REDEMPTION PROTOCOL is a hard hitting space opera/ scifi adventure. It
is the FIRST book in the Contact series.
John Havoc was betrayed into murdering over three hundred thousand
people with a biological weapon. The only thing left in his hollowed out world
is retribution.
Havoc is drawn into a top secret Contact mission –
humanity's first – after an extraordinary energy source is detected at the
limit of reachable space. While the crew of the AV Intrepid struggle with saboteurs and hostile ships, they fail to
realize that the alien world they’re exploring holds dangers that threaten far
more than their ship. Imprisoned on Plash is a weapon of unimaginable horror –
a species eliminator.
‘Epic no-holds-barred sci-fi thriller, highly recommended!’ T. BENJAMIN
‘A hard-hitting, fast-paced, exciting book. I would thoroughly recommend
it, whether you're in to sci-fi, fantasy or even just a dramatic read.' T.
LLOYD
'Intricate plotting and characters and a brilliant ending that I found
to be quite inspiring! I loved it and thoroughly recommend it!' GK
'A lightning paced, hard-hitting, action packed, Sci-Fi thriller, with
all the suspense of a thunder storm. ' A. BOWEN
Rated [R]. Violence, sex, profanity.
US English. 166,500 words.
Damnation
Anna ran up the corridor,
doused in red flashing lights, her feet rapping out the rhythm of her fear. A
multitude of ship alarms tore at her senses, superfluous. She knew the intruder
was close behind her, massive and heavily armored.
Invulnerable.
Terror ripped at her senses,
her face set in a silent scream. She clawed at the air as she ran, grasping for
more speed, for salvation.
Her uniform was soaked in
Sarah's blood and brain splatter.
Sarah, her best friend, was
dead.
She knew she was going into
shock. It didn't help.
On shipnet, the dot
depicting the intruder swept along, implacable
and merciless. Seven of her crewmates’
vitals were dark – deceased. Ten of them left.
A life blinked out of
existence.
Nine left.
She gasped. She wanted to
close her eyes and hide. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real. The
intruder’s dot converged smoothly with the end of the corridor behind her.
There was a bright flash.
Eight left.
The end of the corridor was
coming, but it wasn't coming fast enough.
She found religion in those
last few meters; begging, pleading, willing her Lord to save her.
Please, God, let me make it.
~ ~ ~
Tully looked over at Katie,
the girl that wild horses couldn't drag out of his mind, as she sat surrounded
by her friends. So near, yet so far.
The square outside his
building had a small playground with a merry-go-round, a slide and some swings.
Katie sat on the right hand swing with one foot dangling beneath her, like an
angel perched in the crook of the moon. As Tully looked over, his heart rate
accelerated and his hands began to sweat. Katie glanced across and he smiled.
Too
late. By the time he’d smiled, she'd looked away.
Why
was this so difficult? His entire life now revolved around asking her out.
Stage one: plan to ask her out (infinite detail), stage two: fail to ask her
out (infinite embarrassment) and stage three: regret not asking her out
(infinite remorse). Repeat cycle until death, apparently.
He couldn't stop thinking
about her; her blonde hair, her pink hair band and the quirky black socks she
wore with her white sneakers. Her skin looked smooth and soft – he wanted to
touch it. He knew his mum would go nuts at him asking out a girl who had,
heaven forbid, blonde hair. But every time he saw her it made his whole day
better. Unless, that is, he'd told his buddy Jan that he was going to ask her
out. Talk about pressure.
“You're staring, Tully.”
He looked away.
“Well?” Jan said.
“Today is the day.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“Today.”
“And the day before.”
“Try and help me, Jan!”
“She wants you. She keeps
looking at you. What's the worst that can happen?”
“Humiliation. Embarrassment.
Ridicule.”
“Only words. You read too
much poetry.”
“Words have weight, my
father says.”
“It's not your father you
want to kiss though, is it, Tully?”
~ ~ ~
Anna collided with the wall
at the end of the corridor and pushed herself sideways, rounding the corner in
the nick of time. She sprinted the last few meters to the bridge and launched
herself through the open doorway.
Captain Morgan thrust a
weapon into her hands.
“Here.”
He pointed to the far side
of the room. Anna hurried past crewmates crouching behind consoles. They hadn't
had any time. No one was even wearing a suit. They were overmatched and
underequipped. The attack, so far inside Alliance space, was a total shock. She
imagined Karver separatists. But the capability of the intruder was beyond
expectations. It was outrageous.
She stopped on the far side
of the room, furthest from the door. Seven crew left. Their last stand. There
was nowhere else to go.
“Should we jettison the LX?”
she asked.
Captain Morgan smiled and
shook his head. He stood to one side of the doorway with his weapon raised.
She watched on shipnet as
the intruder approached. The image of the intruder’s heavy combat suit
flickered and froze. She frowned. Surely the intruder couldn't have disrupted
shipnet?
She had to get out of here.
She was on leave in two days time; three whole weeks with Stevie. She'd been
planning it for months.
She looked down at her tunic
and grimaced.
“Any help?” she asked.
“Help is on its way,” their
Communication Officer confirmed.
“How long?”
There was a pause.
“Ten. Ten minutes.”
No one said anything. No one
had to.
