Distant Gardens: Ten Stories of Exploration, Biodiversity, and Found Family, page 1
Distant Gardens
“Radiant” copyright © 2021 by N.L. Bates
“Jellyfish Lovepotion” copyright © 2021 by J.S. Fields
“Thorns and Fur” copyright © 2021 by William C. Tracy
“Dew Diligence” copyright © 2021 by Robin C.M. Duncan
“Killer Trees and Second Chances” copyright © 2021 by Sara Codair
“How to Steal a Planet” copyright © 2021 by N.L. Bates
“Brie and the Marsh Kraken” copyright 2021 by Sara Codair
“Down Among the Mushrooms” copyright © 2021 by William C. Tracy
“The Bibliothek Betrayal” copyright © 2021 by Robin C.M. Duncan
“Rings” copyright © 2021 by J.S. Fields
Copyright © 2021 by Space Wizard Science Fantasy
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Space Wizard Science Fantasy
Raleigh, NC
www.spacewizardsciencefantasy.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover by MoorBooks
Illustrations by Katie Cordy
Copy Editing by Heather Tracy
Book Layout © 2015 BookDesignTemplates.com
Distant Gardens
Ten Stories of Exploration, Biodiversity, and Found Family
Edited by J.S. Fields & Heather Tracy
CONTENTS
Radiant
Jellyfish Lovepotion
Thorns and Fur
Dew Diligence
Killer Trees and Second Chances
How to Steal a Planet
Brie and the Marsh Kraken
Down Among the Mushrooms
The Bibliothek Betrayal
Rings
Introduction
Five friends.
One critique group.
Far, far too much time in lockdown.
I joined an online critique group back in 2017, after getting an R&R on the first Ardulum book and needing some fresh eyes on the work. Fast forward to 2021 and the core group found our work increasingly coalescing in theme and tone—to the point where someone (I’m not naming names) got it into their head that we could probably write an anthology.
But what kind of anthology? Turned out my love of lesfic, especially SFF lesfic, had become a weird, unifying force. We talked about lesbian culture a lot, from teasing out chapstick lesbian from lipstick lesbian, to nail lengths, to nail polishes, to the uniquely subverted patriarchal-tinged pick-up lines women sometimes use on each other. All those conversations, including having read through my past five books, we felt ready—as a group—to write a collection of stories. Plus, having me edit the collection ensured we didn’t fall into any ‘her breasts breasted boobily’ traps. Not that our readers would likely mind extensive breast bouncing scenes but, you know, I wanted this anthology to be at least slightly higher brow.
We wanted more than just a collection of otherworldly lesbians, however. We wanted to write for lesfic and wlw readers, while holding true to our shared SFF roots (especially the tropes in those roots). ‘Distant Gardens’ spans deadly plants, space fungi, stolen planets, and terraformed worlds. There are superheroes (in very tight pants), monster real estate agents, koalas, interstellar corporations, and exploding faeries. We have also used the broadest possible definition of ‘lesbian’ to include bisexual and pansexual women, trans women, and nonbinary and intersex folx who find themselves at home under the lesbian flag. This anthology is f/f in the very best sense—inclusive and exploratory and unabashedly anti-TERF.
Each author here has included two stories—one from a completely new world, and another based on characters from their already established books. It’s my hope that if you’ve come here following your favorite author, you might also find a window into an entirely new series or genre. If you’re new to us all, then double welcome! From Atalant and Emn’s long-awaited engagement story, to a trans mycologist and her very friendly mercenary, to a woman who loses control of her car and finds herself hanging from a tree in fairyland, I hope you enjoy this weird, wild, eclectic collection of wayward planets, plants, and fungi, and the lesbians who battle (and sometimes love) them.
- J. S. Fields, May 2021
A note on the stories contained herein:
Each tale is marked on the title page with what sapphic representation is involved, as well as any content warnings. There is also a “Heat Level” if you wish to read or not read particular sexual content. The scale is as follows:
Low/None: There may be talk of sex, holding hands, or possibly kissing.
Medium: Mention of body parts, touching, and make-out sessions, but all scenes are “fade to black.”
Hot!: Has at least one full sex scene, start to finish. You have been warned (or encouraged…).
Radiant
N.L. Bates
Sapphic Representation: Lesbian, Bi/Pan
Heat Level: Medium
Content Warnings: Coarse Language, Violence
There were plenty of superheroes who could handle your standard foil-the-villain, defeat-the-doomsday-device, save-the-child-from-the-burning-building type situation.
Annalise Warren, glorified garbage collector, wasn’t one of them.
True, the garbage she collected for a day job happened to be radioactive. Which was kind of neat, sure. But mostly being immune to radiation meant having to ‘out’ herself as a super constantly. Like when her dentist asked for an X-ray. Or explaining to her OBGYN that science had yet to discover a way to give her a mammogram.
