New Atlantis Bundle, Books1-3

by Glover, Nhys

  ‘B…Beau…t’

  Cara felt her heart leap into her throat. Was he trying to say …

  ‘Beautiful Cara?’ she questioned, unsteadily.

  His mouth twitched upward and he blinked twice.

  Oh, God, he was really back. Really my Jac!

  ‘Yeah Jac, it’s me. And everything is going to be great, just great. Rest now. You’re working really hard to get this new sports car up and running. Just rest…’

  His eyelids dropped closed, and he instantly fell into a deep sleep, the frown that had marred his forehead fading with him.

  ‘Well, that is very promising. I would not have believed it possible. But, it would appear he is integrating perfectly.’ Karl looked up from his Tablet, and smiled at her. ‘If you had not been so insistent, we would never have considered the experiment. Jac has you to thank for his life.’

  ‘And yours for being willing to take the chance. I know how rigid this system is. You had to go against everything you knew, to make this happen. Thank you, Karl. Thank you!’

  Karl smiled broadly at her. ‘Science is always open to new discoveries. Sometimes something happens that turns all our theories inside out. We then have to go back and question our original hypotheses. It is what we do.’

  ‘Well, if you want my theory,’ she said slowly. ‘I think that Consciousness gets tired after nine lives, and wants out. Nine lives is just a culturally recognised time frame to adopt. But if a Life Force really wanted to, it could break the nine lives rule. And if that Consciousness has a will to live, that defies everything, then it could integrate with any body it was given. The subjects in your early experiments just didn’t want to live enough. Jac does. He really does.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cara stood in the bathroom doorway, staring at the sprawling, naked giant in her bed. He slept the same way Jac had always slept, arms and legs spread wide, taking up the bulk of the king-sized bed. But it was still a shock to see Hakon’s body there, in that private space. Even after a month together, the shock could hit her. One moment, she was with her Jac, not even thinking of him any other way. The next, she was staring at a stranger, and she’d have to fight down the guilt she felt over her attraction to this man.

  At weird moments like that, she felt she was being unfaithful to her Jac. And memories of him would cascade across her mind – Jac falling off the treadmill; smiling at her with such bemused happiness; looking into her eyes in the noisy club just before he leaned in to kiss her for the first time; the love that reflected in his forest-green eyes when he claimed her body. And that first moment, when they had stood together at the bathroom mirror, her new body held against his; those beautiful, artist’s hands holding her small breasts, his skin golden brown against her white.

  Then the weird moment would pass, and she would look at her new Jac, all thoughts of Hakon gone. There was nothing stiff and formal about this big man now. The mouth never thinned with barely controlled tension. Jac owned this body in a totally different way. If anything, he seemed even more relaxed and at peace than he had been in his old body.

  She went back to bed, knowing the villa’s automated systems would soon turn on the coffee maker and start the surround sound system, so they would be bathed in music and the ambrosian smell of fresh brewed coffee as they awoke. There was so much to be grateful for.

  Sliding into the spare foot of bed space, she rested her head on Jac’s broad shoulder. His arm curled around her in his sleep. It felt so natural, so right. She kissed the warm skin of his chest and felt the arm tighten even more. Then the other arm came across his body to brush hair back from her face.

  ‘Morning early bird, what woke you up?’ he asked, his deep baritone raspy with sleep, and so different from old Jac’s tenor.

  ‘Just a trip to the bathroom. And nerves. I’m nervous about this meeting…’ She snuggled into his arms, and buried her head in his shoulder, feeling the soft wisps of his lengthening hair on her cheek.

  He’d been good that way; growing it longer to please her, even though it was unfashionable in New Atlantis for men to do so. Hakon’s hair was finer than Jac’s had been, and the lock wasn’t as unruly. The need to keep brushing it back wasn’t there anymore.

  ‘Yeah, well, after all we’ve been through, nothing they have to say is going to be that world shattering.’ He stroked her naked back, stirring carnal thoughts within her.

  ‘They weren’t happy when I told them I wasn’t Jumping anymore, even though they gave me time to “rethink my decision”. And I keep getting a paranoid sense that they don’t like the fact that you exist at all. You’re setting a bad precedent. Made a fool of them by your very existence.’

  ‘Ah Cara, you talk about the Government as if it were Big Brother. They aren’t nearly as controlling as all that. Protocols aren’t meant as unbreakable rules. They’re just normal operational procedures designed to maximise efficiency. I’m not an anomaly they want to sweep under the carpet; I’m a new door opening. They’re excited by the possibilities.’

  ‘Yeah, so you say. But we’ll see, won’t we. Something’s brewing in the cavern, and I don’t like it.’

  ‘Change, Cara? You don’t like change?’ He laughed at her.

  ‘Laugh it up, big boy! Some change is good, other change is bad. This feels bad.’

  He laughed again, that deep chested rumble she was coming to associate with the new Jac. He laughed a lot these days, and it was such a pleasant sound.

