Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1)

by Hash, Charles

  Nascent Decay

  by

  Charles Edward Hash

  This book is dedicated to the strongest and most important women in my life. My Grandmother Lucille, my mother Barbara, my aunt Shirley, and my partner Jennifer.

  Without them I would have never understood the meaning of dedication, hard work, and perseverance.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Copyright © 2014 CharlesHash. All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  The Chamber

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  Ashes of Asylum

  Vorcia

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  Nova Phoenix

  Isaar

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  Epilogue

  Index

  Other work by this Author:

  Prologue

  “I fucking hate this song,” Mason whined, his voice piercing the localized audio channel as he struggled with the controls of the simulator pod. There were four of them lined up against a wall of the recreation room, but only three were occupied. “Change this shit.” It was a commanding sort of question, one a weary child might pose to a lenient parent. Rhylie sighed heavily in response. “Please?”

  Mason was a scrawny fellow that never seemed to shower, and dressed in black every chance he got. His chin-length dark hair was always greasy and Rhylie didn’t think he even knew what a comb was.

  “Nope. I like it. It reminds me of home,” she responded playfully, trying to keep the conversation light. They were going to be stuck together for several more days on their supply run to outpost Alpha-T-2 and she really didn’t want to listen to Mason’s tantrums the entire time.

  Rhylie herself was a plain girl, with plain brown hair that she kept in a short bob. She had a mixed heritage that could be traced back to Asian, African, American, and Persian with some Brazilian and European thrown in for good measure, but she mostly just told people she was Martian. She thought herself to be cute enough; not beautiful, but far from unattractive. She had wide, dark eyes and a button nose, but her lips lacked the plumpness most guys seemed to prefer.

  She had just turned 18 and enlisted herself into the Exploration Branch of the United Allied Forces for the homesteading benefits. Two years of service for a large parcel of land on a habitable world had sounded like a pretty good deal, and her parents had supported her decision. It had also been a rash decision, made in the wake of the messy breakup between her and her ex-boyfriend.

  “It’s nothing but a bunch of generic pop garbage,” Mason fired back. “There’s no feeling to it. No soul. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were just something randomly generated by software with the sole purpose of selling music.” He worked the controls of the simulator aggressively, as though he was trying to wrestle them into submission. “This song obviously follows a mathematical formula that has been designed to cater to the lowest common denominator. They’ve been using this exact same song structure for well over five centuries.”

  Mason was a self-ascribed student of music, but for the most part he just made Rhylie hate listening to music with him. She was already tired of listening to his “underground” music, whatever that meant. She wanted to hear something that had a beat and some vocals.

  “Fine. Calm your ass down. Not everyone listens to a bunch of noise like you do, y’know,” she replied wearily as she caved in. Mason was no fun, especially when he was aggravated. He was losing terribly in the simulator, so of course he was in a bad mood.

  “It’s NOT noise. It’s called Ambient Textured Melodic Binaural Subtones,” he replied as he strafed his way through an asteroid belt in a simulated craft, hunting for his adversary. “You just don’t get it.”

  “It doesn’t even have a beat,” Rhylie groaned. Mason’s shitty attitude seemed to be contagious. Another reason she didn’t like him. “It’s boring, and it just makes me want to go to sleep.” She skipped to the next song anyway, just to shut him up. A grating, melodic noise began to meander through their headsets. “This band would be better if they had a singer.”

  “It’s better than a bunch of whistles and clicks,” Mason retorted. His ship slid around a large asteroid, where he saw the flash of the other player’s craft as it darted away to the left. Backing up, he swung his craft back around to try and head them off. “And don’t even get me started on the lyrics. I’m pretty sure they’ve been recycling the same garbage for well over a millennium.”

  “You’re so sensitive,” Rhylie cooed into the mic, trying to be playful. “It’s just music. Don’t get your panties twisted.”

  “Ugh. That’s the problem. It’s not just music, it’s-” Mason was cut off mid-sentence as the other player slid from behind an asteroid on his right flank and nuked him easily. “FUCK,” he screamed into the mic. “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.”

  “You suck at this, Mason. I don’t know why you even bother playing,” Rhylie stated bluntly. She could be a jerk too, if that was the game he wanted to play. She hadn’t known Mason for very long, but he wasn’t difficult to figure out. He was actually pretty transparent at times.

  “Because he loves the pain, don’t you Mase? He loves that shit,” said Ian, his voice booming through the headset like a beam of light. Ian was tall, with broad, well-muscled shoulders and a mocha skin tone that set off a gorgeous smile that could light up the room. He always smelled like cocoa butter too, which was nice.

  “Fuck you both. It’s the only damn thing to do on this ship,” Mason growled back.

  “That’s the problem with people today,” Ian said snidely in his thick Titanian accent. “They don’t communicate anymore. The art of conversation is lost to our generation. You wanna play again Mason?”

