⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “This is a really great story. It's got adventure, heartache, love and the friendship of an alien mouse. Oh, yeah. The Bad Guys. There's lots of bad guys!” —Kindle reviewer Fifty years in space—alone. Ethan Bryant was supposed to fall asleep on a ship leaving Earth and wake up fifty years later with his family on the planet Minea. Instead, after the ship’s caretaker—the lone human in charge of monitoring the ship’s vital systems—suddenly died, the ship’s computer locked Ethan out of his stasis chamber and gave him the job. That was five years ago. Five years of checking to make sure everything runs smoothly on a ship Ethan knows almost nothing about. Who wouldn’t dread the years ahead? Who wouldn’t long for their once-bright future now stolen away? Ethan is resigned to his fate until the ship suddenly wakes up another passenger: a beautiful engineer who, along with Ethan, soon discovers a horrible secret—a navigation room hidden from even the ship’s computer. The ship is not bound for Minea—but to somewhere far more dangerous. With the ship nearing its sinister destination, Ethan soon learns he is the only one who holds the key to saving all 4,000 passengers from a highly-advanced, hostile alien race. ____________________ Praise for Caretaker by Josi Russell: 2015 Award Finalist in 2 categories: Speculative; Best Novel by a New Author 2016 State Book Award Finalist ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Incredible sci-fi story!” —Jen L. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “This story was quite a surprise. I was unprepared for the depth of emotions this book held.” —Reader ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “I loved this book and read it all in one go.” —Kindle reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Loved it!!! Very Thought Provoking (in the best possible way)” —Reader ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Pick it up...you won't put it down!” —Kindle reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “It was all delicious. I devoured this book.” —Kindle reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Call it a space opera with a delicious brand of character development that keeps you looking forward to the next turn of events.” —H.K. R. Josi Russell teaches creative writing and fiction courses as an associate professor of English for Utah State University Eastern. She lives in the alien landscape of the high desert American Southwest with her family and a giant tortoise named Caesar. Josi is captivated by the fields of linguistics, mathematics, and medicine, by the vast unknown beyond our atmosphere, and by the whole adventure of being human. He liked to walk among the bodies in stasis. The translucent pinks and mahoganies of their skin in the half-light of the stasis chambers were a relief to his eyes after days spent in the angular, metallic body of the ship. At first, after the ship had assigned Ethan to be Caretaker, he had sat on the floor of the corridor outside Aria’s chamber and wept. He glanced at his wife now. Her distended belly stretched the fabric of the stasis suit, and he thought of the baby inside, also waiting for awakening. He wondered if it could hear the deep, rhythmic sounds of the ship. Closing his eyes for a moment, he listened to the whoosh of circulating air, the thrum of the stasis system, and, when he listened very closely, the almost imperceptible whir of the SL drive, propelling them farther and farther from home. Opening his eyes again, he checked Aria’s readouts. Everything still looked fine, and she was the last on his rounds. He didn’t really need to make the rounds—the computer continuously monitored every vital sign on every passenger—but it gave him something to do during the long days of hurtling through space. Ethan glanced down the row of stasis chambers. Upright silver capsules, each filled with stasis fluid and a human life. Aria’s red hair floated gently in the clear fluid around her, waving with  movements of the ship imperceptible to him. He felt the old ache gnawing at him—that need to touch her cheek, to pull her close to him. That had never gone away, even after five years of watching her through the glass. It was still strange to him, having her so close, being aware of everything about her, but still being so far away. He felt that he’d lived a lifetime since she’d closed her eyes. “Computer,” he requested, “what is the status of passenger three nine nine nine?” "Status normal, Mr. Bryant,” the simulated voice answered. He had known that from the readouts, but he still liked hearing it. Laying his hand on the glass, he began to sing, softly at first, an old Earth lullaby: “Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, Hill and dale in slumber sleeping I my loved ones' watch am keeping, All through the night While the weary world is sleeping All through the night . . .”   He had taken up singing after about the third month. At first he just sang to his family as he sat in front of their chamber. As time passed, though, he started singing to all of them during his rounds. And he sang to himself in the Caretaker’s hold or while he puttered around. He knew he wasn’t good, but the sound of a human voice—even if it was his own—was a welcome change from the mechanical voice of