Aegis League series Boxed Set

by S. S. Segran

  The man yielded. “And what of the next wave?”

  “It will need to be moved up.” Though furious about that fact, it took effort to quell the smile threatening to crack Reyor’s taciturn exterior. “It will send humanity back to the Stone Age.”

  “Through all this, many will still survive.”

  “That’s why the newest Marauders are being mass-produced around the world. We acquired a fleet of merchant vessels several months ago as well; they will prove helpful in the distribution process. The Marauders will clean up the stragglers. And then . . . the fourth wave. The two projects Quest Defense and Quest Biotech have been setting up. The coup de grâce.”

  “It’s been a long time coming. Still, I wish this needn’t happen.”

  “You have been around far longer than I have, Mentor and you’ve done everything in your power to help, to make a difference. Yet look at where humanity stands now.”

  “I did try,” the old man said thickly. “For over two millennia I travelled the world. I witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations. I tried to impart wisdom. Whispered in the ears of emperors and monarchs, presidents and generals, but to no avail. They invariably turn into bloodthirsty beasts that slaughter each other. I beheld rivers of blood flowing in the four corners of the world, all for a fleeting sovereignty, a handful of dust. How foolish. None of them heeded my counsel and warnings. At the time, I was averse to taking lives. I could have saved countless souls if I had. But to what end, I ask. Are humans capable of achieving a higher evolution? Mankind has walked such a long path, and it seems this species is doomed to be trapped in a loop of division and destruction. And now their corrosiveness is beginning to destroy the planet itself.”

  “And this is why we do what we do,” Reyor said. “We need to stay the course, Mentor. Ours is the righteous path. We are the healers. We protect all that is good.”

  “And that will always be our belief.” The man sighed as he brought his knuckles to his lips and softly touched them to Reyor’s cheek. “I know you have things to attend to. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  He left, and as he grew smaller against the golf course, the prickle of suspicion that had invaded Reyor’s thoughts earlier returned. He’s grown soft. He was the first architect of this creed, but now . . . If he slips, if he becomes an apostate . . .

  She pulled the hood on, stood up, and followed the old man’s footsteps toward the Sanctuary.

  . . . I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.

  LIst of Characters

  The Five:

  Aari Barnes

  Jag Sanchez

  Kody Tyler

  Mariah Ashton

  Tegan Ryder

  The Elders:

  Ashack [Ay-SHAK]

  Nageau [Nah-GO]

  Saiyu [SAY-yoo]

  Tayoka [Tah-YO-ka]

  Tikina [Tee-KEE-na]

  The Villagers:

  Aesròn [Ay-zuh-RON]

  Akol [AY-cole]

  Hutar [HYOO-tar]

  Huyani [HOO-ya-nee]

  Magèo [Ma-JAY-oh]

  Nal [Nahl]

  Sentries:

  Benny Kumar - India

  Deverell Vaughn – Wales

  Dominique Mboya – Democratic Republic of Congo

  Gareth Vaughn - Wales

  Lei Shao – China

  Marshall Sawyer – USA

  Victor Colback - Canada

  Zoe King – Australia

  Related to the Five:

  Camilla Sanchez — Jag’s older sister

  Jennifer Sanchez – Jag’s mother

  Roberto Sanchez — Jag’s father

  Tristan Sanchez — Jag’s older brother

  George Tyler — Kody’s second-youngest brother

  Rachel Tyler – Kody’s mother

  Roshon Tyler — Kody’s youngest brother

  Samuel Tyler — Kody’s father

  Krystal Ashton – Mariah’s mother

  Ellen Barnes – Aari’s mother

  Leah Barnes – Aari’s younger sister

  William Barnes – Aari’s father

  Curtis Ryder – Tegan’s father

  Damian Ryder – Tegan’s older brother

  Genevieve Ryder – Tegan’s mother

  Supporting Characters:

  Carmel

  Ezra

  Lucius

  Anya Deol

  Asa Abramson

  Daniel Cohen

  Kenzo Igarashi

  Subira Nyamba

  Chief – Victor’s wolfdog

  Phoenix Corporation:

  Adrian Black — CEO, Phoenix Corp.

