by Jay Allan
As I stepped through the lock, I swore I heard Lois laughing.
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Books in the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper Series
TRADER TALES
Quarter Share
Half Share
Full Share
Double Share
Captain's Share
Owner's Share*
SHAMAN TALES
South Coast*
Cape Grace**
Tanyth Fairport Adventures
Ravenwood
Zypheria's Call
The Hermit of Lammas Wood**
* Available in audio (itunes and podiobooks.com), print and ebooks coming soon
**Forthcoming
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The Golden Age of the Solar Clipper
If you enjoyed this novel, you will be happy to learn that…
Quarter Share is the first in the six book Trader's Tales series set in the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper. Nathan's series tells the tales of everyday men and women, real people doing ordinary things and forging bonds of friendship while traveling the stars in the Deep Dark. It is a coming of age story of Ishmael Horatio Wang—a broke, uneducated, orphan from a backwater planet at the edge of nowhere. He’s not a “hidden prince” and he wasn’t adopted. He’s just an average Joe trying to make a living.
This series was originally released as audio podcasts distributed for free. The entire series is available now and can be found at www.podiobooks.com/ and the iTunes Music Store as free audio downloads.
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About the Author
Nathan Lowell first entered the literary world by podcasting his novels. The Golden Age of the Solar Clipper grew from his life-long fascination with space opera and his own experiences shipboard in the United States Coast Guard. Unlike most works which focus on a larger-than-life hero, Nathan centers on the people behind the scenes—ordinary men and women trying to make a living in the depths of interstellar space. In his novels, there are no bug-eyed monsters, or galactic space battles, instead he paints a richly vivid and realistic world where the hero uses hard work and his own innate talents to improve his station and the lives of those of his community.
Dr. Nathan Lowell holds a Ph.D. in Educational Technology with specializations in Distance Education and Instructional Design. He also holds an M.A. in Educational Technology and a BS in Business Administration. He grew up on the south coast of Maine and is strongly rooted in the maritime heritage of the sea-farer. He served in the USCG from 1970 to 1975, seeing duty aboard a cutter on hurricane patrol in the North Atlantic and at a communications station in Kodiak, Alaska. He currently lives on the plains east of the Rocky Mountains with his wife and two daughters.
AWARDS FOR NATHAN’S BOOKS
2011 Parsec Award Winner for Best Speculative Fiction (Long Form) for Owner's Share
2010 Parsec Award Winner for Best Speculative Fiction (Long Form) for Captain's Share
2009 Podiobooks Founder’s Choice Award for Captain’s Share
2009 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (Long Form) for Double Share
2008 Podiobooks Founder’s Choice Award for Double Share
2008 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (Long Form) for Full Share
2008 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (Long Form) for South Coast
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Contact
Author’s website: nathanlowell.com/
Twitter: twitter.com/nlowell
Email: [email protected]
LEGACY CODE
AUTUMN KALQUIST
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BONUS:
PARAGON
AN EXCERPT
“ARTIFICIAL GRAVITY”
FROM THE PLAYLIST
LEGACY CODE
FRACTURED ERA: LEGACY CODE BOOK 1
AUTUMN KALQUIST
Copyright © 2014 Autumn Kalquist
All Rights Reserved
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CHAPTER ONE
Era huddled against the wall and pressed her hands to her ears, blocking out the piercing sirens. The emergency lights cast a red glow over the rest of the colonists in the stairwell. One step above her, a mother held a young boy, his eyes wide in fear. Era dropped her hands and clamped them over the gentle swell of her belly.
Where was Dritan now? First shift was over. He’d be done working. Safe.
Today they’d finally find out if their baby had the Defect. She’d be late for her appointment, but it couldn’t be helped. The entire ship was on lockdown.
Was it a fire? A hull breach? Another uprising? Era shivered. No. She would not let herself imagine all the things that could have gone wrong. TheParagon was the safest ship in the fleet. Whatever the problem was, they’d have it under control.
But a maintenance crew might be called during an emergency like this. A maintenance crew like the one Dritan was on.
Era stared at the panel across from her and began to count the rivets, one by one, pushing her terror down. When she ran out of rivets to count, she started over.
Then the sirens cut out, and the emergency lights shut off.
“All clear.” A voice blared from the speakers above the landing. “You may now return to your duties.”
Era blinked in the silence and gripped the handrail. The flickering yellow light of the dying lume bar above the landing cast strange shadows over the colonists. The young boy broke into sobs. His mother reprimanded him, but he didn’t stop.
Era stood, shaking, and walked up the stairs. The Paragon had dedicated all of level four to Medical. She kept going until she reached it. Several colonists waited in front of medlevel’s doors. A whir sounded, and the locks disengaged.
As the doors slid open, a group of colonists exited and ran up the stairs. Light blue suits, the helix and triquetra patch on their sleeves. Medics. Era’s stomach clenched. Which sector had Dritan’s crew worked today?
The sting of disinfectant burned her throat as she entered the waiting area. She surveyed the space, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. A few people waited on the worn metal benches.
Dritan wasn’t one of them.
