First Watch: A Watcher Bay Adventure

by Auburn Seal

  Thinking of that presented the next question. Why bring her up now? She questioned the universe, fingering the aged pendant on its chain resting at the hollow of her throat. Why not two years ago? Mirco and I could still be together . . .

  Soaring through the air, strong arms circled her waist, holding her tight, keeping her safe. Neyve distinctly remembered the sharp slap of high velocity winds tempered by soft lips kissing her neck. They careened through the sky in the power-para-glider, bodies pressed close, the constricting ground hundreds of feet away. Barely teens, living for the moment, loving for an eternity.

  With effort she tried to wrench her mind away from the train of memories to nowhere. Yeah, not working so well.

  What if Mirco never left?

  What if she’d been able to go with him?

  Memories of her lost love came with too many painful pieces of baggage, so she switched tracks.

  What if mom and dad were still alive? The flood that swept away their hotel wasn’t the first environmental disaster to claim thousands of lives, nor would it be the last. The global downward spiral added a string of new tragedies every year. An inescapable situation for most.

  But what if the opportunity to leave Earth actually existed for her?

  Finally, a question worth thinking about.

  On the whole her life circled a sucktacular drain, not fully flushed yet moving in the general direction. An all too common condition nowadays. Rationed food, mostly from a Nutrition Actualizer and totally tasteless, added nothing to a person’s daily experience. Palpable fear of the terrorist factions becoming their own governmental superpowers. You could practically countdown to when some psycho hit a button and blew everybody up. Yeah, there’s something to look forward to. At seventeen, Neyve knew she’d never see adulthood.

  As one of the million suddenly parentless children worldwide, thanks to a parade of natural disasters and routine terrorist attacks, Neyve often heard how lucky she’d been as a toddler to be taken in by her uncle, one of the corp of engineers they called Reachers, The planet’s most prestigious group accessible to the non-elite, where skill determined membership—not birth. Yet Uncle D’s justifiable pride in his position covered a core of arrogance and secrecy.

  Neyve could blame his furtive behavior for igniting her passively rebellious side. She didn’t like being left in the dark. Or maybe her basic nature propelled her toward any and all activities considered thrilling and brave, like high-speed parasailing, great white shark dives with nothing but a small re-breather and a bag of chum, or powerblade skating through Deathtrap Alley. Brave or stupid, she obviously didn’t need him or his secrets. Or so she told herself.

  Especially since he was about to leave her too.

  “Gah!” Pushing off from the chair she’d been lounging in, she forced her body into motion. A change in scenery might help her get out of her own head before the carloads of what-ifs completely derailed her.

  “Sir, can you tell me our ETA?” Neyve asked the nearest adult, a dark-skinned man clothed in a red Reacher uniform and aviator cap. The ginormous man towered over her, at least a couple feet taller and easily twice her size. Hard to miss.

  Starting, the man glanced down at her. “About two hours or so,” he said. “You can see there through the fenestella”—he pointed up through the porthole at the massive docking station looming large above them—“that we’ve just about made it to Solix Sky Station.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you.” A couple of hours. No problem.

  Soon enough, she’d be taking the shuttle to the space station, actually stepping into a world previously only imagined. While surely worth waiting for, and incredibly exciting under different circumstances, she couldn’t escape reality. Soon enough, she’d be returning to an empty home on an unstable planet, with everyone she loved moving on with their own lives a wormhole away.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” the dark man said. “You’re not a Reacher’s child, are you?”

  “Yes. Well, no.” Oh bugger. She’d been purposefully avoiding attention from Reachers or other personnel, her trip to the station not exactly on the up and up. Ask a simple question . . . “He’s my uncle, really. Dugal Colgan?”

  Neyve felt the heat in her cheeks give away her discomfort.

  “Ah, Colgan. Of course. He’s one of my most brilliant bio-engineers. He brought the biome labs online aboard the SS Challenge back in ’92. His niece, you say? Why aren’t you already aboard the ship and in your cryo-bed?”

  “I’m not going to New Eden. I guess Uncle D called me up to say a final goodbye or something. He didn’t tell me the details.”

  Technically true. Any theories of why he’d send for her now, though many and varied, rated as fiction. Still, Neyve couldn’t help but wonder why didn’t he do it two years ago. She and Mirco could have shared a proper goodbye instead of the lack of closure brought by a heart-shattering vid call.

  “Do you mind if I see your spacepass?”

  Bobshite, seriously? Neyve held her hand out so tall, dark and snoopy could see the credentials and ticket digitally printed on her wrist comm, a less fancy version than the UiComms the Reachers used but nicer than most in her neighborhood could afford. She hoped he didn’t notice the slight tremor she couldn’t quite control.

  He scanned her screen.

  Forename: Neyve

  Surname: Colgan

  Cleared: Solix LiftPort, Solix Sky Docking Station, Nautilus-11 Space Station

  See? Same last name and legitimate spacepass. Can I go now?

  Her mental pleas went unanswered, however, as he maintained his grip on her arm and scrolled down with his thumb.

  Reason for Travel: 1-Day Bereavement Pass.

  Unauthorized for Transport: SS Challenge.

  “Ah, I see. I understand you’ve lost a family member.”

  I did? Who else is left? Oh. Clarity. The bunk line her uncle used to get the pass. What could be such a big deal for him to risk deceiving everyone, especially those Reachers he revered, putting in peril a job he’d built his life around?

  The Reacher closely scrutinized her face, waiting for a response.

  Neyve nodded. “I suppose that’s why he’d like me to come up to see him. He’s my last relative,” she added, no intention of elaborating despite the man waiting expectantly.

