The Indoctrination

by K. L. Bone

  The Indoctrination

  By K. L. Bone

  Text Copyright © 2013 Kristin L. Bone

  All Right Reserved

  Cover Art © 2013 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  First Edition: August 2013

  Second Edition: January 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

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

  Dedication

  The story is dedicated to my family for their love

  and support and to my long-time writing mentors

  Pam, Lili & Kate.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Chapter XXIX

  Chapter XXX

  Chapter XXXI

  Chapter XXXII

  Chapter XXXIII

  Epilogue

  About the Author:

  Prologue

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “I do,” I replied.

  “Please state your name for the record.”

  “Chrissalynn Dehartra Kasar, highest ranking military commander, and Empress of the Setian Empire.”

  “Empress Dehartra, you have been charged with ninety-thousand counts of murder, multiple counts of rape, and high treason. How do you plead?”

  “I plead guilty!” I shouted so my voice would carry above the crowded room. “Guilty to more murders than I can recall. Guilty to multiple counts of rape. But never, never in my life have I ever committed treason!”

  I paused as the courtroom was shocked into silence at this unexpected confession. I took a breath and continued, “My only real crime is being what I was made to be. If I was forced to serve the Empire, why not rule the Empire? Why not enjoy the rewards and bask in the pleasure of power? All I have done is defend what I am! The Setians took over the universe; I destroyed their leaders and took it for myself. I am the most preeminent military leader in existence and I ascended to a position of ultimate power. You think I am evil? You think I am a terrible, wicked person? Then hear my story as it is meant to be heard and listen well, for I will only tell this once and you shall never hear its like again.”

  My first memory is not of grand parties or mass destruction, but of a day far more ordinary. When I was four or perhaps five years old my father took me out for a special trip, just the two of us. My mother stayed home with my younger brother who still did little more than sleep and cry at what I recall were at the most annoying of moments. We left early that morning and I watched the sky from the passenger seat of my father’s small car as we drove down the California coast. The sunrise on that cool spring morning held the perfection found only in a picture captured on a postcard. The grey emptiness faded to an elaborate array of pinks, reds, and oranges before finally changing to a beautiful cerulean blue as the blazing sun rose to warm the sky, chasing back the darkness of night for yet another day. On occasion, I would move to glance at my father who was a handsome man with hair so dark it was almost black and deep dark eyes to match.

  He took me down to the beach that day, a beautiful spot which was difficult to get to, but worth it once you were there. We had to climb over jagged rocks and down a narrow trail where few people would brave to travel. This left the sand seemingly smooth and untouched. I ran to the edge of the ocean with my father close behind me. I rushed forward to touch the ocean waves, the breeze whispered in my small ears as though welcoming me home after a long day’s toil. I put my hand in the clear water and was surprised at how cold it was to the touch. My father smiled at my surprise and we took a few steps back toward the beach, but not far enough to leave the wet sand completely.

  “Will you build a castle with me, Daddy?”

  “And what would you do with a castle, my dear?”

  “I would be a Princess!”

  He laughed. “That you would, Chrissa, and someday you will be.”

  “Really? A real Princess?”

  He laughed as I began to gather the sand to build my castle. “Yes,” he whispered as he stared off into the glistening blue water and gave a small sigh. “You were meant for far more than this,” then he looked back at me. “Someday you shall be a Princess, the most powerful and beautiful in all the land.”

  I smiled at him and then he laughed before leaning down to assist me in my plans. Twice the tide came in closer, and twice we pulled back, trying to get the castle high enough that it would not dissolve into the water. My father built a little trench around the castle to help better protect it.

  “I need some sea shells,” I told him, “to decorate the castle with.” My father stopped piling sand and walked along the beach in search of the perfect shells. He returned a few minutes later.

  “Here you are, my Princess, five shells for your castle.” As I stood there staring at my castle, I took the shells gently in my hand. “This one,” I held up a yellow shell with a streak of a surprisingly bright blue, “will be my captain.” I put the first shell by the small hole I had made in the bottom of the castle. “He will be my friend and will do whatever I ask of him.”

  “Will he now?” my father gave a slight laugh.

  “Yes,” I replied with a smile. “Then this one,” I picked up a darker shell, almost a shiny black, but it could have been a very dark blue, “will be the Lord of the castle. He will love me and protect me from all danger.” I put that shell at the top of the castle, by a little hole that served as a window overlooking the vast sea. I picked up two more shells, one a pure white while the other was a black base striped with white. These I put on the top of the castle. “These are the prince and me,” I said boldly.

  “And what about this one?” my father spoke of the last remaining shell still in his hand.