A line of clerks sat at stations against the wall, and Era headed for the one marked Population Management.
A young brunette clerk, face drawn, sat up straighter behind the high counter as Era approached.
Era swiped her shift card across the stationary’s scanner, and the large black box beeped in response, verifying her check-in.
The clerk twisted her wrist to the right, and her small transparent eyepiece darkened, taking on a reflective quality. She splayed her fingers wide to bring up an interface only she could see. “Era Corinth?” She stood. “Follow me.”
Era glanced back at the doors. Dritan had promised he’d be here—that she wouldn’t have to face this alone. But he was too late. She wiped her damp palms down the coarse fabric of her suit and hurried after the clerk.
“Do you know what happened?” Era asked as they entered the wide corridor behind the waiting area.
The clerk stiffened and kept her gaze straight ahead. “I’m sure they’ll tell us if we need to know.”
Era swallowed and tried to focus on the route they were taking.
It’d been hard to get used to the maze of corridors on this ship. She’d grown up on one of the smaller manufacturing ships in the fleet, the London. Her home, like every other deka, only had a single medcubic. But the Paragon was the fleet’s flagship, ten times the size of the largest deka. When you needed the best medical care, you applied to come here.
The clerk stopped at a cubic and ran her shift card across the scanner. The door opened, but Era hesitated. What if Dritan was injured, or worse? He’d never miss this. What had kept him?
The speakers in the ceiling crackled. “Medics to medbay three. Medics to medbay three. All hands clear the entrance. Incoming casualties.”
The clerk paled and gestured to the cubic. “The medic
will be by soon.”
Era steeled herself, her heart in her throat, and stepped into the small space.
A tattered exam table, two stools, curved cabinets anchored to the walls. It was nearly identical to the place where they’d removed her implant so she could get pregnant. But she’d never seen a machine like the one in the center of this medcubic.
The rusted panels were missing rivets, and a crack ran through the main holo interface. Had to be the genscanner. The Paragon had the only one in the fleet. The medic would use it to scan her womb, and they’d know right away if her baby had the Defect. Pain-free, unlike an amnio.
Era sat on a stool and pushed up the cuff of her suit. She traced the infinity symbol on her wrist. She’d gotten the left half, teardrop-shaped, when she turned twelve and became an apprentice. The right half stood out, its pigment darker. They’d completed her tattoo eleven months ago, the day she’d paired with Dritan.
An image of Dritan formed in her mind. His body battered and bloody. His chest, still. Once-bright hazel eyes staring blankly ahead, their spark gone. She squeezed her eyes shut. Incoming casualties.
After the sirens shut off, those medics had run up the stairs. Dritan’s crew spent most of their time doing maintenance in the sublevels, didn’t they? He’d be fine. He probably just got held up by the lockdown like she had.
The door slid open, and Era opened her eyes. An old woman with short, gray hair entered. The lines on her face made her look older than fifty—the right age to be a patient on medlevel, not a working medic.
The woman gave Era a tight smile, twisted her wrist, and her eyepiece darkened. With one finger, she tapped the air in front of her and opened her hand wide. “I’m Medic Faust. And you are…age seventeen, fifteen weeks pregnant…” Her lips parted, and her hand froze mid-gesture. “Era Corinth. Your husband’s name is…?”
“Dritan Corinth.”
“Corinth…” Medic Faust said, a strange edge in her voice. “From which deka?”
“The London.” Era squeezed her hands tighter in her lap.
“Oh. Was he born there?”
Why did it matter? I just want to get this over with.
“No, actually. He was born on the Meso.”
Medic Faust studied her and gave Era a small smile.
“Well.” She turned to the genscanner and gestured. The machine hummed to life. “Unzip your suit to the waist, and lie down please. This will only take a minute.”
Era’s heart sped up. Just get it over with. Besides, the sooner this was over, the sooner she could find Dritan.
She unzipped her faded black suit with slow care. The zipper had already come away from it twice, and half the pockets had holes in them. It couldn’t take many more repairs. If she lost it, she’d be down to one. It’d take months to work her way up the list and get a new suit from the Vancouver, the textile deka.
The cool air hit her skin, and she shivered, crossed her arms over her sore breasts, and climbed onto the exam table. As she lay back, the cracked plastic stuck to her, prompting goosebumps to spring up along her arms.
The medic took several square patches from the cabinet and pressed one onto Era’s bare belly. “Just a small charge.”
A tiny shock rushed through Era, and she winced. Medic Faust frowned, peeled the patch off, and applied a second one. Another shock coursed through Era’s body.
The medic made a fist to shut off the genscanner. “This is what happens when we don’t get the parts we request. We’ll have to do this the way the rest of the fleet does, I’m afraid.” She lifted the patch from Era’s abdomen and turned to the cabinet. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you were relieved to bypass the needle.”
The medic carried a tray over and set it on the shelf next to the exam table.
The needle was huge.
“Amnio?” Era sat up, her stomach churning. “There’s less risk with the scanner, isn’t there?”
“Yes. A scan’s safer than amnio, but—” she lifted the needle from the tray, “I’ve done this many, many times. Lie back, please.”
