“I don’t think your son likes me,” Avery said.
Hek’Dara looked back at Avery, the happy façade faded from his face. “My son might not be bright, but he knows when things aren’t right. Watch your step, Avery, or you and I will have a talk again. The next time it might not be so cordial.”
Hek’Dara didn’t give Avery time to reply, he walked away his lips pursed tight together. He knew sooner or later he would have to expose Avery to his mother, before he did something foolish, like lead a rebellion. Human society functioned because everyone had their place. The high-born were the caretakers, the low-born idolized them and the slaves obeyed them. The breeders were nothing more than cattle. If one level of the hierarchy changed, then the order of things would unravel. Hek’Dara didn’t like or dislike slavery, in any form. It just was.
Hek’Dara joined his children on the center stage of the ballroom. Da’Mira stood to his right and Quinton to his left. The crowd took notice and moved around the stage. Hek’Dara gave the onlookers a joyous smile. “Please everyone, gather around,” he said, hidden sensors placed around the stage amplified his voice. Holding his arms out away from him Hek’Dara motioned for everyone to take heed. “We are here today to welcome my son, Quinton back to Earth. He has been away for far too long securing new acquisitions for his family. As everyone here will contest to, having an offspring away from the fold can be a daunting and frustrating time for everyone. But today I’m happy to announce that Quinton has returned to Earth to take a place at my side in the day-to-day operations of the family Tannador.”
Applause erupted throughout the ballroom. Quinton took a step toward the people with a guiding hand from Hek’Dara. He stepped aside and allowed Quinton to embrace the people.
Quinton smiled and waved at the crowd. Cheers and shouts from the people gave him reason to laugh; his face shaded, blushed red.
“Speech!” a woman yelled.
“Yes, speech!” a man shouted seconds later.
The crowd chanted “Speech – speech – speech!”
Quinton drug his hand through his golden hair. Hek’Dara saw a humbled look on his son’s face.
Quinton cleared his throat, and projected his voice, said, “Thank you for such a wonderful welcome. I can’t tell you how I feel about being home because I don’t think being here has sunk in yet.”
“We’re happy you’re back,” someone yelled.
Again, Quinton laughed, raised his hands in front of him, and said, “What a wonderful way to come home with family and friends around you. I can say I look forward to working with my father in finding better ways to bring you the best food product we can.”
More applause echoed throughout the ballroom. Hek’Dara beamed with pride. Quinton may not have been the smarter of his two children, but he had a way with the public that his sister never did. From the time he could walk, Quinton became the recognizable face of the family Tannador. Though not as popular as Gregaor Xavier, he rivaled the Russian.
No matter where Hek’Dara went he made sure Quinton stood close by. He believed the public needed to see the young man – to know that the family Tannador was a youthful vibrant dynasty with the future in mind. Hek’Dara saw the confidence in his son’s demeanor. It reassured him to know that he made the right decision in bringing his son back to Earth.
More cheers came from the unrelenting crowd. Hek’Dara glanced back at Da’Mira. The hypocritical smile across her face looked less real than his. He’d warned his daughter many times not to embarrass the family name. Time and time again she refused to listen, and it had come to a head. Hek’Dara squared his shoulders and turned away from his daughter. The next part of the ceremony wasn’t one of the proudest moments in his life – yet he had no other choice. He saw the faces in the crowd standing around them. Respectable leaders from the Union waited for his next words.
Hek’Dara reached back toward Da’Mira and called for her to move next to him. With a wave of his hand he quieted the gathering and said, “It is with a proud heart I handover the master reins of our flagship, Requiem, to my daughter – Da’Mira.”
A polite applause followed when Da’Mira stepped forward, she stood sharp and regal like a Tannador. Hek’Dara wasn’t sure if he should be proud of her for refusing to be browbeaten by his peers or upset she didn’t bow to their bidding. He remembered the old term, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Da’Mira had been his hard place while the Union had been the rock – calling for sanctions against her. Although the reason behind Da’Mira’s appointment to Requiem was secret, Hek’Dara assumed everyone thought it had something to do with her past indiscretions.