  “Sure…unless Rhylie wants to give it a try,” Mason said reluctantly.

  “Nah, you two go ahead. I just like watching,” she responded.

  Mason was right, there wasn’t anything to do on the supply ship other than play around on the simulator, and most of the simulations weren’t very good. At least they could listen to music while they played.

  The ship they were using to transport cargo and supplies was an old, outdated model that had been in service for at least 70 years. They were fortunate to even have the simulator. Some of the earliest transport ships were still in use, and after a rash of cabin fever events, for
ms of entertainment had been installed in the newer models. There wasn’t a whole lot to do in dead space. A pregnant pause hung around them as the next match started up. Rhylie burst it before it could swell.

  “So…what are you guys going to do when your tour is finished?” she asked curiously. The tedium was already beginning to coagulate around her. Do I really have two more years of this? she thought to herself.

  “Here we go again,” Mason said irritably. That’s why Rhylie didn’t like him. He was always complaining about everything, unlike Ian, who always seemed to make the best of the worst.

  “Give her a break, man, it’s her first trip,” Ian shot back. Rhylie blushed, thankful that they couldn’t see her. She already had a crush on Ian. “I’m going to visit Earth, I’ve never been there,” he quickly added.

  “Earth is nice,” Rhylie said. “Everyone should visit it at least once. It’s good for you to see where you came from.”

  “I’m a third generation Titanian,” Ian boasted. “Titan is where I came from. Titan is what made me who I am today.” Titanians were proud of the harsh conditions they had endured to colonize Saturn’s largest moon. They had practically become their own culture and nationality after nearly two centuries of established colonization.

  “I’ve never been to Titan,” Rhylie said. “But I’ve heard stories.” The truth was, she had heard Titan was just a slum hole of eternal ice and darkness. The only thing Rhylie really knew about it was that her father owned stock in several methane and nitrogen mining companies that were headquartered there.

  “Stories don’t even begin to do it justice,” Ian replied wistfully. “The Rings of Saturn, now those are something everyone should see. They are truly magnificent.”

  “I’ve got a ring you can both look at,” Mason interjected wryly. Rhylie groaned.

  “C’mon man, back off a little,” Ian said defensively. Rhylie giggled and blushed again.

  “It’s okay, I have an older brother that makes Mason look like a grumpy cat,” she said. “I can take it. I could give it back too, but he seems like the overly sensitive type. People that dress in all black usually are.” Ian laughed.

  “You dorks wouldn’t understand culture,” Mason said defensively. “It happens to be a fashion style that has been around for hundreds of years. It’s classic. You’ve probably never even heard of goth.”

  “You mean it went out of style hundreds of years ago,” Ian shot back as he destroyed Mason’s craft again, for probably the hundredth time. Ian was at least five years older than Mason, and had been doing supply runs a long time.

  “FUCK,” Mason yelled again. “Fuck you, Ian. Fuck you.”

  “Deal with it, man. You need to practice against the AI some more or something. Maybe try the tutorial again,” Ian replied dryly before continuing with the previous conversation. “What are you going to do when your two years are up, Rhy?” Ian seemed to enjoy giving people nicknames; he had one for pretty much everyone.

  “I don’t know. I heard the terraforming project on Gliese is going really well, and they’ll be opening it up for public expansion soon,” she blurted out, barely repressing her excitement. It was her most favorite question ever. “Maybe a family. A couple of children, a boy and a girl of course. A partner to help raise them,” She sighed involuntarily. “Grand BABIES,” she giggled at the end.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…slow down there missy,” Mason’s voice cut through the headset, slathered in sarcasm. “Who said I wanted to get married?” Ian laughed. She loved the way he laughed.

  “Fuck you, Mason!” she interjected playfully. The thought of touching Mason made her feel a little ill.

  “Yeah, well that is a thing that can-” Mason’s voice was cut off before he could finish his indecent proposal by another voice overriding the audio channel.

  “Wake up everyone, I have visual confirmation of an unidentified craft. Everyone to their stations now,” Sergeant Bryson barked sternly through their communication devices.

  “What the fuck-” Mason started again.

  “I’m serious Mason, this is not a drill. We need everyone to be ready,” Sergeant Bryson said. His voice was cold and stern, but there was a hint of panic underneath the trained dialect. Rhylie’s heart caught in her throat. “Private Underhill, I know this is your first run, so I want you near the pods. Mason, Ian, I need you up here with me just in case this gets ugly.”

  “Yes sir,” came their dual response. Rhylie removed her headset. Was this really happening, or were they just playing some kind of joke on her?

  Ian and Mason lifted the doors to their simulation pods and hurried off in opposite directions. Rhylie sat there for a moment with her mouth hanging open, frozen by uncertainty as she waited to see what would happen next.