  Turning over, so that he loomed above her, Jac swooped down to capture her mouth with his own. For a moment, she played at fighting him off, trying to keep her brewing sulk in place. But the kisses were delicious, and soon they drove all thoughts of meetings and change from her mind.

  This was what she lived for. This was what she gave thanks for every day, a hundred times a day. Jac was hers. Still alive, still fully functional, still desperately in love with her. Everything else was insignificant in comparison.

  They made love slowly, lazily, enjoying the sensuality of touch and taste. When they came together in the dance, which was both achingly familiar and yet still so new, they gave themselves to the rhythm, riding it faster and faster, until they ploughed over the edge, and fell together into the bliss of shared release.

  ‘As you may be aware, there has been an increasing number of incidents, in-situ,’ the tall, thin man called Hal Hartford said. He looked at the other members of the committee, who sat along one side of the long table.

  ‘Yes, we are,’ Jac replied, although it was apparent his comment was not necessary. He felt Cara edging closer to him, from her position seated next to him, on the other side of the table from the committee. He took her hand, and squeezed it to his side.

  ‘Initially, Jumping was undertaken by single individuals, because our population was so small. Since the instigation of Retrieval, our population has increased substantially. It is apparent that we are now in a position whereby more than one Jumper can be assigned to each Retrieval. This would greatly reduce the danger to Jumpers.’

  Jac frowned, and turned to look at Cara, completely stunned by the new developments. Jumpers Retrieving in pairs? It was a sensible and safe option, even if it was only half as productive. It would revolutionize Jumping. But why were they telling Cara and him this? Neither of them were Jumpers anymore. Cara had put in her resignation shortly after their incident, while he was still integrating into Hakon’s body.

  She wasn’t afraid to Jump, he knew that. It was a choice she had made for him. And, though it still made him feel guilty, that she would willingly submit to a life wholly within the stifling confines of New Atlantis, he didn’t have the heart to talk her out of her sacrifice. The reality was, she had the courage to Jump, but he didn’t have the courage to let her, anymore.

  ‘The successful integration of a Consciousness past its ninth life, and into a different clone, also brings into question many of our previously held beliefs about the nature of Consciousness, and the part Will Power plays
in the process.

  ‘Where life is static. Where change is tightly controlled, the vitality of Life is lost. It is our new hypothesis that a Consciousness loses its will to live when it has exhausted all potential for growth. We have limited that growth, in the Gaian Confederacy, and thus aided in our own shortened lifespans.

  ‘It has therefore been decided that new methods of revitalizing our communities need to be instigated. We are interested in Cara’s proposal. It has been gathering a great deal of support amongst the rank and file. It would require a great deal of careful planning, but the possibilities are inspiring.’

  ‘My proposal?’ Cara interrupted, frowning in confusion.

  ‘That we target children for Retrieval,’ one of the older women on the committee informed her.

  Jac squirmed a little. Submitting the proposal under Cara’s name, shortly before her integration, had been an impulsive act. And he hadn’t expected it to come up for consideration for years. But he’d wanted to do something to ease the stifling effect his world seemed to have on her. He’d wanted to find a way that she could feel comfortable with him, so she didn’t have to run away to the past to breathe.

  Now it seemed the idea was being taken seriously. It was an audacious plan that could mean the end of their stability and peace. But it could also mean growth and change. And, if Cara had taught him anything, it was that change could be good.

  ‘We therefore want to offer you two this project. You will train special Jumpers to Retrieve children. And organise suitable parenting couples to take on their care, once they are Retrieved. It will require you to Jump, together, particularly early on in the project. You may also wish to parent one of these children, as your own. The actual Protocols will be up to you to instigate, along with a specially selected committee.’

  ‘Jac can’t Jump. He has no lives left,’ Cara spoke up.

  He couldn’t help laughing. After what he’d done to be with her, she still clung to that out-moded belief?

  ‘Beautiful Cara, I have as many lives left as I need to have, to be with you. And we will decide when we’re ready to let go of life – together.’

  She stared at him in stunned joy, as the realisation of what she was being offered began to crystalize.

  ‘Jac, we can save the missing children! We can give them new families, new lives …’ Her face was a picture of wonder, as the concept began to blossom in her mind.

  ‘Yes, and we can inject new life into this mausoleum,’ he said, with a laugh. Then he turned to apologise to the committee, for his lack of tact.

  Cara laughed joyfully, and threw herself into his arms, kissing him deeply and repeatedly. For once, he didn’t care whether their open display of affection was considered offensive or not. He was alive and celebrating new life with his woman.

  And, if neither of them looked as they did, when they first fell in love, it only reinforced the miraculous bond that had grown between them. It had brought him back from the dead, in more than one way, and had resurrected his world. Compared to that kind of love, nothing else mattered.