All her life Hek’Dara had been making excuses for his daughter. At ten years old she refused to go on a tour with others of her age to a breeding facility in the marsh lands of Orlando. In a public announcement she called for them to be set free. When she was twelve, Da’Mira organized a rally, with her in attendance, to protest the mistreatment of slaves by the family Hyguard. She called them butchers and put a wedge between the two households that remained.
Hek’Dara knew the reason for Da’Mira’s aggression and he acted too late to prevent her longtime teacher Kab’ic Gear from filling her head with revolutionist ideas. Gear was a brilliant man. His knowledge of history and mathematics were unmatched. Unable to keep employment with the other families because of his anarchist ideas, Hek’Dara hired him because no other tutor would work with Da’Mira. At seven, Da’Mira was out of control. Gear worked with her, calmed her and educated her. Hek’Dara never realized besides standard education, Gear filled Da’Mira’s head with his nihilist ideas.
Hek’Dara never sanctioned Da’Mira’s nonconformist dreams, but he loved her. He hoped sending her out on Requiem would show her there was more in the galaxy than right and wrong. “I give you Da’Mira Tannador, my daughter and master of our family’s exploration ship.”
More soft applause followed. Hek’Dara saw Gregaor Xavier standing among the crowd, he bit his tongue. “Say something… something nice,” he whispered.
Da’Mira stepped past Hek’Dara, but before she could say a word, everyone’s attention moved away from her. Their interests shifted to the slaves throughout the ballroom. People gasped – security men moved in to protect their masters and Hek’Dara stumbled forward with flashbacks of the uprising.
The slaves stood together in unison, their serving trays casted aside. Wine glasses shattered to the floor. Hek’Dara stood speechless. He stepped past Da’Mira and off the stage. The large ballroom was as silent as a grave. The slaves stood in protest. Not with violence like thirty years before, but in an unwavering alliance. Their stances were solid and unbroken, their symbol of unity – the clenched fist rose above their heads in protest.
Telecom cameras surrounding Gregaor jetted toward the demonstrators and began broadcasting every moment of the protest. Several of the cameras swarmed around Hek’Dara but he ignored them. Swatting at them like pesky insects. Hek’Dara remembered what Avery said about revolution. The Lexor son might not be the arrogant one after all. Change hung in the air as an undeniable truth and Hek’Dara realized he could do nothing to prevent its arrival.
Dalnaspidal Breeding Facility
Scotland, April 17, 2442
The trees in the Hallmark appeared to grow out of solid stone. Their roots stretched across the rock face and gripped the boulders in the wooded area like giant fists netted over their prey. The strange tree growth considered a product of the pollutants seeded in the atmosphere in the late twenty-first century, brought about a glitch in the natural evolution of the planet. Even at the behest of the scientific community, governments allowed manufacturing conglomerates to pour toxins into the air and destroy the Earth’s ecology.
By the time mankind realized it was their mistreatment of the planet, it was too late. Extraordinary weather events, the U-6 virus, babies born with birth defects or stillborn, it seemed the Earth was lashing out at the humans responsible. By the middle of the twenty-s
econd century the population of the planet dropped thirty-three percent.
Concerned for the eventual extinction of the human race, the breeding projects began as a way to preserve mankind. They started out innocent enough. The best breeding stock from all over the planet came hoping to produce premium offspring to ensure population survival.
A hundred years later the breeding project changed. Humans became manufactured commodities. Their weight, size, body fat, eye and hair colors were predetermined before birth. The human race had a good chance of survival. Everyone had a chance to pick the perfect human and soon breeding a better prodigy gave way to creating more efficient servants.
With the collapse of world governments, replaced by corporations, the servants became subjugated, and by the time the nine great families moved into orbit of the planet, servants became slaves.
