The lights in Nicolas’s office turned off. Leesa apologized and leaned up from the sensor switch. But it wasn’t only lights. Florence checked her tablet and Cynque watch, both were offline.
“Well, this is unexpected.” Rabia frowned.
Florence sensed anger rising to uncontrollable levels, accompanied by short breaths. Nicolas stormed out and she followed. “General Delemar, calm down, we can handle this. Check the control room, perhaps they’re in better shape.”
“I’ll go prepare for our exit. Do you know which jets are ready to go?” Leesa asked Rabia.
Engineers and technicians argued back and forth across the control room in a panic, figuring out which servers they still commanded, if rewriting the code was worth it and finding the source computer responsible for invading. Like a rowdy classroom when the teacher enters, a hush settled.
“How did he get through?” The general asked with an outside voice.
“I don’t know, sir,” someone answered. “Our primary and secondary channels are overridden, I can’t get anything online.”
“Can you at least trace it?” Florence asked, with a careful eye on her “superior.” He huddled in the corner clutching his chest.
“We’re on a remote server trying to pinpoint the location of the intrusion and its source.” They typed frantically on their computers. “Hopefully, we can build a separate system to get us online in time.” Not a bold-faced lie but the odds were slim.
“Fix It!” Nicolas screamed.
Allister lifted his head from the icy floor. Uninterrupted silence replaced the usual hum of the base. At subsonic speed he moved in front of the entrance. Pluck. The metal lining the inside of the vault pinged but there was no kinetic backlash. He wound up one good time with both hands and smashed them into the bolted door with all of his strength. Two more hits and the lock mechanism snapped off, he shoved it open. Three soldiers guarding the vault huddled together with their weapons aimed toward the dark open hole. He thumbed the piece of paper Florence left on the floor. 30.5085° N, 47.7804° E were the coordinates. A burst of wind blew them apart and the blur continued around the corner.
ALLISTER ADAMS
Washington, DC, April 2026
Two soldiers patrolling the basement turned around to find the commotion. Allister skidded to a stop and scrambled backwards between two partitions. “Hey, come on man, we’re almost off.” The other less interested soldier gestured.
Allister stepped out from his hiding spot as they went around the corner. Flattened back against the wall, he slid to the secret prison entrance with his knees bent, ready to take off running at the faintest sound. He took his fingers to the edge of the door and tugged in the opposite direction. It didn’t budge. Planting his feet against the floor he pulled again, as he was about to give up the door gave the slightest bit, moving against the strong hydraulic system behind it. He fit his hand through and then pushed more, using his back for leverage. It slammed shut, nearly severing him in half. Allister slowed to a stop in front of Neight’s prison.
The fallen king sat cross-legged in the dark inside of his cell. “You escaped, very good.” Neight said. Seemingly unrelated, the story of his resurrection after incineration came next. “I never quite recovered…from the war I lost. There hasn’t been…time…for me to…regain my full strength. And with numerous…setbacks…” He sighed. The prison mocked him, but after many years of rest he cycled into a stronger state of being. “Regeneration is my greatest asset. I will always ‘be,’ my gift to you…was a lesser version…of that.”
It solidified the directors’ greatest fear: functional immortality. Neight wasn’t destroyed by the thing he deemed the most powerful force he’d ever known, and Allister struck a similar nerve.
“You would not be able to wield the energy without it,” the alien finished.
“Will I have it forever?”
Neight stared into the boy’s curious face. This was why humans lied. They lacked purified logic. “No. It will exhaust itself…eventually. But use them both while you can…”
Allister wasn’t upset by the answer; living another one hundred to one hundred and fifty years was hardly fathomable for a twenty-year-old kid. “Why haven’t you escaped? The whole base is shut down,” he asked, knowing the answer. There was nowhere for Neight to go, nowhere on Earth. Their gaze mirrored the one from the power plant in Cumberland Falls; there had been a great sacrifice that night and unknowingly, Allister obliged to return the favor. “I’ll help you get your gems if you get me off this base so I can save my mom.”