  Read more about New Atlantis in

  The Dreamer’s Prince, Book 2 in the series:

  The Dreamer’s Prince

  A New Atlantis Novel- Book 2

  Nhys Glover

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. With the exception of historical events and people used as background for the story, and those in the public domain, the names, characters and incidents portrayed in this work come wholly from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental

  Published by Belisama Press

  © Nhys Glover 2013

  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 delete it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Prologue

  Spring 2331, New Atlantis GAIAN CONFEDERACY

  Cara Westchester sat on a swing and watched as the ten children, ages ranging from three to ten, played on the equipment around her. They were loud, bumptious and delightfully alive. The sound of their laughter and screams echoed out into the quiet city for the first time in over two hundred years. To Cara that sound was the fulfilment of a dream.

  From the nearby classroom, Millie Solano waved and came toward her. The energetic and youthful strides were a hallmark of the woman, whether appearing as the seventy year old she had been, up until nine months ago, or the twenty year old she now looked to be. There had always been an agelessness to Millie that Cara had immediately recognised as a kindred spirit to her own. They had been fast friends since Cara had Retrieved her from San Francisco in 1971, ten months ago.

  Millie picked up three year old Hassam and sat with him on the other swing. For a few minutes both women swung in harmony, enjoying the satisfaction of a job well done. Then Millie glanced over at the pathway that ran the length of the school yard, and was fenced off for the protection of the children. Like caged animals, more than thirty adults, dressed in identical white tunics, stared at the children, their expressions ranging from joy to sad yearning.

  ‘There’s more every day,’ Millie commented, as she swung with the delighted child. ‘I’m starting to worry that we may have made a mistake. These children are having a deeply unsettling effect on this world.’

  ‘We expected that. My God, many of the old timers haven’t seen kids since before the Last Great Plague more than two hundred years ago! And they never expected to again. They might be uncomfortable with the change, but no one is opposing it. And we’ve got new couples registering as prospective parents every day. Not to mention the flood of applications to join the Child Retrievers.’

  ‘These people wouldn’t oppose anything their government decided. They’re far too conservative. But the pain I see on those faces every day is heart breaking. I just don’t know if holding a carrot out in front of hungry eyes is going to have the desired effect, long-term. People are forming bonds, not out of love, but with the hope of being selected to parent a child. They’re turning their lives upside down, just to have a child in their life – for what, ten or fifteen years? In terms of their lifespan of nine hundred years or more, it seems insignificant.’ Millie stroked the dark hair of the child in front of her.

  ‘Millie, it’s not about the length of time they have them as children, it’s what they stand for. These are their future, in a way that adults like you and I, who were Retrieved, could never be to this sterile race. And growth is always painful, even when it’s wonderful and worthwhile.’

  Cara looked over at the spectators who gathered in increasing numbers at every school recess or lunch break to watch the children play. All they wanted was to experience childhood again; to remember their own, or that of their long gone off-spring, or to dream of a future that might one day include one. If that had an element of sadness attached, as it did for her when she remembered her dead son Billy, it was insignificant compared to the pleasure such children could bring.

  New Atlantis of 2331 was a different place from the one she first encountered a little over a year ago. In amongst the peaceful mausoleums now grew tiny shoots of new life, which would soon revitalise a world that had remained frozen and traumatised for more than two hundred years.

  The Missing Children were their healers.

  Chapter One

  February 1968, Sydney AUSTRALIA

  Jane Jeffersen heard the bell above the shop door tinkle and felt her heart give its answering agitated jiggle against her ribcage. Like Pavlov’s Dog, she’d become conditioned to react to the sound of that bell at this time each morning.

  It had only taken a day or two for the response to be ingrained; the stimulus was so strong. Just present a tall,
dark and handsome man of mystery at the same time as that bell tinkled at 9.30 each morning, and her desperate, teenage heart would go through the ridiculous process all over again. Like clockwork.

  What had her metaphorically salivating was Julio Santa Catarina. Every day, at precisely this time, he would come in to the corner shop where she worked in Sydney’s Rocks area, and purchase a packet of Malboro cigarettes. Then he’d stop to talk to her for a few minutes, before leaving again, the pack of fags unopened in his hand.

  That she had never seen him smoke one of those cigarettes, or seen the tell-tall dark smudge of nicotine on his beautifully manicured fingertips, just added to his air of mystery. It was almost as if those cigarettes were simply an excuse to come in and talk to her.

  But of course, that was absurd. Not only was she just a frumpy eighteen year old, in a dead end job, with nothing of interest to offer someone like Julio, she was also terrified of men. So her nervously stuttered answers to his questions proved as painful an experience for him as it was for her.

  Yet, he still kept coming in, and asking his questions. And he would listen intently to her stammered replies, as if the fate of the world depended on them.

  There was nothing personal about his interest in her. She got no ‘vibe’ of attraction from him. In fact, he seemed to look down his long, elegant nose at her when she spouted some nonsense or other at him.

  Like yesterday, when he’d asked her what she thought of the war in Vietnam. She’s called it American Imperialism, and watched his chocolate brown, oh-so-sexy eyes blink several times in shock. When he’d asked her to explain herself, she’d become so ashamed of her revolutionary stand that she couldn’t put into words what she really thought. She ended up spluttering something about Imperialism not being a bad thing, as Australia wouldn’t be here if the Poms hadn’t been Imperialists.