~ ~ ~
Katie sneaked another glance
at Tully. He had dark unruly hair and light coffee skin. He was thin and wiry
and delicious. She thought he looked exotic. At night when she thought about
him, she imagined his kiss would taste exotic, like rare spices. At night, the
thought of his lips made her feel hot and restless. Now, it just made her feel
frustrated.
“What's he doing Mel?” she
asked, for perhaps the eighth time.
“He's looking at you.”
“Ugh. What's wrong with me?”
“Nothing. He likes you. He's
just a coward.”
“No, he isn't,” she hissed.
“Then why isn't he coming
over?”
“Because he wants it to be
perfect.”
“Duh. Maybe there are too
many of us. Maybe that's what's scaring him.”
“He's not scared!”
“You want us to go?”
“No, no way.”
“Ooh, are you scared?”
“Mel!”
“What will your mum say?”
Mel crossed her eyes. “She'll. Go. Nuts.”
Katie laughed.
~ ~ ~
Anna hefted the unfamiliar
weapon in her hand. She was a flight navigator, for God's sake. What was she
meant to do with this thing? Captain Morgan gestured at her to get down. She ducked down behind the forward console, shielding
herself from the doorway.
She looked around. There was
nothing but bulkhead and screens behind her. She clung onto her weapon. She had
to make it out of here.
Captain Morgan exuded
confidence. They were properly armed and their defensive position was strong.
Help was on its way. Her face grew determined. She was going to make it
out of here.
Captain Morgan cleared his
throat.
“Unauthorized intruder. I
will give you––”
There was a loud bang, then
silence.
Anna swallowed. She forced
herself to look around the side of the console. Captain Morgan's headless body
stood, one hand still raised, next to a smoking hole in the wall.
Fire erupted from her
crewmates, obliterating the wall. Captain Morgan's tottering corpse
disintegrated. She cowered behind the console with her heart galloping. Someone
was screaming.
It
was her.
~ ~ ~
Tully stared over the
yawning chasm at Katie.
At night, it was simple,
clear and obvious. In the day, with Katie so close by, it was complicated,
labyrinthine and opaque.
At night, his confidence was
a mountain, rising above the clouds like a beacon for the world. Now, looking
at Katie, his confidence would comfortably fit in a toddler’s bucket. It
trickled away like sand in an hourglass, shrinking with every passing second of
procrastination.
Jan sighed.
“C'mon, Tully, we have to
get to class. You've had your chance. Again.”
Ouch.
“No. Wait.”
“You always say that, Tully.
Tully?”
His legs were striding
forward. He didn't know who was controlling them or what was powering them. He
could hardly feel them. He floated into no man's land.
“Tully!”
He turned his head. Jan was
grinning like an idiot.
“Remember to smile.”
Tully nodded as his legs
carried him away from Jan and toward his blonde Princess.
“Good luck!”
~ ~ ~
Anna felt time dilate,
deforming under the pressure of events.
Thousands of hammers pounded
anvils, battering her senses. The bridge reeked of brimstone; the kinetic
rounds traveling so fast they burned the very air around them. Pungent smoke
curled around her. The red combat lighting colored it blood, transforming the
bridge into a tenth circle of hell. She drew her knees up and hugged herself,
desperate to be anywhere but here.
Two of her crewmates blinked
out of life.
Five of them left. She
needed to do something.
With her teeth clenched and
her eyes screwed shut, she thrust her weapon around the side of the console and
discharged it. The weapon danced in her hands as the micromissiles streaked
out, spiraling across the bridge and seeking out her enemy.
She was punched hard in the
stomach and driven back by the stunning force of the blow. Her eyes popped
open. She found herself slumped against the bulkhead with a gaping hole in her
abdomen. She opened her mouth to express surprise. A mouthful of blood splashed
down her tunic.
She vened hytelline, took
everything, all at once.
Shit.
~ ~ ~
“Katie! He's coming!”
“What?”
“He's com... oh, he's
stopped.”
“Stopped?”
“No, he's coming. He's
definitely coming over! Ooh.”
“Mel!”
Mel squeezed her arm, hard.
“Stay calm. Don't giggle.
But do smile. But don't witter. He's nearly here!”
“Mel!”
“Ooh, exciting!”
~ ~ ~
Anna tried to concentrate.
Only two of them left. She felt numb and distracted. She looked absentmindedly
at her weapon, a meter from her hand.
Standing in the doorway,
obscured by the haze and bathed in red light, was the black silhouette of the
intruder. Their jetpack reared up like demonic wings as smoke drifted from
their shoulder racks.
It was the devil, come to
collect.
The intruder walked forward
with their right arm raised like tyrannical justice. Her final crewmate stood
up and... died. So quick, so meaningless.
Her gut ached in a distant,
remote way.
The devil approached her.
She raised her eyes and
stared at him. She was the final remaining member of the Alliance Vessel Defiance.
She'd never thought of the name as ironic, until now. She thought about Stevie
in his dungarees. She brought up a picture of her son in her mind's eye. Maybe
she should try to dictate a message, say something.
The reality of what was
happening hit her.
She sobbed.
~ ~ ~
Tully stopped in front of
the swing.
Katie looked up at him. Her
expression was cool. She had a lollipop in her mouth and twirled the stick in
her right hand.