  Dr. Albert Bertram — Chief Scientific Officer, Phoenix Corp.

  Elias Hajjar — Head of Security, Quest Mining and New Mexico Sanctuary

  Dr. Ina Deol – Lead Scientist, Quest Biotech

  Jerry Li — Chief Financial Officer, Phoenix Corp.

  Luigi Dattalo — Chief Executive, Quest Defense

  Dr. Nate — Director of Human Resources, Global Sanctuary Projects

  Tony Cross — Personal Assistant to the Boss

  Vladimir Ajajdif — Chief Executive, Quest Mining and New Mexico Sanctuary

  The Boss — Owner and Founder, Phoenix Corp. and all subsidiaries

  Bonus Material

  The AEGIS CHRONICLES

  by

  S.S.Segran

  Aegis Chronicles:

  #1 - GWEN MBOYA

  by

  S.S.Segran

  AEGIS CHRONICLES:

  VOLUME #1

  Gwen Mboya

  One-hundred-and-fifty-seven kids, ages twelve to eighteen.

  Orphans, runaways, street-dwellers, and a handful from good homes

  All missing.

  All in the last two years.

  Gwen dragged herself out of the water, her shirt and jeans pressing against her with soaking, unwelcome weight. She tensed for a moment, feeling a tightness in her chest as if a concrete block had been dropped on it, before the sensation worked up and out of her mouth. She spat water between her teeth until the ache dulled into oblivion. “You—are—an—idiot.”

  Beside her, a drenched form pulled itself onto shore, heaving out water from its lungs. The form, a blond man she was seriously considering smacking upside the head with her boot, flopped onto his back and wheezed. “Not gonna argue that this time.”

  Gwen rested on her knees, her heels supporting her, and wrung out her top. The water painted the gray pebbles black. Wiping her face, she tilted her head toward the half moon, taking a few deep breaths. The elastic band had been tugged out of her hair sometime between the showdown with the traffickers and the fall into the lake, leaving her black locks at the mercy of the breeze.

  “Okay,” the man said after a few moments. He sat up, running a hand over his face. “So that didn’t quite go as planned. We—”

  “That was a bust, Marshall,” Gwen informed him wearily. “The name of the game is ‘bust’.”

  Marshall didn’t fail to pick up the sardonic undertone in her words. With a grunt, he kicked off his shoes and emptied them of water. “Look, we weren’t supposed to act. This was strictly recon. It’s not my fault you left me high and dry to dive headfirst into an armada of child traffickers. Competent ones, too, might I add.”

  “You call six men an armada? Half a year out of the military and you’re already getting soft.”

  The other Sentry bristled. His baby-blue eyes, usually kind and full of light, flashed and narrowed. He pulled his shoes back on, got to his feet and stormed off toward the road beside the lake. Silently berating herself, Gwen followed him. Her and her stupid mouth. Always getting her into trouble.

  You’re thirty-four, she thought crossly, kicking aside a broken piece of driftwood in her path. You should have better control over this.

  She knew she wasn’t being fair. None of this was Marshall’s fault. She’d called him an idiot and he took it like the champ he was, but she was the real fool for acting out of anger.

/>   When she’d caught sight of the armed traffickers in the abandoned factory, lounging in the office with smug grins, her blood had boiled painfully hot. A whispered encouragement in her mind turned into an earsplitting scream. Weaponless, she’d launched herself from cover beside Marshall, leaving the ex-Marine to figure out a way to get them both out of there before their heads were blown off.

  So he’d thrown himself at her, using his momentum to propel them through a window and into the lake thirty feet below. He’d cradled the back of her head with a strong hand as wind whipped past them, bracing her against the impact of the drop.