Neight’s clawed hands retreated into himself. “There is a ship in hangar 11, a restored one from my planet, it has not been flown in half a century but if anyone can do it, it is you.” The claws shifted into fingers and pressed together to the ceiling. Neight mumbled a few unclear words, closed his eyes, and repeated them. His hands extended to the side.
“Start the ancient engine U, destiny fulfilled as promised to. And all things that have contact with this. Shall bow to the needs that are his.”
A clear energy ball floated through the cell wall with ease. Neight waved his hand and it zoomed off, darting to the room’s entrance. Allister thanked him before following swiftly after it. The ball didn’t diminish speed zooming through the large prison door, it activated in enough time for him to slide through without losing sight of the guide. Allister ducked and dodged, moving rapidly after the energy through open air and hallways. His path went from pitch black to partially illuminated in a matter of seconds as emergency lights above him flickered on.
ANDROMEDA PROJECT HQ
Washington, DC, April 2026
Sweat soaked through Nicolas’s uniform, becoming visible in embarrassing places. He lost his balance during a rant and two workers rushed over to help, eventually relocating him to a nearby armchair. “Don’t worry about me, you idiots!” he yelled.
“No, no, no.” Florence backed away from the noise to use her telepathy.
Russell took over one of the main machines to lead their developers in the daunting task of rebuilding a separate system. “Reserve power is up,” he said loud enough for the general to hear.
“Get back to work and you, get me some water,” Nicolas dismissed the two distractions. “This is getting ridiculous,” he whispered. Out of sight, his forefinger touched the prick of a syringe containing his lifeline. It needed a deeper vein to take proper effect. Russell caught Nicolas inserting the device into his disfigured forearm.
The general knocked the water away with regained vitality when the other worker returned, then reduced one of the computers to pieces with one blow as the liquid continued through his blood stream. A correlation had been made and Russell stood behind with arms crossed, another secret to keep.
“You’ll cripple us even further,” he said, helping Nicolas rip his hand out from the destroyed device. Russell reached the center of the room, facing the large computer screen in front of them. “I told you I needed more time but you didn’t listen. Go online, it’ll be fine. We should’ve rebuilt it before but no one wanted to spend the money.” Technology was his domain to master, but interference led to disappointment, shortcuts led to failure.
“Communications online, sir. Security coming back shortly after…” A screen flickered on to display a map.
Nicolas leaned over the desk for a closer look at the red dot pinpointing the location of the signal’s origin.
“Sir, the vault is offline…and unoccupied.”
“He better not escape this base or you’re all dead!” Nicolas turned around. “Dr. Belladonna, make sure the recruits—where did she go?”
Florence heard her name but let the hallway disappear behind her at a full sprint. She didn’t want to be blamed for Allister’s escape and finding him first would help her case. She needed time. Time. Her psiborg leg pulsed like a star. A psychic wave rippled as if in a pond, freezing each mind it encountered.
Security’s activation returned illumination to Nei
ght’s prison. Florence followed the light through the open door, walking briskly while checking over her shoulder. There had to be a reason why Allister stopped to see Neight before attempting his escape.
“I have begun to reevaluate my disdain for you,” he said, ahead of an obnoxious knock on the glass. “Pausing the brain function of so many individuals simultaneously was unforeseen but well executed.”
She ignored the backhanded compliment. “Allister was here to see you. Tell me why. Are you sabotaging us?”
Neight’s meditation ended abruptly. “Let me explain something to you, Dr. Belladonna,” he shimmered away in smoke then appeared in front of her.
Florence back-flipped and drew her sword’s tip. “How did you—do that?”
“I do not care about initiatives of C20 or the Andromeda Project. I care about what is best for existence. All existence. You must realign your priorities or you will never achieve your true potential.” Neight teleported back into his captivity as quickly as he escaped. “You know where he is,” he taunted. “Help him, as you so desire.” He took a few deep breaths and resumed his meditation.