The girls looked wary and a
bit, well, scary. Tully looked down at Katie's cute black socks. Shit, he was
looking at his feet. Attitude. He
raised his head. Katie’s best friend, Mel, lifted her chin.
“Yeah?”
“Hi.”
He didn’t know what else to
say. Nothing came to mind.
Mel smirked. Tully’s mind
raced. He was blowing it. He'd had so many cool things to say, but now they all
seemed lame. He was on another continent over here. A foreign continent. He
turned to look back at Jan.
Jan shouted, loud enough to
clear traffic.
“You're the man, Tully!”
He grinned.
“Hi, Katie.”
“How do you know her name?”
Mel demanded.
Katie gently smacked Mel’s
arm. Hope surged in Tully.
“I was wondering if you want
to see a holo sometime?”
She looked up at him,
sucking on her lollipop, prolonging his agony.
“You know, erm, together.
Like, a date.”
“Ooh,” said the girls.
Tully caught the hint of a
smile at the corners of Katie’s mouth.
He waited in trepidation.
He never realized how long a
second was before.
~ ~ ~
Havoc stood by the forward
console, cloaked in smoke and red light. He retracted his visor as he deftly
flicked switches and communicated by cast. He didn't bother to mouth the words.
“I'm in.”
“I never doubted you, Son.”
“These clones are useless.”
“They're meant to be the
best.”
“A real crew wouldn't be so
easy.”
“Hmm.”
“Ok, weapons configured...
and away.”
Havoc thought about what
Forge had said about the clones. It sounded expensive.
“They're not going to give
me a hard time about the clones are they?”
“Don't worry, Son. I'm sure
that will be the least of their worries.”
“Good.”
He frowned. The clone lying
in front of him was trying to speak. It coughed blood.
“Please. Help me.”
“Hell, General. Clones
begging for their lives. What next?”
“It tests resolve, Son.”
“I have a son.”
“You're calling me Son and
she's telling me she's got a son.”
“She?”
“You know what I mean.”
“He's called Stevie.”
~ ~ ~
Tully watched Katie as he
bubbled in a pot of hope and fear.
Katie pulled the lollipop
out of her mouth and gave him a cute smile. Her voice was playful.
“What do you want to take me
to see?”
He might actually do this!
“Weelll,” he said, racking
his brain.
He realized that his face
was serious. Smile, Jan had said.
He smiled effervescently.
Katie smiled back.
It was working!
~ ~ ~
Havoc stepped back and
savored the moment.
“Full saturation. It's
done.”
High in the atmosphere of
Jemlevi, the munitions starburst. The shells rocketed outward before
starbursting again, deploying hundreds more canisters. Viewed from above, the
expanding circles looked like bacteria reproducing on a slide.
“Well done, Son. You should
feel proud. You've done a great thing.”
Havoc felt elated. It was
the pinnacle of his professional career. A twelve month covert operation
culminating in the penetration of a military ship on active duty. A one man
mission to highlight critical security weaknesses that could cost millions of
lives. Now they could assess the threat and take proper steps. Months of follow
up and closing the loop, but not by him. His job was done.
He felt justified pride in
himself, his service and his boss, General Claudius Forge.
“Thank you, Sir. I couldn't
have done it without you.”
“Well, hell, Son, I know
that.”
He laughed.
The clone choked.
“Please.”
He looked at it, bemused.
“Damn, you are convincing.”
“Help me.”
“Help you what?”
“To live. My son.”
He shook his head. The clone
stared at him, its features at a loss.
“What kind of monster are
you?”
He felt a twinge. It was too
much. Someone in aesthetic design deserved an award.
He shot her in the head.
It, he corrected himself.
~ ~ ~
Tully grinned.
It wasn’t by choice. His
cheeks pulled outward as if someone had hooked their fingers around the corners
of his mouth.
He was really grinning now.
He tried to speak.
He couldn’t. He couldn't
speak.
He lifted his hands to his
face, but they felt sluggish as if they were trapped in liquid amber. The amber
set and his arms froze into place.
Katie looked embarrassed.
“Ok, Tully, I'll go with
you.”
She was covering for him.
Her friends stared at him like he was some kind of weirdo. He wanted to tell
them that he wasn't, but he couldn't stop grinning. His face distorted as his
skin stretched tighter, exposing his gums.
His neck muscles contracted,
standing proud of his windpipe as they pulled his head down to his chest.
Saliva foamed out of his mouth and dribbled onto his chin. Mel turned away in
disgust.
“Come on, Katie. This guy's
a weirdo.”
Katie didn't move. She
stared at him with a mixture of concern and revulsion. Mel slapped Katie on the
arm.
“Come on, Katie.”
His hands formed claw
shapes, tensing so hard they hurt. He realized he was holding his breath. He
tried to breathe in.
His lungs wouldn't suck.
There was nothing but resistance.
He panicked.
Katie stared at him,
transfixed, as he dropped to his knees. He sucked as hard as he could. His eyes
roamed wildly, desperate for air.
Katie screamed.
His lungs burned.
He was drowning in the air
in front of her.
~ ~ ~
Havoc
noted the readings with satisfaction.
“We're done.”
“You're done, Son.”
“Signals from the surface.
Is that your team?”
Forge laughed.
“My team is a long way
away.”
“What?”
“You’re too trusting, Son.