  Gwen felt her heart clench. She loved that man so much it hurt. She’d never tell him—if he hadn’t yet figured that out after all these years, what was the point? It just meant the feeling wasn’t mutual. His altruism, his drive to do good at any opportunity, bordered on suicidal. It was probably the one thing she adored most about him. He could have easily let her fend for herself against the men, or joined her in the fight, but he’d taken one look at the entirety of the situation and chosen to get her out of harm’s way.

  She sighed, quickening her pace to catch up to him. He didn’t even look at her as they reached the road and crossed it, making their way to where he’d parked his red Mustang, hidden amongst the trees and shrubs. Once inside, Marshall steered the car onto the asphalt and sped down the winding road. Gwen rested her head against the cool window as the scenery rushed by, eyes half-closed. The silence was almost unbearable, and the sudden drop of adrenaline made her head ache.

  She closed her eyes the rest of the way, letting her mind wander. God, just how much can happen in three days? Feels like just this afternoon I came back home…

  Gwen Mboya reached out to ring the doorbell of a small blue house in Provo, Utah, but the door swung open before she could complete the action. A tall man with a trimmed beard greeted her, his broad shoulders and muscular frame clad in a sleeveless black shirt.

  “You’re late,” Marshall Sawyer teased, stepping aside to let her in. “I came back from the gym at four and you still weren’t here.”

  Gwen flashed a smirk, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest at his soft eyes and easygoing tone. “The heat pretty much welded me onto DeeDee’s seat.”

  “Wha—you named your motorcycle? That’s amazing. No, really, it is. I remember back when I was eight years old and named my toy dinosaur Fred. Good times.”

  “Watch your tongue, Sawyer, before it gets you into trouble.”

  Marshall chuckled. “Message received. Let me grab you something cold to drink.”

  “Water’s fine, thanks,” Gwen called as he stole away into the kitchen.

  She headed into the immaculate living room and let herself be cooled by the electric fan, then removed a stack of documents from her bag. Using sticky tack, she arranged the papers and photos on a blank wall. As she surveyed her work, Marshall returned and whistled as he passed her an ice-cold glass. “You certainly don’t waste time.”

  She gratefully guzzled the drink. “Wow, I needed this.” Setting the empty glass on the coffee table, she grabbed a roll of tape and began linking the documents on the wall with lengths of string. “Okay, to business. You got my email, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but G, as awful as it is—and it really is awful—missing kids aren’t something new. Eight-hundred thousand disappear in the U.S. every year, another eight million worldwide.”

  “And those are just the reported cases,” she said. “Yes, I’m well aware. Not the point.” She pulled out her laptop and logged on, then turned it toward Marshall. “Look, these hundred-and-fifty-seven kids I mentioned? There’s something different about them. I’ve been working on this for a while with a skiptracer, and—”

  “Yeah, six months, you said.” Marshall flopped onto the couch and pulled her computer onto his lap. As he scrolled through her notes, his face slowly folded into a frown. “G, what is this?”

  Gwen joined him on the couch facing him, one leg tucked under her. “If you’d let me finish… As I was saying, my skiptracer friend and I have been working on the missing kids’ cases. He has his own network so while he did his thing, I went out and asked questions, talked to parents or guardians. Here’s the thing: A lot of these kids were either fosters bouncing around the system, or from the streets. But when I spoke to the people who knew them, I noticed the kids all had one thing in common.”

  Marshall lifted his gaze from the screen, piercing her with an anticipative look.

  “They’re smart,” Gwen said. “And I mean ridiculously smart. If they’d had good homes, they probably would’ve graduated high school early and gone straight to the Ivy League. Hell, some of them even did.”

  “Hm.” Marshall scratched the scruff on his jaw, letting his fingertips slide to his lips as he contemplated. Gwen’s eyes followed their path before she caught herself and averted her gaze, feeling a hot flush creeping up her cheeks. She quickly cleared her throat.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “I started looking at these cases from the standpoint of the kids’ IQs. Took forever, and I’m not even halfway through the files. But there are definitely some outstanding candidates. I went back, talked to eyewitnesses of these particular cases, and they all said the same thing—a black van with no license plates nabbed the kids.”