  “What the fuck are they doing? They’re just sitting there, watching us,” Mason’s voice came across the com device a minute or two later.

  “I don’t know. Maybe they just want to contact us,” Sergeant Bryson said, trepidation creeping into his voice.

  “It sure looks weird. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Ian said. “I don’t even see any weapons on it.”

  “I can’t scan it. It’s like it’s not there,” Mason said in a frustrated tone of voice. “I can’t tell you whether it has weapons or defenses or if there’s even anything alive on it.”

  “It looks like it IS alive,” responded Ian, sounding amazed. “Is something growing out of it?”

  “Just hold our position guys, we don’t want to provoke anything here,” said Sergeant Bryson.

  “What the fuck. They just shut down our gravity well” said Ian in an aggravated tone. “Fuck them, they can’t do that shit.”

  “Shit man, they just did. What the hell, man, what the fucking hell,” Mason’s voice was panicked.

  Rhylie didn’t realize they were actually being serious until she began to float from her seat, drifting, as the ship’s artificial gravity began to fade. She panicked, reaching out to grab something. Anything. Her left hand frantically found the lip of the simulation pod she had been sitting in.

  “Rhylie, I told you to get to the cryostasis pod. Why are you still in the rec?” Sergeant Bryson said irritably. “Go! Now! NOW!” His tone was authoritative and demanding, and she obeyed him immediately this time.

  She pushed herself from the simulation pod, drifting across the rec room, towards the corridor that led to the cryostasis pods. She was glad she had taken those zero gravity training courses now.

  “I…I think they’re going to try to board us, Sergeant,” Ian said, his usually deep and confident voice beginning to break with concern. “With that…thing…growing out of the side. Whatever it is.”

  Rhylie began to pull herself down the corridor using the handles on the wall. Her palms were sweaty, but she focused, hand over hand, one by one, as she made her way down the hall. Gravity wells were always experiencing some sort of failure, and there had been such handles installed into every ship just for those types of emergencies.

  Her heart felt as though it were going to hammer through her chest, but she forced herself to remain calm. Freaking out now wouldn’t help anyway. Hopefully there would be plenty of time for that later.

  A small part of her still held out hope that they were only playing a joke on her, as some sort of hazing initiation. She really didn’t care much for it, if they were. It would be a cruel way to welcome her to the crew.

  A soft thump reverberated through the hull of the ship as Rhylie pulled herself into the cryostasis room.

  “They’ve synced up, Sir,” Mason said. “Ship sensors indicate bay doors will be breached in less than 30 seconds.” Rhylie pushed away from the doorway and floated across the small room to one of the pods.

  “Rhylie, get in a pod. Get in a pod, NOW!” Sergeant Bryson’s voice sounded every bit as desperate as she felt. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears like an ocean surf when she strapped herself into the pod. The door slid shut with a soft hiss.

 
The last thing she heard before she was put in cryostasis was Sergeant Bryson’s voice over the com device.

  “Stasis Eject Pod Three. Destination Earth.”

  The Chamber

  1

  Rhylie began to awaken from cryostasis before the door on the pod slid open. She had been dreaming forever it seemed, sometimes lucidly, but often in a wildly incoherent fashion. Dreams of her memories, dreams of her fantasies, dreams of life and death and everything in between. Her mouth felt cold and dry, like a smooth polished stone. Her tongue was wooden, rough, and splintered as she dragged it across the roof of her mouth.

  The cryostasis pod was currently testing variables in the external environment, as well as monitoring her vital signs as it slowly brought her out of dormancy. She could see shapes on the other side of the door, humanoid silhouettes moving just beyond the portal window. The world inside of her pod was silent and still, like a grave.

  Her vision was blurring in and out, and she felt icy cold, all the way down to the blood sluggishly coursing through her veins. Her heart was beginning to pump strongly, albeit intermittently, as it resumed functioning. She fumbled clumsily with the manual restraints that bound her inside the pod. Her fingers nor the buckles would work properly.

  The pod door slid open with a hiss, and bright, sterile light flooded in, blinding her. The silhouettes hovering above her darkened further in contrast, obscuring their features. She brought her hands up to cover her face and felt something prodding at her sides. Rhylie shut her eyes tightly as her body shivered with involuntary chills.

  She could hear a series of odd, whispering clicks that had a strange sort of elegance. It was almost musical, like the wind rustling through dry leaves. It took her a moment to realize that it was coming from the silhouettes above her. They were speaking to one another in some sort of strange and unknown language. Rhylie was fluent in three languages herself, but she had never heard anything like this.

  She opened her eyes and spread her fingers apart to peer through them at the two figures standing above her. They were both intently examining her, one of them groping her and prodding her lower abdomen with some sort of silver rod. The other one was feeling on her breasts with a small, flat disc. But something wasn’t quite right.