Sci-Fi Fantasy Collection (A Citizen Tale Books 1 & 2) Page 7

  Onas cleared his throat. ‘You can’t have joined. I would have been informed.’

  ‘Because you have the original list?’ He nodded. ‘Yes, Zatar told me. You can verify it for yourself.’

  Onas sunk into this chair. ‘Have you told Nythlia about this?’

  Skelos shrugged. Onas’s question confirmed Nythlia knew nothing about the Index. It gave him some small relief. ‘I don’t trust her, but I trust you. We have the same ambition, the same drive, and the same amount to lose.’ The remark was flippant. He had no inkling of what Onas held most dear or the risks he was willing to take assume power.

  Onas waved his hand. ‘Take off your clothes.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ This is a risk too far, even for me.

  ‘Somehow you managed to get past my sentinel guards, I need to see you have no devices or weapons on you.’ He directed Skelos to a changing screen. A sentinel guard stood beside it.

  Skelos went behind the screen and removed all his clothes. He soon emerged from behind it dressed only in his underwear.

  He winced as the sentinel guard patted him down with its cold metallic hands.

  ‘He is clean,’ said the sentinel in a resonance of an echo.

  It returned to its place by the changing screen.

  Onas removed a disc from a flap on his wrist device. He twisted the disc to unlock it. He then placed it on the table. A hologram screen sprung from it. It hovered above his desk. The names were listed in three columns. Onas found Skelos’s name midway down the list, beside his mother’s.

  ‘You were once a close friend of Eron’s. It was the only reason why you were not considered. Some thought you might attempt to avenge his death.’ He snorted. ‘I was sceptical about that myself. I don’t think former friends count, do you? What was it you fell out over? A girl, finance, business?’

  ‘He didn’t support my work – my research.’ Skelos was too young to have conducted any research and the admission made no sense whatsoever to a Citizen like Onas. He and Eron had fallen out because of what Skelos had done in the Red Caves as a child. Skelos had kept both Osaphar and Eron at a distance after that and they had done the same. Immediately after the event, he was ashamed at what he had done in his childish naivety. He later came to justify his actions. It was not an atrocity if the child was an Outsider. Despite the humanoid form they took, they were diseased beasts.

  ‘I want to show you what we’ve done to some of your cyborgs.’

  A door opened at the far side of the room and two figures strode in: one male, one female. They were dressed in the same dark tunics and trousers. Skelos knew they were machines. They were stiff and their purple eyes were lifeless. They had been fitted with artificial faces that looked like masks. Skelos was not impressed. They were nothing more than fancy looking cyborgs.

  ‘We’ve built in more weaponry. They’re just prototypes. They will eventually become droids that will look and move like humanoids.’

  Skelos was unconvinced. He had never come across a droid who could past for human. ‘Who’s we?’

  ‘I’m in the process of opening up my own cybernetic research facility.’

  Skelos nodded. Now it made sense. ‘In my former Stores, I presume.’ He suspected Nythlia was behind Onas’s cybernetic ascendency. The Citizen held no doctorate. He guessed he had not only secured his Stores but his staff as well. He wondered if Denlor was on his payroll. Onas would have also asked his son, Imbrecas, to steal vital information about his work so he could replicate it. With his limited attention span, the boy couldn’t possibly have succeeded. ‘And the Establishment have approved it?’

  ‘Not yet, but they will.’ He gave the cyborgs an appraising glance. ‘These two will never be seen by the Establishment. They are our Index Eleven assassin cyborgs, and they answer to my command alone.’ He grinned slyly.

  Skelos focused on the hologram. He closed his eyes and raised his hands momentarily to force his gift to the forefront of his mind and put it to work.

  The names on the list disappeared one by one as he sent them through to the Parliamentary suite where the vice-chancellor, Darlis Sajoyagh, sat in a meeting with several other prominent members of the Establishment.

  Onas’s mouth gaped open. He stared through the hologram and met Skelos’s eyes. He snatched the disc from the table, shifting the screen. He attempted to snap the disc shut. With trembling hands, he twisted it clockwise and anti-clockwise. He banged it on the desk. The names continued to evaporate. ‘You!’ he roared. He lurched from his chair. ‘How are you doing this?’

  ‘It has nothing to do with me.’ Skelos raised his hands. Only two names remained on the list: his mother’s and his own. ‘It must be a virus.’

  While Onas continued to fuss over the vanishing files, Skelos moved the female cyborg into position. He directed it with his hands and his mind. Before Onas could react, it detached Onas’s head from his body. It then fired at Onas’s head until it became a fireball. A shrill alarm sounded, followed by another that sounded like a failing buzzer.

  Skelos instructed the cyborgs to destroy the surveillance databanks. He gathered his clothes from behind the screen and swept from the room. He heard the first Citizens running behind him. He passed two sentinel guards on his way out. None of them would verify that he was ever there. The only Citizen who witnessed him come into the room was Nythlia and if she took him down, she would take herself down with him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Skelos sat in the Gold Suite. Nythlia had used it to entertain political dignitaries on the rare occasions they had come to their home. He was never present at these gatherings. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in the Gold Suite. Once, perhaps, a decade ago. And Nythlia had not made him feel welcome.

