Welcome! I've posted the first three chapters of The Girls from Alcyone II: The Machines of Bellatrix. While the book is "done" some elements (names, dates, typos!) may still change between now and publication. In the mean time, enjoy.
The Girls From Alcyone II
THE MACHINES OF BELLATRIX
by Cary Caffrey
Copyright 2013 by Cary Caffrey
The Girls from Alcyone II: THE MACHINES OF BELLATRIX Published by Cary Caffrey. Copyright 2013 by Cary Caffrey. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information, visit Cary Caffrey at carycaffrey.com
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This novel is a work of fiction created by the author. All characters, events and organizations portrayed in this novel are works of the author's imagination.
Copyright 2013 by Cary Caffrey
Published by Alcyone Studio, NB, Canada
All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
Train à Grande Vitesse
July 14, 2348
Bellatrix
The TGV sped along, cruising at a pedestrian 782 kph, venturing deeper into the desert wastes of Bellatrix. The noise and crowds of the city were quickly left behind. There was nothing before it now—nothing but open desert and the thousands of kilometers of empty track that stretched out into the night.
There was little to see outside and even less to hear. Not even the rushing blast of transonic winds could penetrate the insulated passenger compartment. The only sounds in the cabin came from the labored breathing of Dr. Farrington's slumbering companion. The doctor didn't know the man's name, nor did he care to. He was far too preoccupied, too busy mulling over the course of recent events. Events that had led him to this godforsaken armpit of a planet.
Independents.
How Farrington had become involved with a group of rebels was beyond him. He never cared for politics and avoided such topics when possible. It was only his work that mattered.
Farrington cursed. The whole thing was academic. The facility on Scorpii was lost, and his work now in the hands of the Council for Trade and Finance. He was a wanted man. A fugitive. And he was still no closer to an answer.
He knew whose fault this was. It was the Lady Hitomi Kimura. She should never have fired him from the project. Without him, Project Andraste would not exist. Not without his research. Not without his diligence. Without him, Andraste would still be a proposal sitting on some middle-manager's desk. And for this, for all his efforts, he'd been sacked. It was Hitomi's fault he'd been forced to continue his work elsewhere.
And it was Hitomi's fault he'd ever been found by the Independents.
Dr. Farrington sat a little straighter then. He tugged on the edge of his shirt and thrust his chin out. It mattered not. He would start again. Here, if he had to. There were always new investors. No one knew more about Hitomi's work than he. And this time it would be different. This time he would be in control.
Dr. Farrington had made certain of that.
Farrington dug deep into his coat pocket. His damp fingers coiled around the tiny object thrust there, if only to assure himself that it was still there and still safe. It had not been easy to smuggle off of Scorpii, but he had done what was necessary, and now it was his and his alone. Farrington withdrew his prize. The tiny data-module was no more than two centimeters square, but it was crammed with vast petabytes of data, exact copies of the Primary Control Modules taken from seven girls captured on Alcyone. Now, all he needed was time. Time to study. Time to plan.
Farrington leaned against the window of the small cabin and looked out. Not that there was anything to see. Bellatrix had no moon to light their way. And it was not a scenic planet. Flat and arid, the only landmarks of note were the squat scatterings of manufacturing centers that dotted the landscape, huge factory complexes surrounded by squalid ghettos that had sprung up to house the migrant working population.
People didn't come here for the sights, they came here to die.
But that suited Dr. Farrington just fine. No one would be searching for him here.
Farrington felt the slight shift in the cabin. He checked his wristwatch again. They would be slowing now as they made their approach into New Shēnzhèn. He reached for his bag. From here it would be a simple matter to lose himself in the crowds. He would find a quiet place to hole up, rest, and yes, work. Here he could finish his work without the nonsense of wars or rebellion to distract him. When he was ready, he would name his price, he would—
"Excuse me, Dr. Farrington?"
Farrington gave a start and looked down to see the meaty hand that gripped his wrist. For the first time he took notice of his cabin companion. The man across from him slumbered soundly no more.
Farrington tried to pull his arm away, but the man held him fast. He realized the bulk he'd mistaken for fat was not fat at all. The man was on the large size, but he was powerfully built, barrel-chested and with thick strong arms. He had the stern look of a professional, one used to giving orders and having those orders followed.
Mercenaries.
"Let me go—release me!"
The mercenary considered the request. "As you wish." He relaxed his grip, causing the doctor to tumble back against his seat. Farrington's eyes shot quickly to the cabin door.
"You are free to go," the mercenary said. "I didn't come all this way to hold you hostage, but fleeing will serve neither of us."
Breathing heavily from the exertion, Farrington glared back at him. There was only one thought in his head—flight. Farrington lunged for the cabin door and threw it open—only to bounce off the person standing in the doorway, a steel wall blocking his way.
He fell back on his seat and stared up at the person who had prevented his escape. A woman! Not even a woman. A girl, a teenager of no more than seventeen and half his size. The long black coat she wore came down nearly to the floor, hiding most of her slight figure; dark lenses shielded her eyes. She turned slowly toward him and stared down, her face cold, thoroughly devoid of emotion.
Farrington shuddered.
"Come in, Madelyn. Shut the door."