Helping him or stopping him, Florence pondered disappearing through the doors; she sensed the base waking up.
Leesa hurried to the hangar for departure with a weapons case in hand and tactical backpack over her shoulder. “The prisoner Private Allister Adams has escaped, location on base currently unknown,” blared over the intercom.
Nicolas leaned against the corner. “Find Dr. Belladonna, I think she helped him. Something to do with Dolores.”
Happy to see him was more than an overstatement, but if there was any time to press forward regardless of consequences, it was then. Better to confront Nicolas directly than disregard orders behind his back. She took a breath, adjusting to the constriction of her battle uniform and the protective chest plate; the metal fibers were much less forgiving than the elastane cotton mixture she was used to. “I’ll handle it. Are you okay?” she asked, setting the case down to help him.
“Find them!” Nicolas grabbed her by the plate and pulled her to him. “And I want to make sure we’re clear, on the purpose of your mission.”
Feelings surged like a fever, until a sentence she’d been holding in for years broke it. “She’d be so disappointed.”
Repeated failures, mixed with the loss of his wife, tumbled into memory. The general’s hand crossed the lieutenant’s face in an unprofessional gesture. For a moment, possibly even the first time, they existed as father and daughter. Leesa touched her face, the statement referred to their horrible relationship but it stemmed from his horrible behavior. The sentence, which came after, did more damage than any physical attack.
“You didn’t know her, so don’t act like you knew her.” In a way Nicolas’s actions confirmed the blame she’d placed, everything shifted back to business. “Dolores isn’t a priority,” he repeated, backing away.
He might as well have been a stranger, making her decision to agree or rebel like a teenager, easier. “Private Adams’ mental health is a priority.” Leesa searched his eyes for the key to good leadership, compassion, but only loss stared back. She gave up and kept talking, “He’s about to make a dangerous mistake because he doesn’t know we support him. He may have been sent here to kill you, but he didn’t…still hasn’t. I trust him. He’s honest. More honest than any of us. I’m saving his mother.” She picked up the weapons case and kept moving.
“You’re going down the wrong path,” Nicolas called down the hall.
She whipped around. A telekinetic field radiated from her. “Because it’s not the path you want? I’ve seen the photos, how happy you used to be. My mother would be ashamed of the man you’ve become and I don’t have to know her to recognize it. You. Threw. Her death. In my face!” Fueled by unchecked anger, the field shattered, denting every metal fixture lining the hallway.
Another announcement echoed overhead. “We’ve got confirmation Hangar 7 is open. All personnel report to the hangar bay immediately. Prisoner is armed and dangerous.”
When Leesa was out of sight, Nicolas plopped to the floor. “Allister is a traitor. His whole family…they’re all traitors…cost me everything, my reputation, my career, my freedom. You.” He grabbed his left arm.
FLORENCE BELLADONNA
Washington, DC, April 2026
“Something happened,” Florence said into the Cynque watch. “The recruit…is trying to escape…I’m going to have to go with him if we’re planning to rescue Dolores.” Maybe she was helping.
Hangar Eleven printed in Times New Roman displayed on the wall next to her. She sensed Allister on the other side of it. More soldiers closed in, everyone wanted to play hero.
A warning message from her external contact popped up. “Stay. Out. Of. The. Way. Wait for instructions from General Delemar.”
“I can’t do that anymore!” she yelled in a whisper. “He’s not listening to you. He’s doing whatever the fuck he wants like he always does. Have you ever thought about why this program hasn’t accomplished shit in twenty-five years?”
“Your language isn’t necessary,” the next message said.
“My language is a result of a very stressful work environment.” Florence paused, “The only way I get those gems for you is if I leave now without permission. Without Andromeda Project support. Give me approval or I call it off and you can tell whoever you want about what I did. I’m done.” Nothing. She tumbled through the air and landed on concrete.