You always were a day late and a dollar short.”
Havoc reviewed the signals
from the surface.
“What the hell is going on,
Forge?”
Silence.
“Forge?”
Nothing.
~ ~ ~
Tully's lungs were on fire.
He was suffocating on the
playground outside his building. It didn't make any sense. He was desperate to
react, but he couldn't control his body. He sucked at nothing. There was an
immovable wall blocking his chest. His adrenalin surged, making him giddy.
The mammalian parts of his
brain triggered his instinctive drowning response. His head jerked against his
paralysis as his brain tried to lift his face out of the imaginary water. His
arms spasmed, unable to move, as his autonomic nervous system tried to paddle
to raise his head up.
He felt a spear tip thrust
through his chest. The pressure on his breastbone was staggering. Something
reached down his throat and gripped his heart. He couldn't gasp or moan. The
snake encircling his heart squeezed relentlessly tighter. The pressure was
intolerable.
He forgot about his
breathing. His heart was imploding.
His vision blurred as his
lips curled back in an involuntary snarl. His vision darkened from the outside
in, gradually narrowing as his brain screamed for oxygen, until all he could
see was Katie staring down at him, her hand over her mouth, tears streaming
down her cheeks.
She was blonde and
beautiful.
He died on his knees with
his eyes wide open.
~ ~ ~
Katie stared at Tully.
“Come on, Katie! Come on!”
The girls screamed as
Tully's friends, the coffee skinned foreigners, tensed and foamed at the mouth.
The boys collapsed, grinning hideously with their eyes wide open.
Dead.
Katie heard screaming from
the streets around them.
It had barely started.
~ ~ ~
Havoc had a terrible
realization.
Alarms flashed across the
bridge of the Defiance. Bodies lay scattered around him; ship officers
from his own side, dead by his own hand.
Initial reports were coming
from the surface. They sounded genuine. People were dropping in the street,
clutching their throats as they convulsed, kicked and died, while others with
different skin pigmentation watched in shock, horror and impotence. The death
toll was mounting. The feed said thousands of people were already dead. Soon it
would be tens of thousands. The genie was out of the bottle. A genetic weapon.
The lowest, most contemptible form of warfare.
What had he done? He’d
launched the weapons. Hundreds of thousands of people would die. His vision
blurred as his mind retreated, shutting down. It was his fault and there was
nothing he could do to change it.
Bridge instrumentation
showed three incoming ships – suspiciously nearby given their absence an hour
ago. He felt the horrendous vectors of conspiracy and betrayal converging on
him at light speed.
General Claudius Forge was
his idol and his inspiration.
His betrayer.
He caught his reflection in
the instrument panel. With each pass, the red light exposed his true demonic
form.
~ ~ ~
His training got him out.
On the run. Out of the
system, out of that galactic segment and still running. A price on his head.
Constant petty betrayal and backstabbing. The shock he’d felt the first time he
saw his face on a wanted poster.
Despite his desperate
efforts there was no goodbye to his wife and kids or his family and friends.
Most people were ashamed to have known him.
He lost everything.
He associated with scum; the
only people who would associate with him. He realized they looked down on him.
He dreamed about one of the
bridge crew. She begged for her life. He taunted her as she begged for her life
– he congratulated her on how convincing she was. Of course she was convincing.
She looked at him at a loss, not knowing how to communicate with such a
monster. He shot her in the head.
She had been real. It had
all been real.
Forge's set up had been
flawless. The implications were undeniable.
It was genocide. A terrorist
act; committed by a lone assassin with a background in covert operations. The
authorities would expose, eviscerate and execute him – the loner who'd gone
criminally insane.
They would show he had the
training. They would show he had the temperament. That he was perfect.
~ ~ ~
Five months later, Havoc
followed Gillance along the dimly lit passage. The darkness thrown by the
broken spot lights grew continuous as they reached the end of the corridor. At
least it hid the dirt.
Gillance's voice rasped in
the shadows.
“You can stay in here.
Sorry.”
Havoc stepped inside the
dirty little room; a screen, foam padding and a wall stacked with booze. A
shitty corner of a refugio outside a mining installation on a Briarworld. About
as low as it gets.
He eyed the booze.
“You having a party?”
“No. You've had some offers,
five agents. Some good offers, actually.”
“Anything on Forge?”
“Exercises in Stara. Leave
it for now. You look like shit.”
“I feel worse.”
“Frozen for four months.”
Gillance shook his head. “Zaebi knows where they stashed you.”
As illicit cargo, he'd been
reheated inside a nearby meat factory instead of a proper clinic. He felt like
a punch bag force fed rat poison.
“Lucky to be alive, eh?”
Gillance tipped his head
like he wasn't so sure.
“What's wrong, Gill?”
“I need to get something.”
Havoc shrugged and looked
around. Louise would be disgusted. Havoc
pulled out a picture card and balanced it against the screen. He tapped the card and his favorite picture of his
wife and kids appeared. The day was fantastic, the sky clear and blue with the
mountains forming a spectacular backdrop. Louise was in the center and to
either side of his beautiful wife, their skis angled in wide Vs, were Jack and
Jenny. His kids leaned back at such improbable angles that it looked like the
laws of physics had been temporarily suspended. His kids smiled up at their
mum, bent so far back that they could actually see her smiling back at them.