  He sipped from a glass, topped to the brim with Zaskian. The events of the past three weeks had left him drained. He had made sacrifices, and they had cost him. A number of major shareholders had pulled out of Dorm Presteria Energy. These prominent figures had helped bring acclaim to the Dorm industry. They felt that the House of Dorm was on the wane and was more a source of embarrassment than influence.

  His mother was so angered over the list’s dissolution; she had cut all ties with him. Skelos felt no remorse for what he had done. He had grown fed up with his mother’s griping.

  She should have been nothing but grateful in his opinion. He had saved them from a fate worse than death. She didn’t seem to comprehend that their lives were in danger by virtue of the fact that her name had been on the list in the first place.

  Skelos began to care less about the family name and more about his own. Surely that’s all that matters now? His hopes of making recompense were crippled. He had gained a reputation as an unethical scientist. As a result, his fellow Citizens were less keen to open up their research facilities to him. Denlor was the only one of his staff to remain in contact with him. His last faithful confidante.

  The destruction of the list had caused a brief ripple among the Establishment. Some of its members had resigned; others had mysteriously vanished. Vacant posts were quickly filled without scandal or skirmish.

  Onas’s death was believed to be caused by a batch of malfunctioning cyborgs, which Nythlia had corroborated. Skelos knew she wanted to remove herself from any scandal linked to Index Eleven, and thus to Onas. It was the only way she could protect her career.

  Denlor had informed him that Nythlia had not attended Onas’s funeral, but he had seen her walking with Imbrecas, a protective arm around his shoulder. No doubt offering him comfort following the tragic death of his father.

  A cyborg showed Osaphar through to the Gold Suite. Skelos had been expecting him. He had been dreading his visit. He had not told his former friend how he joined Index Eleven, the contents of the list or if he had destroyed it. He hoped he wouldn’t ask.

  ‘I don’t know how you were able to do it,’ said Osaphar as he breezed through the door, ‘but thank the Maker you did. I assume Onas was involved. I take it you were
responsible for his death?’

  ‘In self-defence,’ said Skelos, not bothering to deny it. ‘He possessed the original list. He was going to turn one of his cyborg assassins on me.’

  ‘You should have left it to the Establishment to punish him.’

  ‘It’s that all you can say, after all I have accomplished?’ You’re no more grateful than my mother. ‘He was building cyborg assassins. He slept with my wife.’

  Osaphar was silent for a time. ‘So you killed him out of jealousy,’ he finally said.

  Skelos bristled. ‘Stop pretending you’re Eron. You’re nothing like him. You act like you have morals. You would have done the same. I don’t want you to speak of my past demeanours ever again. I cannot rewrite history. I’ve lost my family to avenge Eron’s death. You were the one who coaxed me into it. And what have I gained?’ He spread his hands. ‘The right to sit in the Gold Suite.’

  ‘You’re right, I’m not Eron, but don’t try to hold me responsible for what you have done. I don’t think with your particular talents it would have been too hard to get your hands on that list or to destroy it.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Osaphar took a ragged breath. ‘That I commend you. I assume you didn’t keep a record of the list.’

  ‘I kept no record of it. Will you stay and have a drink?’

  ‘No. I think we’re done. I thank you for your assistance.’

  Osaphar walked from the suite.

  It seems he does did not want to renew our friendship after all.

  Skelos smashed his glass of Zaskian on the gold tiles and then stormed out, vowing to have the suite redecorated in blue by the end of the week.

  He took the lift to the basement. He had converted into a laboratory. It wasn’t the ideal place to carry out experiments. He hoped one day to find a permanent space. His specimen lay on a makeshift table top. It was about time he created something new, a cybernetic-enhanced human to rival Orel. One who was loyal and obedient, whom he could trust, and who would never leave his side. And why not? You should never put your trust in one Citizen. His father had taught him that before disappearing from his life. He didn’t want to make another Tabiatha. She was too extreme. He wanted something subtler. And there would be no mistakes. No prototypes. Only success. A steady hand and a little addition here and there, I think. He took a breath, picked up a scalpel, and cut into Amelia’s brain.

  Skelos Dorm’s adventures continue in The Red Caves.

  Copyright © 2016 S.K. Holder

  All Rights Reserved

  Published by Rogghorn Press

  ISBN-13: 9780993293733

  Cover art by DaCostaArtDesign.com Copyright © 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  www.rogghornpress.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 1

  Six years have passed since Skelos’s first experiments, all tried and tested, failed before the Pareus Scientific Research and Funding Division (P.S.R.F.), in a demonstration that left his subject brain dead. The P.S.R.F. has withdrawn his funding. The Planetary Protection Committee has confiscated the majority of his research, the Parliamentary Elite has frozen his assets, and he has lost his credibility as a scientist.