Dalnaspidal’s breeding facility, one of the oldest on the planet, stood as a testament of man’s downfall into anarchism. Colin McGregor stood among the trees, his body hidden in the dark. He felt naked without his broadsword. The open wounds on his back prevented him from carrying such a heavy weapon. He watched the breeding facility with disgust. He hated himself for allowing his sister to be there. If he would have acted sooner, worked out a plan to storm the plasma gates and break her free, then she would be with him now.
In the distance the unmistakable sound of the plasma fence hummed around the complex. The orange glow of the field shone brightly against the dark night sky. Colin and Shane stood ready, armed with their splinter rifles and nightingale pulse launchers. If they took the Orlander security guards by surprise, Colin hoped to carry out the raid quickly. Bring down the energy fence long enough to cause some havoc and free several of the breeders.
Colin looked at his watch. “Get ready,” he said checking his weapon for the tenth time. “Whatever’s happening on the orbital platforms should happen any minute now.”
“We’re in over our heads, aren’t we?” Shane asked.
Colin agreed. He knew the outcome looked bleak, but with a chance of being reunited with his sister gave him the incentive he needed. Far too long he followed his clan chieftain, who kept Colin in check by imposing more and more rules on him. Finally, forsaking Lord Langland’s power over him changed Colin’s outlook. No longer would he stand in the shadows like a cowering pup. The time for an all-out rebellion stood before him. He planned to send a message to the high-born, and he intended to taint that message in blood.
Colin broke through the tree line and raced across the open field of rock and dead grass toward the breeding complex. Shane ran close behind. The approaching mobile watcheyes filled the night sky with their unrelenting buzzing sound. Colin stopped and bent to one knee. The torn flesh of his back sent a searing pain through him – he gritted his teeth and ignored it, powering his nightingale.
From behind the plasma fence the watcheyes buzzed into view. Their continuous flashing red lights illuminated the night sky. Colin pointed his EMP weapon and waited for the probes to fly closer. With two pulses from each nightingale weapon, Colin knew they had to make each shot count.
He fired. The static pulse vibrated across the air. Colin felt the hair on his arms stand up; a cold chill tingled across his scalp. The watcheyes dropped to the ground. The red pulsing lights blinked out. Even the plasma fence around the complex shimmered.
“Hurry – we haven’t much time – we need to be closer!” Colin yelled running over the dead sward. He reloaded his EMP for another blast.
Shane raced ahead when the pair neared the plasma fence. This time he knelt to one knee and pointed his nightingale. When he released the charge, part of the fence blinked off. For the first time they saw into the compound.
Just inside the deactivated plasma field Colin saw the breeders. “Stay here,” he told Shane and ran toward the complex. His splinter rifle rose at the ready for Orlander security to appear from the other side of the fence. He could hear his heart pounding. He jerked tight on his gun when four security men appeared out of the dark. The men didn’t carry guns. Instead they held clubs. These aren’t Orlander trained men. Colin fought enough of them to know. He didn’t recognize the sigil on the uniforms. Leaving inept men in charge of guarding the complex, meant the Orlanders believed their facility couldn’t be infiltrated. Wrong thinking, Colin thought.
“Drop your weapons and I won’t shoot,” Colin warned.
The men froze. They tossed their clubs to the ground and raised their hands, backing away. “We don’t want trouble,” one of them nervously said. The men were haggard, ill fed, and poorly dressed. Colin’s nose curled at their rotten odor. A gutted feeling tightened in his stomach. Their nothing more than slaves themselves, Colin thought. “How many more guards inside?” he asked shoving his rifle in the men’s direction.
“We’re... we’re the only ones,” a second man said just as nervous.
“Then go... I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you come back. You understand?”
The guards didn’t answer, they shared a silent look and stared at Colin dumbfounded. “Go on get,” Colin snapped charging forward with his weapon frightening the men so much, they scrambled from the compound. Their footfalls fading in the night.