Havoc loved the picture; so happy, carefree and full of love.
He smiled. The place looked
better already. He touched his son's head in the picture.
“Happy birthday, little
guy.”
How many more would he miss?
Gillance appeared at the
door.
“You need to see this.”
Havoc frowned.
“A threat?”
Gillance ignored him as he
activated the screen.
'Vigilante's say they will
not hesitate to dispense justice on John Havoc's family, now the deadline for
him to take their place has passed.'
“Shit! This is now?”
Gillance
paused the feed as he shook his head.
“Two
months after Jemlevi.”
Havoc’s legs failed and he
sat.
“It's bad. The worst.”
He couldn’t believe it.
“It's
done?”
“They
streamed it live.”
Havoc’s
world disintegrated around him.
“It's
here if you want to see it. Or I can tell you. Either way, it's bad.” Gillance
looked at the crates of booze. “You want to watch?”
He
nodded dumbly, still crumbling. Gillance left.
He
was alone with the bright white screen. It was a doorway to hell.
He
stepped through it.
On
the news reports, the vigilantes had given him five days to give himself up
after his family's abduction. He would have done it, if he hadn’t been
illegally stowed in a merchant cruiser, frozen in a nitrogen compound block.
After the deadline expired, the vigilantes held a mock trial. His family
huddled together looking frightened. Guilty on all charges. They announced the
punishment. Louise screamed and his kids cried in confusion as they were
dragged away.
They
gave his family to eight Vexmeth addicts. People who would do anything for a
fix. They deprived the addicts of their drugs then unleashed them on his
family, providing them with more drugs when they considered enough pain had
been inflicted. This not only allowed the vigilantes to deny, in their own minds, the horror of their
crimes, but also handed the torture of his family to the most depraved minds
imaginable.
The
vigilantes used sophisticated medical care to prolong his family's lives. They
kept Jack alive for sixteen hours and eleven minutes. Jenny lasted three hours
and twenty seven minutes longer before permanently losing consciousness.
Louise, on the other hand, they managed to keep alive for forty two hours.
Given what they did to her, it was quite a feat.
Havoc
watched the vigilantes' stream, gnawing his hand until it bled. He didn't let
himself get drunk or look away. He made himself live every minute. Every long,
unending, infinite minute. After all, his family had. As he watched, the names
of the three hundred and six thousand, four hundred and sixty one people from
Jemlevi that he'd murdered scrolled along the bottom of the screen.
For
forty two hours, Louise – his lover, his confidante and his best friend – was
tortured, degraded and ultimately killed after being forced to watch the same
thing happen to her children.
It
took nearly four days to watch it all. First he died in inches, then yards,
then leagues. He sobbed and denied and roared and pleaded and learned that you
didn't need to die to go to hell. His face hardened into a distorted mask.
Louise screamed for him, over and over, as her humanity was stripped away. But
he wasn't there. He had run while his family had stayed and they'd paid for his
crime. It wasn't fair. But nothing was fair.
Nothing was fair.
His
soul flickered and died in the neon glare.
His
guilt was all consuming. His nights were ravaged by nightmares. The images cut
his mind. His family begged to die, offering anything to escape that hell. But
there had been no escape, except death.
General
Claudius Forge was featured prominently in the news coverage of his family's
abduction. Forge deplored what had happened, whilst subtly hinting that the
vigilantes' reaction was understandable. Forge shook his head at what his
former subordinate, John Havoc, had done, inexplicably, and how these
vigilantes had reacted, barbarically, in return.
If
blood could boil, Havoc’s would have burned a hole in the world.
The
only thing left in his hollowed out existence was retribution. He didn't see it
as revenge, he saw it as justice. He was going to settle a score on a cosmic
scale. The annihilation of Forge, his former hero. Forge was going to die and
he was going to burn in hell.
He had the training. He had
the temperament. Perfect.
Reflection
The
valley was idyllic. The lake stretched away before them, the small island near
its center abundant with plant life. The forest surrounding the lake came down
almost to the water's edge, shades of green streaked with golds and browns; a
multitude of deciduous trees on the autumnal turn. On the far side of the
valley, the ground steepened as it rose higher and the ridge on the skyline was
dusted with snow. The sun glanced over the ridgeline and the lake glittered
with refracted light. The early morning air was crisp and cool with a light
breeze pushing small ripples across the surface of the water.
Havoc
loved the taste and smell of the cool air, laced as it was with the scents of
the lake and the forest. He loved to breathe it in and feel it reinvigorate and
calm him at the same time. He would have taken a deep breath right now,
savoring it, had not even gentle breathing created pressures that made his
bodily fluids rise up and gush out of the wounds in his chest and stomach. He
watched the rivulets wend their way down the front of his suit, splitting and
thinning before finally trickling into the lake. It was, he thought,
unfortunate.
His relaxed attitude could,
at least in part, be attributed to his stoical nature. He would attribute it
more to the medically inadvisable amount of hytelline he’d already vened just to function enough to get them here. He only had three
shots left.
He could feel the pain
beginning to break through, nebulous forms probing at the edge of his
awareness. He was going to need another shot and soon. Drugs were usually the
difference between a good death and a terrible one. He'd seen it enough times
to know.
