind isolation technology once and for all. Jack is curious about his new form, and the remnants of General Carver’s mind are making him ache for his new bodyguard and fellow solider, Henry Withers. But the price of ending mind isolation for good may be more than Jack is willing to pay.
The penultimate book in the erotic sci-fi thriller series Exile of the Mind!
Prologue
Simon and the woman formerly known as Elliot sat beside one another on the couch as the interviewer leaned in.
“Now, you go by Ella now, is that right?” The interviewer asked.
The camera moved in to a close up on Ella, her sharp angular features nearly filling the screen and highlighted the glistening start of tears in her heterochromatic eyes.
“Yes,” Ella nodded. “As far as I’m concerned Elliot Marsh is dead. Murdered by Prime Minister Vaughn. But this body—” Ella gestured to her thirty-nine-year-old body, the voluptuous build with the heavy breasts and child-bearing hips. “—is also not Isobel Clarke. I can never forget that these hands were the hands of serial killer, a mad woman who took the lives of many people, but now they’re mine.”
Simon took one of Ella’s hands and brought it briefly to his lips. They shared a look. A smile flashed across Simon’s face, crinkling his kind eyes. They’d been bonded by trauma. Thrown together by circumstance but now clinging tightly to each other for support.
“But that’s not what we’ve come here to talk about,” Ella said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Right,” the interviewer nodded. “You’ve become the planet’s most recognized activist when it comes to mind isolation. Some people say this punishment is—”
“It’s not punishment,” Ella interjected, her lips quivering with rage. “It’s torture. And it has to end. The United Nations Space Force confiscated this technology, and now they’re using it.”
Simon squeezed her hand comfortingly.
“What, really, is the difference between prison and mind isolation?” The interviewer asked.
“Imagine having no senses. No touch, no sight, no sound. You can’t move. You can’t speak. You can’t even feel yourself breathing. You’re in a black void, completely disconnected from anything. No stimulus. No hope. Nothing. You don’t know how much time has passed. You don’t know when you’ll get out. It seems to last an eternity. It’s meant to break people.”
Ella’s voice cracked and Simon took over. With his athletic build and his tousled hair he was perfect for the camera. “Ella was strong. And lucky. But this technology should be destroyed. Not used by us.”
“What do you say to the UN who says that we’re fighting an insurgency and we need to use every advantage we have?” the interviewer asked.
Ella wiped away a tear and set her jaw. Grim but determined. “If we’re using this technology. If we’re isolating people’s minds and stealing their bodies. Then we’re no better than the previous regime. What happens when the war ends? Governments don’t give up this technology voluntarily.”
There was more to the interview, but this was the minute and a half that was shared and replayed throughout the system. Public outrage exploded across the system and ignited demands for scrutiny of every institution that exploited body swapping technology. Rumors spread of covert UN missions that had used the technology. Anger spread throughout the networks, fanned by two icons who, themselves, were victims of the technology as they balanced their rage with their need to drive up views of their more intimate videos.
[Ella is right. Body swapping technology should not exist.] -Taron
[Spread this video! Who are the bad guys now? Vaughn was evil and the UN is starting to copy him.] -Milo
[Breaking news: Just received this top secret video of GOVERNMENT AGENTS using body swapping on a mission.] -Taron
[Who’s to stop the UN from taking *your* body for their own ends? Sending it out to do whatever they want?] -Milo
[Or using it for their own pleasure 😉 ] -Taron
[Imagine if it was your family doing to each other what Taron does to me?] -Milo
[Now you’re just encouraging them, Milo!] -Taron
[Sometimes it sucks being so damn horny in this body.] -Milo
[Speaking of sucking, watch us suck on each other in our latest video!] -Taron
Taron and Milo sat beside each other facing separate consoles, sending out their messages to their vast and growing number of followers. Taron sometimes still wished he’d never had the guts to journey down to the Depths of Salopia and visit the gang known as the Outfit to swap their bodies for what amounted to some loose change and the fulfillment of a dare that was soon forgotten.
The twin leaders of The Outfit, Rav and Ali, had promised Taron and Milo their male bodies back in eight days. During that time, they would be stuck in the bodies that Rav and Ali chose for them. They’d agreed. Foolishly. Drunkenly. Little knowing that the chosen bodies would be those of prostitutes.
Taron had taken a seat in the specialized chair as a beanpole, redheaded twenty-one-year old man, and stood back up from a different seat in the body of a short, caramel-skinned prostitute with full hips, a narrow waist, and alluring creamy breasts. Dark, straight hair cascaded down his shoulders and his almond-shaped brown eyes were sensual and inviting. Milo had gone from a short, stocky man with the boyishness of youth to a voluptuous Black woman with fire in her brown eyes.
Climbing back up to the Lows, they’d been faced with their new appearance in the reaction of every onlooker, and the disapprobation of their families. They were embarrassed and awkward. Their bodies jiggling in strange ways. Hips swaying. Breasts jostling at each motion.
They’d begun to explore alone and with each other. Starting and stopping as curiosity yielded to embarrassment and then back again. They’d lasted six days before secretly meeting up when Milo’s family had left their unit. Their explorations had been fumbling and halting. Two virgins experimenting with dream bodies. Their male horniness playing out in their female frames.
When they’d returned to Wynne’s Cornerclub in the Depths to confront The Outfit on the eighth day—their clothes ill-fitting, bodies a far cry from the made up perfection they’d found them in—Rav and Ali had broken the news.
“Sorry, boys,” Rav said, placing a heavy hand on Taron’s shoulder. “Your bodies are indisposed for the foreseeable future.”
“You said seven days!” Taron said, the rage flashing in his eyes just making him all the more sensual.
Ali shrugged. “Things changed. Your bodies were needed elsewhere. But if you’d like to make some money…” Ali trailed off and stroked Taron’s adorable face.
Read the rest on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords or Amazon.