The girl obeyed. She stood with her back to the door, hands at her side, feet apart. Farrington wasn't going anywhere.
Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Farrington dabbed the sweat from his forehead. "I—I thought you said I was free to go."
"Yes, but not before returning what you stole from us."
Farrington's hands shot to his pocket. He pawed at the lining, searching, digging deep, but his treasure, the data-module, was gone.
"I'll take that now, Madelyn," the mercenary said.
Farrington watched as the girl handed the prize over to him. All his efforts, all this time, it was all for naught. He had lost. Without the stolen module, he was nothing. This mercenary should have killed him. It would have been more merciful.
"Oh, do cheer up, Doctor. It's not as bad as all that. You must know that we could not let you leave with such a prize."
"Who—who are you?"
"My name is Tarsus. Major Karl Tarsus. My companion's name is Madelyn. Say hello, Madelyn."
The girl turned her head toward him as if on a swivel. She looked down at him, but said nothing. Farrington felt himself recoil despite himself.
"What…what will you do with me?" Dr. Farrington asked; he feared he already knew the answer.
"That, my good doctor, is up to you. You have two choices, as I see it. You can walk out that door—yes, we will let you go, I assure you. Ah, but what waits for you out there? That is the question. Have you considered that? I think you will find the realities quite harsh. You're a wanted man now, Doctor. A terrorist. I'm afraid the authorities are well aware of you and the role you played on Scorpii. They have prepared quite the reception for you. But fear not. It was not chance that got you this far, Doctor, I assure you. You are only here because we wanted you here."
Farrington noticed his mouth had drooped open and closed it. "Here? On Bellatrix? Why…?"
"You didn't think the facility on Scorpii was the only one, did you? No, I can see you didn't give it much thought. Well, then I will tell you. Scorpii was nothing. This…" Tarsus gestured up around him, his palms open, arms wide. "This is where it began. And this is where it will end. With your help."
"You have the data-module. You don't need me."
"Don't be so modest. If all we wanted was the data, we could have taken that when we spotted you at the transfer station on Hadar. You are one of the few remaining people to have worked directly with Lady Hitomi Kimura. That experience is of value to us. And perhaps we have something of value to offer you."
"I want nothing to do with you. What could you possibly offer me?"
"Security, for one. Your life, for another. A place to continue your work, undisturbed by the authorities. The pride that comes with scientific achievement. Oh—and perhaps we have one other thing to offer you. The one thing you need more than anything."
Farrington caught the gleam in Tarsus's eye and took the bait. "What?"
Tarsus glanced to the girl by the door. "Why, Doctor, we have volunteers, of course."
Volunteers…? Farrington felt dizzy, sick. Was it true? Had he really been manipulated so easily—guided all this way? It couldn't be. It was impossible. He'd been so careful. But this man was here. Waiting for him. And that girl… What had Tarsus said? Volunteers.
Farrington stared up at the girl as if for the first time. He understood then and felt the fool for missing it. "She's one of them, isn't she? From Andraste?"
"You mean from Alcyone? No, Doctor. Madelyn is something entirely different. Isn't that true, Madelyn? Why don't you show the doctor?"
The girl removed her glasses to look upon the doctor with her own eyes. No. Not eyes at all, Farrington saw. Bionics. Constructs. He spotted the artificial irises, the lenses shifting to focus on him, scanning him. Little attempt had been made to make them look human or natural; this was pure mechanical efficiency. Farrington rose. His fear vanished in an instant, replaced by scientific curiosity.
Without thinking, he reached out, held her face, turning her head back and forth. Her skin was cold to the touch. But when he moved to examine her eyes, her gloved hand came up to halt Farrington's probing fingers. The hand that gripped him felt hard, unyielding.
He looked at the glove and then to Tarsus. "May I?"
Tarsus nodded.
Farrington peeled back the glove and stared at the artificial limb. Plasteel skin stretched all the way up to the girl's elbow, where it melded to the reddened flesh of her natural arm. The bionics were advanced, efficient. But this was a blunt instrument, ugly, simple and crude. This was not the work of the Lady Hitomi. Farrington had seen this work before.
"Wolsey."
"I'm impressed. You recognize the man's work."
Farrington's lips formed into a sneer. "The man wouldn't know a micro-dermatome if it slapped him in the face."
Tarsus chuckled.
Dr. Wolsey had worked under him during his time at Kimura Corp—using most of his time to plot against him, apparently. It had been Wolsey's report that had seen Farrington dismissed; the student betrays the mentor.
Farrington looked again at the girl. It was clear they'd made advances, solved problems that had eluded him. The jealousy burned within him.
"How—how did you solve the issue with the Recombinant?"
"I promise you, I have absolutely no idea. Perhaps you'd like to ask Dr. Wolsey in person?"
"In person? He's here, then."
"Has been from the beginning. Before me."
Tarsus tossed the prized module back to him. Farrington promptly dropped it, and scrambled to pick it up, clutching it to his chest.
"The key is now in your hands, Doctor. It's time to finish what you started. What say you?"
Finish? Was it possible?
His eyes shot again to the cabin door. The logical part of him knew he should walk out, run as fast as he could. But there was another part, a vengeful petty part, and it wanted something else entirely. It wanted revenge.
No comments:
Post a Comment