Era settled back on the table. Experienced. Probably the most experienced medic in the fleet.
Medic Faust placed a cold hand on her lower abdomen and pushed down, feeling for something. Era stared up at the lume bar in the ceiling and tried to keep her breathing even.
“A pinch, now.”
Searing pain shot through Era, the shock of it worse than grabbing a glitching helio from the air barehanded.
“Hold still.”
The needle quivered from where it had been plunged deep into her womb. The muscles in her abdomen seemed to seize up, and Era fought to keep still, trying not to imagine how deep the needle went.
Medic Faust twisted a tube onto the needle and pulled, drawing up clear liquid. After an agonizing minute, it was over, and the medic smoothed a bandage over the wound. She held the vial up to the light. “Good. We got enough. Your results should be back in about a week.”
Era’s hands shook as she zipped up her suit, and her stomach threatened to eject the quin gruel she’d eaten at first mess. Another week waiting for the answer.
“Medic Faust?” Era licked her lips. She should leave now and not ask, but she had to know. “What are the odds that my baby will—”
“Never call it that. It’s a collection of non-sentient cells.”
Era swallowed. “What are the chances the cells will have the Defect? Has anything changed?”
The medic pressed her lips together, and a dark look passed over her face. “Still fifty percent.” She placed the vial on the tray and opened the door, not making eye contact. “You can check back in one week to schedule your follow-up.”
Era mumbled her thanks and stepped into the corridor. She tried to ignore the dull ache in her womb.
Two women walked toward her, down the corridor. The clerk from population management and a young pregnant woman with dark skin. The size of the gentle rise beneath the woman’s suit suggested her pregnancy was nearly as far along as Era’s. The woman met Era’s eyes and gave her a small nod.
The clerk opened the door to a cubic, and Era glimpsed an exam table and an array of scuffed and dented machines beyond.
“You’ll be sedated,” the clerk said. “When you wake up, it’ll be gone, scraped clean. Easy and quick.”
“Okay. Thank you,” the woman said.
Era rested a hand over the throbbing spot on her belly and quickened her pace, retracing her steps to the waiting area.
Fifty percent. One in two.
One in two died, but that also meant one in two lived.
Even if she had to abort, they’d place her back in the lottery. There’d been more pregnancy approvals lately. They’d lost so many colonists on Soren. Balance needed to be restored.
If this…“collection of cells” had the Defect, she might get another chance. Why, then, didn’t the thought make her feel better?
Era slowed as she reached the waiting area. A crowd had gathered. They stood in front of the benches, blocking her view. She inched around a few of the waiting patients and saw what they saw. Medics, rushing through the doors.
The first medics ran past Era, a stretcher between them, and she caught sight of a guard. He was unconscious, a mask and oxygen pack on his face.
The room tilted around Era, and her nausea intensified. A second pair of medics went by carrying another wounded guard. He had a blanket over his legs, the blue fabric soaked through in places. Blood dripped from the stretcher, leaving a trail of bright red dots that marked the tiles and extended back into the stairwell beyond.
The crowd waited, but no other medics came through the doors. Era pushed past the people in her way and hurried to the stairs. If nothing had happened to Dritan, he’d be waiting for her in their cubic. Please be there.
∞
Era reached level one, home level for paired couples on the Paragon. Her heart pounded as she hurried past the long line of cubics.
A pair of maintenance w
orkers lifted a panel from the wall and blocked her path. They’d stripped half the walls, exposing ancient components and bundles of wiring. A middle-aged tech ran diagnostics at the end of the corridor. From afar, he could’ve been her father working on the London. Before the accident.
A hard knot of fear expanded in Era’s chest as she neared their cubic. It only took the swipe of her shift card and a quick glance to see the small space was dark. Empty.
Era leaned against the wall next to their door, eyes closed. The system would have shown she was scheduled for an appointment during midbreak. Someone would have found her, told her if Dritan had been in an accident. Wouldn’t they have?
But no one had told her last time.
She had overheard Zephyr’s father give the orders, and she’d rushed down the stairs, taking them two at a time, to the London’s sublevels.
The crowd had gathered in the jumpgate sector. The sector that stayed dormant for decades until the need for another gate arose.
Her father’s body had lain mangled in a pool of his own blood, a red arc of it splattered across the machinery next to him.
No one noticed her standing there. No one except Dritan.
He’d recognized her as the lead tech’s daughter and had pulled her away. She’d cried in his arms, her tears mingling with the grease stains on his green sublevel suit.
He’d been there for her that day and every day after. They’d left the London to get away from the accidents, the random acts of violence, the terrorist threats, the deadly Soren work draft. If something had happened to him, if coming here had all been for nothing…
“Era.”
Her breath caught, and she opened her eyes. Dritan strode down the corridor toward her, his expression grim. At the sight of him—his brown skin, the hazel eyes she could lose herself in—the pain in her chest vanished.
He drew her close and pressed his warm lips to hers. She melted into the intensity of his kiss, every muscle in her body relaxing.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice wavering.
“Let’s talk in the cubic.”