He
looked at the Professor lying next to him. They were both slumped against a
smooth rock on the edge of the lake, lying in a shallow pool of what had been
clear lake water but was now slowly discoloring, at least around him. He had
dragged them here a few minutes ago, after they had so rudely interrupted the
local wildlife by crashing near the island.
“How are you, Professor?”
“I feel alright, thank you.
Surprisingly warm actually.”
“Hmm.”
“I could do with resting for
a few more minutes though, if you don't mind.”
“Sure.”
They
looked out across the lake. The flames from the crashes were flickering out;
even the one in the forest was dying away. Chemicals glistened on the surface
of the water around the three wrecks in the lake. Birds returned to the island,
some easily picked out against the fresh avenue of flattened trees and churned
earth on the far side of the valley. Only two bodies still floated at their end
of the lake. Havoc thought they must have some kind of buoyancy pack for
medical recovery. Bit late for that.
“That looks very painful,”
the Professor said.
Havoc
frowned at his left leg. It was snapped at the knee and bent in the wrong
direction, rising out of the water with his foot facing him like a grotesque
puppet. Below the surface, splintered bones and torn ligaments interleaved and
twisted back on themselves.
“It's ok, thanks.”
“I didn't get the chance to
thank you.”
Havoc made a faint gesture
with his hand.
“No need to thank me. I
should really apologize.”
“That might be the most
impressive thing I've ever seen.”
“Thanks.”
The
Professor was silent as the question hung unasked.
“They should be here,
Professor, they definitely will be. It’s just a delay. It won’t be long.”
Best
case, he thought.
“I see.”
A
little time passed. Havoc’s pain built steadily, advancing past his outer
defenses and pressing in on him. Broken ribs down his back, crush injuries on
his internal organs, two high velocity rounds that had passed right through
him. It hurt to breathe. He tried not to.
They
lay quietly, the water gently lapping against them.
“My
hands feel very warm now. And my back.” The Professor paused. “Please be honest
with me.”
The
question hung in the air for a while.
“With the discoloration on
your hands starting, you've got maybe twenty minutes.”
The
Professor looked down at his hands, surprised. A darkening purple hue spread
from his wrists onto his palms.
“Gosh. I hadn't noticed.”
The
Professor turned to him, looking into his remaining eye. He'd had the
forethought to drop the Professor on the side he could still see out of. He
felt thick liquid oozing out of his left eye socket. The burns down that side
of his head gave his skin a peculiar sensitivity to the air.
The
Professor pursed his lips.
“Is there anything I can do
for you...? I mean...”
“No. Thanks, Professor.”
The
Professor glanced down at himself.
“I'm scared about how much
it will hurt.”
Havoc thought the Professor
sounded a little ashamed of himself. He shouldn’t be. Now that his hands had
started to discolor, the pain would increase quickly. They designed it that
way. The Professor was right to be worried – he would never have known pain
like it. Sweat had already broken out on the Professor’s forehead.
“I wonder why the pain? It
seems so unnecessary and cruel.”
Havoc reached over and
tapped his finger onto the Professor's wrist, injecting two shots of hytelline.
“If you're hiding, you
reveal your position. This will help. Don't worry, Professor. There won't be
any pain.”
“Thank you.”
One
shot left.
A
large bird, perhaps a heron, cruised gracefully over the water with a fish in
its slender beak. It threw forward its wings as it stalled and landed on the
island, scattering a few smaller birds. The Professor relaxed his head back as
the hytelline took effect, enveloping him
like a sheet of damp muslin and cooling the burning that covered his body.
“It's beautiful here. So
beautiful.”
Havoc looked out.
“Yes, it is.”
“I mean, if you could choose
a place.”
“Don't give up on me,
Professor. They'll be here.”
“I never asked your name. I
mean, if you don't mind.”
“Havoc, John Havoc. Pleased
to meet you, Professor. And sorry to get you into this mess.”
“Do you know why they, you
know...? Just a crackpot Professor?”
He genuinely didn’t know.
“I’ve no idea.”
More
silence passed comfortably between them. One man succumbing to poison, the
other bleeding out.
“So why do you do it, I
mean, risk yourself like that?”
Havoc
paused. A difficult question to answer to a dying man, while he was dying
himself. Not a lot of room for bullshit there. The truth felt a little grubby –
not meaningful enough. He turned the answer over in his mind.
Money,
Professor, I did it to pay off my debt. I didn't have a choice. Well, I could
have died instead, of course. Instead? He looked down at himself and laughed.
It hurt like hell. Only one shot left. It was too soon. He felt his mind
dislocating as the pain washed over him in waves. He savored the tiny gaps
between breathing. He was mildly hallucinating now, drifting a little. He knew
a lot about pain, more than anyone in their right mind would want to know. He
knew about pain management. Concentration was the key, while you had the mental
resources to do it. He focused.
“Making a living, Professor,
I suppose.”
“It's an honorable thing to
do.”
“Nothing honorable about
what I do, Professor.”
“Oh, I thought you were...”
“No. Paid help. That's all.”
The
sparkles on the surface turned to a golden glow as the sun rose higher,
approaching them across the water. Small birds hopped along the waters edge,
calling out to each other. The smoke trails rising from the wreckage thinned
out to almost nothing. The Professor's eyes de-focused as the hytelline worked
directly on his central nervous system, softening everything.