Still, Anna did enjoy ordinary things. Gardening. Manicures with color-changing nail polish. Deconstructing old toasters into suits of armor. When CAPER’s priority ringtone startled her out of her garden on a Saturday afternoon, Anna—more intrigued than annoyed—answered on the first ring. It wasn’t like she had plans with her girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Pauline. Whatever.
“Code name Radiant,” her boss said. “It’s Eleanor. I need you for a waste retrieval. I’m afraid it’s urgent.”
Unlike chasing after supervillains, nuclear waste cleanup was predictable, urgent or not. And overtime pay never hurt. She could probably finish today, make enough to pay this month’s rent, and be back in time to watch karaoke at her favorite dive bar. “All right,” Anna said. “Where am I heading?”
“Vancouver Island.”
“What?” Christ, she hoped this wasn’t a tanker spill or something. “There aren’t any nuclear facilities on the island.”
“Correct,” Eleanor said. “You’ll be recovering material that was improperly released into the Pacific by Torgen Technologies. They were unlawfully using it to power their ‘Omen’ Project.”
“Shit,” Anna breathed. “Didn’t they just have an inspection of their power generation facilities? They asked me to consult on it but I passed because Pauline…I mean she…we had a thing.”
Eleanor, mercifully, ignored the last part of Anna’s sentence. “The authorities didn’t find anything. We now know why. They decided to dump the evidence in lieu of paying a fine.”
“I guess that nice waterfront property makes the ocean an easy dumping ground,” Anna said. They were using nuclear fuel to power that quantum computing thing they were building—the Optimized ElectroMagnetic Network (pronounced ‘omen,’ not OEMN, because of course it was). “Idiots.”
“Yes,” Eleanor said, in a tone that suggested there were many more words where that one had come from. “Ambient radiation levels have been rising since the initial detection, signature consistent with uranium-235. A runaway reaction is unlikely, but we need to act quickly. The salt in the water can form particularly dangerous contaminants that could have disastrous consequences for the marine life.”
“Right.” Anna had never done an underwater retrieval before. The trip to the island had been one of the reasons Pauline hadn’t wanted her to take the consulting job. Also because they’d just had a big fight over Anna’s long working hours and growing pile of dismantled toasters. “Do you have an exact location?”
“Not yet. There’s a map in your dossier,” Eleanor said. Anna’s phone buzzed in her hand. She tapped the screen and brought up the document.
Eleanor continued, “We’ve identified an area of interest, approximately twelve kilometers across. It’s an ecologically sensitive area. The kelp forest there still has healthy biomarkers, however. For that reason, we assume the uranium has landed in the deeper waters beyond the kelp forest’s borders.”
That was good news, at least, that the forest was intact. Working in the Environmental Remediation and Recovery Department of CAPER, the Canadian Agency of Powered and Extra-ordinary Regulation, had taught her that kelp forests were immensely important to biodiversity and carbon sequestration—which humanity had realized almost too late. After the pr
Dumping nuclear waste in the ocean could do a lot more damage than a brush fire.
“Your requisitioned submarine is radiation-spec and has sufficient space for the amount of nuclear waste we expect you will recover,” Eleanor said, “but you’ll need to conduct the retrieval manually. The scuba gear and the Atmospheric Diving Suit do not have radiation shielding, which is why I need you.”
Anna cleared her throat. “I, um, don’t actually know how to use any of that.”
“Your partner for this assignment does,” Eleanor said, with such perfect assurance that Anna almost laughed. Of course Eleanor was way ahead of her. “She’s a diving enthusiast, and will be able to train you on the equipment. I also have permission to divulge that she has advanced capabilities which should help you locate the uranium once you’re on-site.”
‘Advanced capabilities,’ of course, was office code for superpowers.
“You may have met before, actually,” Eleanor added. “Chris Carlysle?”
At first, Anna couldn’t place the name, but scrolling through the dossier she found a staff photo of a woman she recognized: tousled brunette pixie cut, complexion as sandy as the beach they’d met on, and an easy, confident smile that drew Anna in like a tide to the shore.
“The dossier includes your travel itinerary,” Eleanor added.
“Itinerary,” Anna mumbled. Chris’s dimples reminded her, fleetingly, of Pauline. She’d always been a sucker for dimples.
“Annalise? Is something the matter?”
Anna should have been planting tulips in her garden, trying to forget all about women. And Chris probably didn’t even remember her. This did not have to be a big deal.
“Nothing,” she replied. She flicked a clump of dirt from her knee, cleared her mind of all ex-girlfriend-related baggage, and said, “I’ll get ready to go.”
Just a totally ordinary waste retrieval, under the ocean, with equipment she didn’t know how to use and a woman she’d once had a crush on. Not that she cared about crushes. She’d broken up with Pauline less than a month ago. No, there was nothing the matter at all.