  The Red Caves was the last place on the planet of Odisiris where the Establishment would find him. The caves no longer held the allure of mystery that had attracted him in his youth. The young Citizens[2] of the modern age were not interested in Outsiders. Their veil of mystery was broken when one was captured and brought to the city of Pareus and paraded in a cage for all of Odisiris to see. The ill-fated Outsider had carried a pox-like disease. Now this race of sub-humans was seen as a scourge that required extermination; it had taken place to some extent. The Odisirian government had sent a team of Eradicators to the Red Caves. They had released a poison into the tunnels to kill all living things that dwelt there, and they had erected an electromagnet barrier to keep them from escaping. Still some survived. The caves and tunnels went deep. There were many exits and entrances the Citizens knew nothing about.

  The barrier was not a deterrent for Skelos Dorm. He knew how to disable it and once he had brought it down, he waited. Waited for the fear to ebb away. He let the red dust settle on his skin. He gasped and shuddered. He sucked air through his nostrils and shuddered again. There was nothing to fear. I’m all alone. My race has abandoned me.

  ‘Are we here now?’ said Amelia.

  So he wasn’t entirely alone. He had his niece, Amelia. The little girl accompanied him everywhere. He took her hand. He did not want her to see his fear. She would not understand it. She was covered from head to foot in the red grime. He had heard a myth that Outsiders blood made the dust red. He knew this not to be true. But the dust repulsed him all the same. It reminded him of another little girl. ‘We most certainly are.’

  They went through the squat cave entrance. Skelos had not forgotten it. The structure had not changed, nor had his memory. He had not forgotten the little girl he had killed as a child. The girl was not much older than Amelia. He could still see her red dust-caked tears, the hole he had blasted in her shoulder, and the red blood.

  A minute flare drone led the way, drifting through the succession of tunnels that connected the caves. Skelos hoped the child’s remains were buried under a pile of rock and dust. His heart pounded. He steamed along, gazing ahead, afraid the memories would fester in his brain if he were to stop. The tunnel was more cramped now that he was taller and a lot larger around the waist. The fear and exhilaration he felt in equal measures when he had entered the Red Caves more than thirty years ago were no longer there.

  This was a necessity. A desperate necessity.

  ‘You’re walking too fast, Uncle,’ said the little girl, skipping to keep up with him.

  ‘It’s not that I am walking too fast,’ he said, picking up his pace, ‘it is you who are walking too slowly.’

  ‘We shouldn’t have to walk at all,’ she said, trying to tug her hand free from his.

  Skelos ignored her. The girl was spoilt. Spoilt to the core. His brother and sister-in-law had given her everything she had ever wanted, and he had picked up where they left off.

  After walking a considerable distance, with Amelia whinging in his ear, Skelos discovered the cave suited his needs.

  The bronze cave walls were smothered in red dust. The ground was heaped with mounds of rubble. There were cracks in the ground, through which another hovel was visible. The cave was neither too hot nor too cold, too large or too small. There were plenty of recesses and ridges set in the cave walls where he could store his utensils.

  He came across an anti-chamber, laden with junk, at the far end of the cave. He thought it was spoils the Outsiders had stolen from Citizen dwellings.

  After a swift inspection, he found this not to be the case. Some of the artefacts were unrecognisable in his eyes: archaic, humanoid-made, smelly, and mouldy. He had no plans to clear it when there was plenty of space in the chief cavity.

  The smell of mould he could take. Not the dust. There was too much of it. He imagined himself ingesting it and spewing vile red
blood.

  Amelia squirmed. She shook the skirt of her dress. ‘I don’t like it, Uncle. It’s dirty.’

  ‘Yes, very.’

  ‘But who’s going to clean it, Uncle? We don’t have any droids.’

  ‘We’re going to clean it.’

  Amelia’s mouth formed an O-shape. ‘We?’

  ‘Yes, we. We might as well get it out of the way since we’re here. It shan’t take long. You will use rags and water to get some of the dust off these walls, and you can use this,’ he kicked at a rudimentary tool: a wooden pole with a brush attached to the end of it, ‘on the floors. I will clear the rubble by hand.’

  The little girl pouted. ‘But my dress will get ruined.’

  ‘Most likely, but you’ve plenty more dresses.’

  ‘This is my best one. I’m not a cleaner. Mummy said I’m too pretty and delicate for manual labour. And this is a cave. Isn’t it supposed to be dirty?’

  Skelos held up his hand to silence her. ‘If I say you’ll clean, you’ll clean. If you want to act as my assistant then you will, at times, be required to do jobs below your status. Do you understand?’

  The little girl bowed her head. ‘Yes, Uncle.’

  By the time Amelia had finished, her dress was filthy and torn. Despite her grumbling, she had done a good job. Skelos had pushed most of the rubble out of the cave and into the adjoining tunnels.

  Exhausted, they returned to Pareus city.

  Skelos was satisfied he could continue his work without the Establishment on his back, or any of the others who conspired against him and had relished in his downfall. And he knew there were many.