“Do you have anyone?”
“No. No one.”
“I'm sorry, John.”
Havoc
felt strange being called by his first name.
“You, Professor?”
“I’ve been very lucky, John.
A life full of love. I met a wonderful woman and she said yes.”
Havoc
smiled.
“Kids?”
“We had a daughter. A
beautiful, wonderful daughter.”
“Had?”
The Professor shook his head
but didn’t answer.
Havoc grimaced.
“I'm sorry.”
The
Professor paused, looking forlorn. Havoc had been in this position too many
times to count, talking to the dying, just not usually dying himself. There was
more coming and not a lot of time to tell it. Sad stories, regrets, all of the
things you would have done differently, if only you’d known. And absolutely no
time for bullshit, lies or self-deception.
“I fell out with my
daughter.”
Havoc
nodded, splitting his precious concentration between listening and managing his
pain.
“We haven't spoken for
nearly seven years. A silly argument about her mother. I said so many stupid
things.”
Havoc listened as tears
trickled down the Professor's cheeks.
“I miss her.” The
Professor's voice cracked. “I miss her so much.”
The Professor swallowed and blinked his
eyes clear. He looked over the lake and into the past.
“She was like her mother –
strong, beautiful, so clever.”
Liquid
dribbled out of Havoc's mouth and he coughed. Excruciating pain shot through
him. He coughed again and the pain ripped a short cry from him. He felt like
someone had a crowbar inside him, levering it against his organs until they
ruptured. He tried to swallow the liquid coming up in tiny sips to stop himself
from coughing again. He got it back under control.
“I'm sure she loves you.”
“We went on holidays when
she was young. She was so bright. Brave, headstrong, she knew all the answers.”
“What would you say to her,
if you could?”
“Other than I love her, I'd say don't spend your whole
life regretting what you could have done but didn't. Just do it.”
Havoc nodded.
The
Professor glanced at him.
“You don't have anybody?”
“Not any more.”
“Everybody has somebody, surely?”
“I wanted to kill someone.”
“Oh.” The Professor
paused, trying to come to terms with such a bizarre concept. “You can't live
your life that way, can you?”
“Your life had love,
Professor. Not everybody has that.”
“You hate this person?”
Havoc
laughed. It was agony.
“Was it worth it?” the
Professor said.
“It's all I had left.”
“Who was this person?”
Havoc
paused. What did it matter now?
“Forge, Claudius Forge.”
“The General?”
“That's right. General
Claudius Forge.”
“Didn't he...?”
Havoc nodded.
“Four years ago, after his
coup failed.”
“But you don't believe he
really died?”
“Not a chance.”
“So what would you do? If he
was dead?”
“I’d die a contented man.”
“Ah.”
They
continued to lie together. Birds flew overhead and strutted up and down the
shore. A solid block of sunlight advanced most of the way toward them. It
neared their feet, promising warmth.
Havoc
coughed something up. Lung? He felt like he was being tortured. His mental
resources were depleting. One shot left. Not yet. Soon though.
The
Professor turned to him. Havoc could see the pain creeping back in to him. He
could see it in his eyes.
“It hurts, John. The pain.
It's bad. I'm sorry.”
They
looked at each other.
The Professor's
voice sounded strained as he tried to keep it level.
“Do you have any more? I
mean, spare?”
Fuck
you, Havoc thought, fuck you. He was only human, after all. So much pain, one
shot, two addicts. The difference between a good death and a terrible one. But
the response of his value system, beneath his surface reaction, was axiomatic.
You don't make a dying man beg for drugs. He reached abruptly for the
Professor's hand.
“Here you go, Professor.”
“Thank you, John. Thank
you.”
Two
ducks floated past, quacking at each other comically. The Professor groaned.
The poison induced pain was terrible at the end. Without the hytelline the Professor would have
screamed himself hoarse.
The
shot took effect and blurred things even more for him. It would be pretty dark
in there now.
“I'm scared, John.”
“It's ok.”
“I never thought...”
“I know.”
He reached and took the
Professors hand in his own. He squeezed to communicate his presence and the
Professor squeezed weakly back. The Professor's skin was dark now, his face and
hands a purplish black as his prisoner implant killed him. The damn pickup was
late, probably wasn't coming. They were dying. And that bastard was still
alive, Havoc was sure of it.
The sun reached them across
the water. They were bathed in morning light, soaking in the warmth as they
slumped on their rock together. The lake glowed as the water lapped gently
against them. The light breeze was fresh and pure.
The
Professors eyes opened suddenly.
“John
Havoc? The John Havoc? From Jemlevi?”
“Yes.”
“Gosh.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you really...”
The Professor stopped as he
realized what he was about to ask.
“Kill all those people,
Professor?”
“Well. Yes.”
Havoc
ignored the question. It was meaningless to him now, eleven years later. He
knew the futility of explanation. People are judges, it's hard wired. And some
questions don't have a yes or no answer.
The
Professor’s voice was gentle.
“I will believe you, John.”
The Professor sounded as
though he’d decided the answer – he knew that Havoc was a good man and simply
awaited the confirmation.
Havoc
twisted his head and stared at the Professor with his single eye.
“Yes, Professor, I did.”