“Another traitor.” Leesa stood over her, ready for a second strike. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tear you to pieces.”
Florence performed a sweep kick and had her gun on Leesa before she hit the ground. “One. Because we both want to save Allister. Two. Because we both want to save his mother. Three. Because I can kick your ass.”
An open door beckoned; Allister had overridden the restricted access code. They put their differences aside and agreed to stop him together, then figure out the rest from there. Two spying soldiers followed, Private Coates and Private Suarez. Coates was taller and better looking, but Suarez made up for his sunken eyes and receding hairline with street smarts.
The spaceship had been repaired to perfect condition as Neight promised. Leesa stared in disbelief, unable to recall where she’d seen it. Preoccupied by her own memory, she was too slow to react when Allister sped out from the opposite side.
“Look out!” Private Suarez said, pulling the trigger on a laser weapon. It hit Allister square in the upper chest near his face. He flew backwards and into a pile of scrap metal and debris.
“Allister!” she yelled, levitating the laser weapon out of the attacker’s hands like a snatched toy.
“We’re trying to help you,” Florence pleaded to him. “But you have to stay here and let us.” She’d never gotten an emotional register from Leesa so high in her two years on base. “Keep it together, Lieutenant,” she warned. Big brother was always watching.
Allister’s partially charred head lifted in recognition, replacement skin cells crept over his face as he stood up. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.” The ball of light activated the ship and a shock wave blew the four of them back. Leesa lost control of the weapon.
“Welcome, Allister Patrick Adams,” it said as he climbed into the open hatch. The pilot console lit up. “Coordinates destination confirmed.” Birdlike legs folded into the hull while repulsors kept it airborne.
Leesa recovered and threw her hands up in defense; a telekinetic wall of blue energy manifested as the thrusters fired at full capacity. Visible strain kept her protective field intact against the flames and the spaceship zoomed out of the hangar bay.
“The blue light,” Leesa mumbled, collapsing to the floor temporarily. Florence had never seen her do anything like that before.
“Unauthorized aircraft has left Hangar Bay 11,” the computer wailed alongside the lockdown sirens.
“We have to tell the general he escaped.” Private Coates tremb
led, without the force field he would’ve been scorched.
“We don’t have time to go back and report anything. He’s traveling at supersonic speed and I don’t know how fast our ship goes. The longer he’s there alone, the more dangerous it is.” Florence opened the exit door to the other hangar.
“She’s right, we go now,” Leesa said. “You can either help us get him back or be the ones to deliver the bad news to General Delemar.”
The two soldiers looked at each other and followed along. “There it is,” Private Coates said, sprinting to the smooth black aircraft. It resembled a hybrid of an American jet fighter and something more foreign to Earth’s soil.
An incoming call from her contact flashed over her Cynque watch; Florence ignored it to activate the boarding platform via control panel. As they entered from beneath the plane, Leesa and Florence recognized the thought responsive technology from their research of C20. It wasn’t a coincidence they had the same tech, but neither had an explanation.
Florence was meant to fly but even with her few years of training; its futuristic controls overwhelmed her. The two Privates aka dead weight had no idea either, but astonishingly Leesa sat in the pilot’s chair running her hands over the motherboard. It lit up in blue lighting and asked for a code; Leesa typed in “Andromeda Project” but it was denied. Florence entered Nicolas’s full name.
“Passname denied,” the computer said a second time.
“Sealing all remaining hangars,” boomed from overhead. Their window of success shrank by the minute.
“Passnames are standard operating procedure,” Private Suarez shrugged. “Especially for any untested prototypes.”
“Untested…” Florence stared at her leg until a light bulb went off. The word “Neight” brought the craft to life.
“Unauthorized craft leaving Hangar 9,” echoed over the intercom. “45 seconds to lock down.”
“Welcome, General Leesa Delemar. Coordinates location accepted,” the ship said.
The Andromeda Project (The Cluster Chronicles Book 1) Page 20