* * *
Anna had met Chris—two years ago? three?—at one of CAPER’s “how to be a superhero” workshops. She’d always thought the events were a waste of time, since she wasn’t really a superhero. But they were mandatory, because you never knew when you might be in the right place at the right time to save the world. And they were held at CAPER’s main headquarters on Vancouver Island, so Anna wasn’t going to complain. Saltwater spa. World-class fish tacos. It gave her an opportunity to explore the island’s many resort spots, which was how she’d wound up on a quiet beach in Tofino that weekend.
There was laughter from a nearby lodge, hidden by the treeline. She’d heard birdsong. And the waves. The taste of lime-dressed halibut lingered in her mouth. Anna sat with her feet in the water, watching the waves trace patterns of lace across a surface of mirrored turquoise.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
When Anna retold the story in her head, she hadn’t jumped at the sound of another voice. She definitely hadn’t squeaked.
The speaker was a tall brunette in a black wetsuit. Her face was distorted by a snorkeling mask, but Anna remembered that distinctive hourglass shape from the workshops. She’d been wearing a bracelet the same brushed nickel color as Anna’s most recent toaster acquisition.
“Nice? Yes,” Anna said. And then, trying to find a response that wasn’t completely silly, she added, “Lots of beautiful things out here. Like your bracelet. And you.”
She’d promptly covered her mouth with her hand.
The brunette smirked. “I’m glad you think so.” She walked past Anna and into the water, untucking a pair of flippers from under her arm. “Name’s Chris, by the way.”
“Uh. Anna.” She got to her feet, suddenly conscious of her soggy shorts.
Chris glanced up from her flippers as Anna brushed clumps of sand from her legs, and grinned. “Might want to go for a swim and rinse everything off. That sand gets everywhere, trust me.” And then, before Anna could come up with a clever response, she winked and turned toward the sea.
At the time, Anna had found the comment a bit crass. But in the hotel shower that night, scrubbing sand from the inconvenient crevices between her thighs, she had to admit Chris had had a point. And an incandescent smile.
The steady stream from the showerhead felt cold against the sudden warmth of her body. Anna reached for the soap. Flirting was one thing. Lusting after coworkers quite so avidly seemed like another. She should focus on the bracelet. The smile. Ignore the hips and…everything that went along with them.
But for the rest of the trip, every time she had to shake sand out of her underwear, she found herself thinking about Chris.
* * *
Anna had wondered a few times if she should’ve made more of an effort to reconnect. She’d even looked Chris up in the staff directory once, but chickened out. Too creepy, she’d told herself.
She’d met Pauline not long after, so she hadn’t regretted it much. Until Pauline had thrown out half her toasters. Until Pauline had made the rule about wire clippers in the bedroom. Until Pauline had left and now…
“You’re overthinking it, Anna,” she murmured. Time for a distraction. She set her phone to read her the news as she boarded the ferry that would take her to Vancouver Island.
“Today is the fifth anniversary of the ‘hurricane hacker’ ransomware attack,” her phone chirped. “The attack deactivated an entire fleet of StormAI rescue vehicles during Hurricane Malia, resulting in eleven deaths. While perpetrator Samantha Siimes was imprisoned after the attack, her accomplices were never discovered.”
“Annalise, right?” said a familiar voice behind her. A voice that conjured up images of sand, and underwear, and that amazing lime dressing.
“…may be behind the most recent copycat attack,” her phone continued. “Recently, a cyberattacker calling themselves the ‘Tropical Trojan—’”
Anna swiped at the pause button. “Hi. Yes. It’s me. You’re, uh. Not wearing the bracelet.”
Chris smiled and didn’t even look at her wrist. “It’s good to see you again, too.”
Anna couldn’t help but smile back. “You too,” she said, and followed Chris down to the private room CAPER had reserved below deck. A tiny, closet-like room where Anna couldn’t avoid staring. Chris’s hair was a little longer than Anna remembered, but it still stuck out every which way. She had a hook nose and a strong jaw. She wore fashionably understated lip gloss and leggings that showed off far more than the wetsuit had.
No lusting after coworkers, Anna.
Anna turned to Chris as the door closed behind them. “I guess you’re driving the submarine?”
“That’s right. I am your underwater field guide for this adventure,” Chris said. “I know you have an ADS, but I’ll show you how to use the scuba gear.”
“ADS?”
“Atmospheric Diving Suit,” Chris said. “It’s a pain in the ass, but it’ll keep you from getting the bends.” She frowned. “But it won’t protect you from radiation exposure.”
“Oh, I don’t need to worry about that,” Anna said, trying to sound casual. “I’m immune.”
Chris’s face lit up. “Oh! You’re Radiant! I’ve heard of your work.”
“You have?” Okay, Anna had been bragging, but she hadn’t actually expected it to work. “I mean…Mostly I pick up heavy things and put them down somewhere else. It isn’t that big of a deal.”