  “This one?” I took the shell into my small hand. “Umm,” the shell was jet black, smooth to the touch, and had a tiny splash of red in its center. As I stared, the red splash seemed to form the shape of a tiny rose. It was beautiful. I handed the shell back to my father and said, “Here daddy, this shell is for you.”

  “For me?” he asked.

  “Yes, for you. Will you keep it safe?”

  He smiled at me warmly as he said, “Yes, Chrissa, I will keep it safe.”

  When the castle was finished, my father and I walked along the edge of the water, allowing the waves to wash over our toes with the rise and fall of the tide.

  “Oh my little girl, if you had any idea of the things you will one day see! The world is so much more than you can ever imagine.”

  “And will you show me these things, Daddy?” I asked in youthful ignorance.

  “
Yes, my darling, I will. You will see it all and I will be there to show you.”

  I laughed and for a moment, we were the only two people in a beautiful world.

  But like all moments, this one had to come to an end and two weeks later, my father was dead. He had gone back to the sea, on a small fishing boat with a couple of his friends. A sudden storm shredded the boat and though a search was conducted, his body was never recovered.

  When he died, my mother changed. She just gave up all will to carry on with her life and responsibilities. She tried at first, but after a few months she simply could not deal with her life anymore. She began to drink heavily. My mother became unable to care for James, my younger brother. I was forced to take care of him, growing up very fast in the process. Despite the downturn of my life, I remember my sixth birthday with crystal clarity.

  My mother woke me up early that morning and took me into her bedroom. She gave me a golden locket with diamonds around the outer edge. “For love and memory,” she told me. Looking back now, I realize I was too young to understand what was about to happen. A few hours later my mother woke up my brother and told us we were going on a trip. I have no idea how long the trip took or what the car looked like, but I remember how she looked behind the wheel of the car. She was wearing a plain, blue cotton dress that was cut low in the front. Her long black hair hung loosely around her slim shoulders, trailing lightly down her body to end just above her thighs. Her lipstick was bright red against her light skin and her dark blue eyes held a hint of sadness my six year old mind could not understand.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  “Nothing, honey,” was her only reply.

  She drove up to a six-story building. It was an ugly shade of green surrounded by an old wooden porch. As I stepped out of the car, a woman with non-descript brown hair and eyes rose from a chair on that porch and came out to greet us. She smiled at my brother before shaking hands with my mom. They stepped aside and whispered among themselves for what seemed like a long time as my brother and I entertained ourselves on the edge of the porch. Finally, the lady stepped away from my mother and walked over to where my brother and I were playing. She told us something I will never remember, because when she finished I looked back towards my mother. She was in her car. I looked on in confusion as my brother cried, “Mommy?”

  “Where is she going?” I asked. The lady said something else I didn’t hear over the engine of my mother’s car. I stared hoping, waiting, knowing that she would stop; that this was all some joke. It wasn’t. My mother put her car into drive and as I watched, moved forward onto the road. I called out her name, “Mommy? Where are you going? Mommy!!!” The car went down the dirt road and I watched as she disappeared from my sight. It was the last time I would ever see her. Eventually, my brother stopped crying and the nice lady took his hand and walked him into the orphanage. I just stood on the sidewalk whispering her name. It would be the first of many nights I would stand outside waiting for her to return; she never did

  My bother’s unique combination of charm and youth attracted a lot of attention. He was a cute, intelligent child with a big smile. It was only a few months after we arrived that a young couple, Jill and Barry, came to meet with him. Jill was a tall woman of twenty-eight who had been recently informed that she would never be able to have children of her own. She had long blond hair that stopped just above her waist, light green eyes, and pale skin. Her husband stood tall beside her. He was twenty-nine, and very handsome with dark brown eyes and matching hair; the kind of man who had once been a star on the football team.

  After meeting my brother only twice, the couple petitioned for and was soon granted guardianship of us. We were whisked away to their home in the country, which sat in the center of fifteen acres of land. The house was crimson in color and was surrounded by a large stone wall. There was a wrought-iron gate that served as the entrance way. The house was two stories high. We were given separate rooms on the upper floor and were allowed to share the third room as a theater and playroom. As I grew older, it also became a library, as a great number of my favorite books found a home upon its shelves.

  Barry and Jill were traditional. They had taken the liberty of painting our rooms; one pink and one blue. Barry and Jill’s own bedroom was painted in a soft yellow, matching our playroom. All of the remaining rooms were either a sky blue or slightly off-colored white.

  Our adoptive parents were very nice people. Jill was a school teacher at the local middle school while Barry was a defense attorney for one of the town’s small law-firms. Jill’s grandparents had died and left the house and land to her. We were treated well and received most everything we needed throughout our early childhood. Because of Jill’s profession, education was a high priority and I developed a love of knowledge. I found an escape in novels and could often be found lying on my bed allowing stories to transport me to different worlds.