  “A black van?” Marshall echoed. “That’s incredibly clichéd.”

  Gwen smacked his arm. “Marshall!”

  “I’m just saying!”

  “What, you expect them to use something that can be easily ID’d? Like an ice cream truck?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You are something else, you know that? You’re one of the most dedicated people I know, but there are times when you’re just a giant puppy.”

  “Just around people older than me.”

  “I’ve only got two years on you! And don’t you dare say anything more about my age.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. You could be a minute older and I’d still turn into a goofball.” Marshall flicked a strand of Gwen’s hair from her face, then grew serious. “Okay, so there’s a pattern within the larger pool of missing persons, and it’s that someone—or some group—is specifically targeting kids with high IQs, most of whom don’t seem to have proper homes. Question is, why?”

  Gwen pulled back, retreating into herself. It felt like her lungs had inflated and then collapsed. She hated how he could do that, how he could go from playful to laser-focused at the drop of a hat. It never gave her enough time to recover. And he never noticed, oblivious as he was.

  Concern crept into Marshall’s eyes. “G, you okay?”

  Gwen snapped out of her lamentations and kicked herself for slipping up. “I’m fine. So, yeah, that’s where I am. We have the MO, but not the motive.”

  “And where do I come into this?”

  “The latest kidnapping was last month, in Salt Lake City. Kid’s name is James O’Connor. Figured that since I haven’t lived here in a while...”

  “Ah. I’m your chauffeur to the witnesses you want to speak with.”

  “More like my partner in crime.”

  “Poor choice of words for this particular situation.”

  “Hush, you.”

  Marshall placed the laptop back on the coffee table. Getting up, he turned to the documents Gwen had stuck onto the wall. His hand rested on a photo of a red-haired girl; the brief description below described her as being thirteen at the time she disappeared.

  “So these kids,” he murmured, “they never had anyone looking out for them?”

  “In many cases, no, not really. But a few of them are actually from regular homes. Authorities treated them as runaways, and no one can really claim abduction because most of the time no vehicles or suspects were seen, and there were no break-ins at the houses even though all these kids went missing late at night.”

  Marshall shook his head, his hand travelling to another photo, this one of an African-American boy in his late teens. “So the crimin
als are competent. Great. They must have been casing out these kids for some time if they knew which ones to pick out.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  Marshall stepped back, combing his fingers through his neatly-styled hair. “Well, I’m off work for the next two days, so we’ll head out to Salt Lake City tomorrow morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Wanna grab dinner? There’s a Brazilian steakhouse nearby. Or we can go for pizza, if you don’t feel like changing into something less casual.”

  Gwen considered him for a long moment, then got to her feet. “You know what? I’m in the mood for something a little fancy.”

  They grinned and took off, Marshall to his room and her to the bathroom with her bulging backpack. When they reemerged, she was dressed in a breathable white blouse and navy pants with flats, and he was rolling up the sleeves of a cotton shirt.

  She looked him up and down, from the black top to the khakis. “I envy men. All you have to do is throw on something easy and you’re ready to go.”

  Marshall winked. “You literally did the same thing, so you can’t complain.”

  He swiped his car keys from the teakwood desk by a window and they headed to the garage, sliding into his Mustang. Gwen gave a little wave as they passed her red-and-black Ducati in the driveway, earning a small chuckle from Marshall.

  Once they were out of the family-friendly neighborhood, they tore down the highway with the air conditioner on full blast. Marshall had a thoughtful crease on his forehead throughout the ride.

  “What’s on your mind?” Gwen asked.

  “The hundred-and-fifty-seven kids you looked into,” he said. “They’re all from the States?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you checked out the global cases with the IQ angle?”

  “Nope. I just started with the home base. Like you said, eight million kids go missing worldwide. It would take an age and then some to wade through that, not to mention a lot of third-world and developing countries don’t properly report their missing persons. But I did pass on my insights to other field Sentries, so they may be looking into it.”