Colin turned toward the facility, weapon at the ready – just in case. Lights, from towers unaffected by the EMP, filled the yard. He saw half a dozen women standing outside. “I won’t hurt you,” he told them, lowering his weapon to the ground. As he moved closer to them, he noticed their eyes held no spark of life. Their dirty skin looked pale. What clothes they wore hung thread worn. “You girls… come with me. You’re free… don’t you understand?” The women looked confused. They huddled together, away from Colin. Their faces contorted in fear. They reminded him of frightened animals.
Colin hesitated, then against his better judgment he stepped pass the deactivated fence. He heard Shane behind him telling him not to go any further, but Colin didn’t mount his attack to leave the breeding facility empty handed.
“Don’t you understand me?” Colin asked the browbeaten girls. “You can leave… I’m here to free you.”
Still the girls did not reply. Minutes later more women came out of the buildings with the same muddled look on their faces. When Colin realized that the women were under the hypnotic control of the lotoson drug, his plans changed.
Colin looked back at Shane and motioned with his hand for him to stay put. He moved toward a huge white sterile building.
At the front of the building, the main doors swooshed open and Colin smelled the antiseptic odor beyond them. He stepped in. Powerful lights flickered on and in front of him he saw the automated system going about its function, paying him no attention.
The walls in front of Colin were all glass. Beyond them he saw rows and rows of pregnant women suspended from plastic hoses. Intravenous tubes were connected to the women’s arms and stomachs while they remained comatose. Automated functionary computers spun around on the white sterile floor below the women, checking their vitals and reloading empty fluid bags. Colin never imagined a sight so disturbing. This isn’t living, it’s existing.
A hidden door embedded in the wall slid open. The antiseptic odor became stronger. A low steady hum in the background filled Colin’s ears. Beyond that the sound of babies crying drew him toward them.
He found the newborns in their cribs. Like their mothers, fluid bags hung overhead. The plastic tubing ran down into their bodies, already being addicted to the lotoson drug. Future slaves, Colin thought. The idea sickened him. For a moment he considered destroying the building, mother – child and all. What kind of monster would that make me? He couldn’t carry them all out of the building, though he considered it for a moment. Where would he take them? Lord Langdon would never except them into the clan, and there wasn’t any way he could take care of them on his own.
Colin reached down and placed a hand on one of the glass cribs and eyed the infant inside. If he left them he would be no better than the bas
tards that kept them in this state. What has happened to the human race…?
An alarm rang out and Colin’s stomach lodged in his throat. He ran toward the entrance; he turned back to take one last look. He gasped, almost forgetting about Shane. The watcheyes would soon be back on power. Stuck in a conundrum he couldn’t resolve, he left the building angered he couldn’t help. He wrestled with his decision. He hated leaving the babies behind, but there wasn’t enough time.
Outside, more breeders stood in the compound; some naked and haggard, their eyes fixed on Colin when he approached. He could save them. More alarms rang, and the plasma fence began to re-energize. He raised his rifle and fired at the ground blasting chunks into the arid soil at the feet of the breeders.
“What are you doing? Run – you’re free… RUN!”
The breeders scattered. A few ran back toward the shelters, but a bulk of them ran outside the fence. Then Colin saw them, the watcheyes returned to life, the buzzing sound filled the air, they took to the sky, seconds later Shane fired his rifle.
Colin ran to help but the plasma field came alive trapping him inside the complex. “Shane!” he yelled. Weapon blasts came from the other side of the fence, but Colin couldn’t see what was happening beyond the static field. More weapons fire, a mixture of watcheye weaponry and Shane’s splinter rifle echoed in the dark. Helpless, Colin stood there… then he remembered his EMP. The weapon still held one last charge. Scooping it off the ground, Colin primed the weapon. A steady charge powered up, a light indicator brightened on the side of the gun. Seconds past like hours as Colin waited for a full charge. Firing it to soon, before the weapon was ready, would prove pointless. It has to have a full charge… come on… come on…
Finally, the indicator flashed, and Colin stood back away from the fence and fired the weapon. Once again, the plasma field deactivated. He tossed the weapon aside and ran to help Shane, his rifle out in front of him, ready for action.
Origin Expedition Page 14