  As time went by, my memories of my parents began to fade, but the dream of them one day returning burned like a flame in my mind. I suppose it is the dream of every orphan that one day their real parents will come back. My brother was only three at the time of our adoption, and soon could not remember our parents. By the time he was five, he called our adoptive parents Mom and Dad and was basically raised to believe they were his parents. My resistance to this idea kept me from reaching the same level of closeness which my brother formed with the couple. In a way, I suppose that I came to resent my brother on some level. Surrounded by friends and beloved by our parents he grew into a happy, lively child while I, on the other hand, never seemed to fit in.

  As I reached middle school, I found myself an outcast who never seemed to find common ground with any group. I was the girl who was always sitting alone at a small corner table in the back of the lunchroom. My adoptive parents tried at first to push me towards a more social life, my mother dragging me to occasional parties for the children of her neighborhood friends, but it was too little avail. My ninth birthday party was attended by no one except my immediate family. I compensated for my lack of friends by throwing myself into my studies, claiming the title of every teacher’s pet. I even managed to skip both the first and third grades, which only served to isolate me further from my much older classmates. This isolation often caused me to long for the ever fading promise my father had made me so long ago on that far off beach, which now exists only in my dreams.

  Chapter I

  Sometime just after my tenth birthday, I was sitting alone in my bedroom. The bed was covered with a white bedspread embroidered with light pink roses with green petals. It was night, around nine o’clock. Barry and Jill had gone out for the evening. A young woman named Claudia was watching us and had brought a pizza with her when she arrived, solving the daily dilemma of the evening meal. She was eighteen and nice enough.

  On this particular night, I was thoroughly engrossed in a copy of a Star Wars novel when a strange, high-pitched sound caused me to put down the book. I laid perfectly still, listening intently to the silence that followed for several minutes. Just as I was shaking my head and picking up my book, “Screech!” There it was again, only this time it was so loud my hand moved to cover my ears. The sound lasted for about thirty seconds, before it was once again followed by an eerie silence that filled the entire room.

  This time I jumped from the bed and moved quickly towards my desk. I reached over the desk, threw back the sheer pink curtains and opened the window. The cold winter air raced into the warm room as I cautiously looked outside. The usually dark night sky was filled with small blinking lights of red, blue and brilliantly bright white. As I continued to stare out, I saw a large shape in the sky, though it took a moment for me to register exactly what I was seeing. It was a huge aircraft the likes of which I had never before seen. It was black as coal, sleek, and had silver streaks along the side. From what I could see, it had bright lights in the front, one of which was spotlighting the house.

  Fear engulfed me as though it was a living thing; my h
eart beat in the back of my throat. I ran towards my brother’s room, screaming Claudia’s name, not knowing that she was already dead. As I burst through his door, I found him standing by the bed, clearly having heard the strange sounds himself.

  He was in blue pajamas that made him almost blend into the walls of the room. I moved my brother onto his bed and held him tightly, as I tried to think of what to do next, but never got the chance. Armed men, with what appeared to be small, blue guns, walked into the room. There were eight of them, all wearing matching bright red shirts with a strange circular symbol on the left side. The men surrounded the bed and pointed their guns our way. I begged them to tell me what they wanted, but the men remained silent. If they felt any emotion at pointing their guns at two helpless children, their faces did not show it.

  Then a man entered the room wearing a business suit. Black slacks accompanied a white, long sleeved shirt under a black jacket. He had light skin, brown eyes and dark hair. He appeared very professional. Those around us seemed to hold their breath, as though waiting for him to speak. “Please sir, who… who are you? What do you want?” My voice came soft and unsteady. The strange man listened to my words, a smile on his lips.

  “I would never dream of harming you,” the man said in English. “If you promise to come with me quietly, I will agree not to harm your brother and leave him be. Do you understand?” Tears filled my eyes, but I shook my head yes, yes I understood.

  “Who are you?” I asked again. “Have I done something wrong?”

  The man gave a soft, low laugh. “Amazing the mind of a child,” he said. “Simply amazing. Oh how I have missed…” He seemed to pause, then regroup, “Come child, all will be explained in due time.”

  The strange man nodded to one of the red-shirts, who put his gun away and walked over to me. He took my hand and led me out of the bedroom and down the stairs. We walked out the door where I saw that the ship had landed on the lawn beside our house. It was huge and covered the lawn for as far as I could see. As I was led down the driveway, a doorway of the ship opened, lined on both sides by armed men.