It felt good to come out and
say it, unqualified, without trying to explain. The Professor took some time to process this
unexpected response. Or maybe he just didn't have an answer.
“This General was involved?”
Havoc
grunted assent as the Professor relaxed back, drained. Havoc tried to clear his
throat to avoid coughing. The Professor sighed.
“What does it mean, John,
this revenge?”
“Killing your demons,
Professor.”
“Hasn't there been enough
killing?”
An
obvious reference to the genocidal war crime in question. Havoc gritted his
teeth. But the old man wasn’t judging. He sounded genuine.
“Nearly.”
“Does it help?”
“Yes.”
An
honest answer.
“Revenge is a confession of
pain.”
Havoc
thought about it.
“True.”
The
Professor's hand relaxed in his.
“Such a waste.”
The
Professor's voice was quieter now – he was letting go of life. Havoc didn’t
want him to go out thinking about genocide.
“What was your daughter's
name, Professor?”
“Evie.”
“Tell me about her.”
The
Professor's eyes were almost closed.
“We did proofs together. We
went walking together.”
“Go on.”
“She always wanted a dog, a
golden lab.”
Havoc
waited. The Professor's voice was little more than a whisper now.
“Tell my daughter I love
her.”
“I will.”
“I don't want to die, John.”
Havoc
squeezed the Professor's hand.
“Don't worry. I'm here.”
There
was silence. A minute passed. Some incoherent muttering emerged from the
Professor, then his voice strengthened a little.
“Come on, Evie, let's go for
a walk.”
Havoc
waited.
“Bring your gloves, darling,
you’ll be cold.”
Havoc
held the Professor's hand, letting it happen.
“I love you honey.”
Havoc
squeezed the Professor's hand.
“She loves you too.”
The
Professor's eyes opened at the stimulus.
“It's beautiful here.”
Havoc
looked up the valley.
“Yes, it is. It is
beautiful.”
The
Professor's hand gently released in his.
He
was dead.
Havoc
was surprised by how upset he felt. Exposed and vulnerable. When was the last
time he’d spoken to someone who wasn’t out to take him for all they could get?
He hoped the Professor had felt comfortable, and comforted, at the end.
One
of them down. One to go.
He
was in agony, streaks of pain like molten wires piercing his body. He
concentrated on managing his pain. He knew what was coming. A terrible death.
He grunted involuntarily; a tough man not used to showing weakness. Fleeting
thoughts flickered through his mind.
Live a life based on love.
Unbearable pain ravaged him
like a drill thrust in a broken tooth. So much hurt. He lay there, panting, his breathing fast and shallow.
It hurt so much to breathe but the coughing was worse. Hallucinating. What does it all mean? Revenge. All or nothing.
All for
nothing.
Utterly
betrayed. Forge's face right in his own and full of his macho bullshit.
'Conflict makes men, Son', 'Never fight fair with a stranger, Son.' Havoc felt
his frustration rise up and choke him. 'Better to be foul and conquer, Son,
than to be fair and fail.'
He
was racked by coughing. He spasmed in torment like a broken animal in a trap.
He wasn't complaining – that wasn't his way – he just couldn't stand the pain;
it was intolerable.
You're going to get out of
this, he
told himself, trying to focus. You're not
finished. He didn’t believe it, not for a second. So unlike him.
Don’t you give up on me,
Havoc. Don’t you give up on me.
So
much hurt, everywhere. No escape and no respite. He couldn't cough up enough
liquid to clear his throat and it filled again, choking him and causing him to
cough more. He knew the moment of greatest resistance comes just before
capitulation, so where was it, his resistance?
He
had nothing left to give.
He
felt cold inside, despite the warmth of the sun on his body. He wasn't getting
enough oxygen; his blood pressure dropping as he exsanguinated, his bodily
fluids leaking into, and out of, all the wrong places. His head slumped forward
and liquid dribbled out of his mouth.
Fragmented
images of his wife and kids flickered on the water as his agony receded. He
felt numb. He welcomed it. His awareness narrowed. The Professor’s hand in his.
Love. Hate. His world darkened and then faded.
He
slipped away.
~ ~ ~
The
water lapped quietly on the shore of the lake, the tree branches hardly moving
in the light breeze. The heron lifted off the island, circled for height and
then glided across the valley. The area of dark water around the two men
expanded but only slowly, the movement of the water barely enough for it to
spread.
~ ~ ~
Thrumming
beats came in overhead, getting louder, followed by a burst of sustained noise.
Spray whipped up around a circular depression on the water, the transport
pushing out a standing wave as it hovered like a giant dragonfly. The operator leaned out of the side door on a cable. She took in the wreckage,
the downed vehicles and the craters along the shoreline.
“Foxtrot
Hotel.”
She swung free and lowered
down. Two bodies. One blackened and one broken. She dropped lower.
The extraction target's head
was tilted back with his face discolored and his skin ravaged by poison.
Havoc's body was missing a section of skull
with terrible burns down one side of his face and neck, two kinetic wounds to
his abdomen and his left leg rearing out of the water at a sickening angle.
The corpses were lying next to each other, holding hands on a smooth
stone that resembled a giant pebble in the water.
“They're gone.”
*** Thanks for reading the preview, I hope you
enjoyed it. If you want to read the full story please buy the ebook or
paperback from Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk. ***
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