  “I completely understand,” he finally caved. He probably hoped the offered beaming smile would put her at ease. If anything the squirrels in her stomach picked up their pace. “I’m sure Colgan will be glad to see you one last time. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, finally extricating herself from the uncomfortable conversation and heading for the opposite window. Neyve needed to put space between her and Mr. Too-Many-Questions.

  The reinforced glass felt warm against her forehead as Neyve watched the Earth recede further and further away. Earth, ocean, and clouds all visible to her at this height, she thought she spotted the beginning of sunset a half a world away.

  Adults were conversing behind her, their current topic somewhat racier than appropriate for the general public. Unintentionally eavesdropping, she half-listened to the conversation as it moved on to hushpuppies, catfish, Buenos Ares nightclubs, and moussaka, highlights of the things each crewmember would miss when boarding the Challenge to leave the Earth for the final time. Neyve sourly wondered if she might make her uncle’s list.

  “I’ve asked Kasen to disable the comms in the room.”

  The changed timbre and urgency of the woman’s words were enough to jolt Neyve out of her melancholy reverie.

  “What’s the news?” a male voice asked.

  “Tavian Hunt just sent me an encrypted message.”

  While Neyve didn’t know this person, like at all, the name elicited a pause from the voice replying.

  “Is the SS Challenge’s Cav Drive down?”

  Another pause.

  “Well, no, not yet. It will be soon,” the woman replied, her tone mixing t
repidation and triumph in equal shares. “But that’s the good news.”

  Unable to fight her escalating curiosity, Neyve shifted her position slightly, the warmth on her forehead transferring to the back of her head. Grey eyes slit, her view somewhat obscured by long lashes and her black hair falling in a curtain to half-cover her abysmally pale face, she glanced sideways toward the speaker.

  More Reachers. Their distinctive uniforms matched the gear hanging in her uncle’s closet. Correction: the clothes he used to hang in his closet, before he packed them up for the last time.

  “Out with it, Vida,” the man attached to the voice prompted as the woman, Vida, exhaled raggedly.

  “Just start from the beginning.” The big dark-skinned man she’d spoken to earlier joined the crowd, silent as the night. Ninja skills? Nah. He didn’t strike Neyve as the kind of guy who got ignored.

  “Yes, better to start there. Yesterday Tav heard a rumor that Challenge Command has been bringing people up in the Tolux Sky Elevator lifters at a steady clip for about three weeks.”

  “Did he say who they are? I’ve heard rumors about increased spacecraft activity between the Tolux Sky Elevator and Nautilus-11 in the last couple of weeks. I assumed it was Founder business. I wondered about it but—” Jumbo ninja man frowned.

  “We’ll mutiny before they get away with that.”

  The other man’s bold statement pulled Neyve away from her wandering thoughts and back to the present. Mutiny? Whoa! This conversation suddenly became much more serious, one she should probably not be listening in on.

  “Vida, did Tavian say anything about how they planned to get us off the ship?” the big guy responded, lines of intense concentration etching his brow.

  “Tav didn’t say, but they’ll have a plan. Most likely a ruse. They know we wouldn’t go willingly,” the Reacher scoffed.

  Though the Founders held the power and controlled the resources, everyone knew you didn’t mess with the Reachers. Not only were they the brains of the operation, they provided most of the muscle—didn’t they? For her uncle’s safety, Neyve fervently hoped so.

  Her heart rate began to creep up its pace, responding to the anxiety of a situation she should know nothing about. Yet, glancing around the relatively open space, she could not find a less-than-obvious way out. Remaining as still as possible, she fervently hoped they were wrong. Or at the very least moved the conversation elsewhere.

  “ . . . But that would have taken them months if not years in the planning, which would mean the betrayal goes all the way back to our original contract with the Founding Families.”

  Neyve’s stomach soured, her fingers again finding the pendant at her throat at their own volition. Her boyfriend Mirco—okay, ex-boyfriend by circumstance—flaunted his Abramov surname like a badge. A member of one of the big ten Founding families, they controlled . . . well, just about everything on modern-day Earth. No one thought Neyve should be with him, the upscale guy slumming it with the wild child girl, especially his family. Despite a predisposition to dislike those people in general, Neyve knew her Mirco. No way he’d ever be involved in anything so . . . so wrong. Feeling offended for him, she raised her gaze. Now brazenly observing, she quickly caught back up to the conversation.

  “Don't ask. Plausible deniability is a priceless commodity,” the woman, Vida, ominously suggested. “All you need to know is that I'll have Tavian Hunt take care of it, since he's already aboard the SS Challenge. In fact, I'll Ui him now.”

  “Disabling the drive would buy us time,” the big man conceded as he watch the womans fingers flash over her comm unit. “But to what end?”

  “So you can come up with a brilliant plan to save us all.”

  Neyve didn’t need saving. Without a slot on the dang ship, her fate extended as far as the first missile strike down on the ground. When a person knows they’re going down with their destabilizing planet, the whiney-baby discussion of a bunch of adults being protective over their first class seats becomes less than entertaining.

  Tough luck. You might be stuck here with me.

  “Ah,” the big black man said, avoiding the gaze of the other Reachers who so nicely dumped such a load on him. His penetrating stare eventually landed on Neyve.

  Staring directly back, she wordlessly dared him to respond. Go ahead, her flashing grey eyes taunted. Explain how you’ll save them “all” in front of the girl you know will be left behind.

  Breaking off first, the man collected the attention of his compatriots with a single look, angling his head in Neyve’s direction.

  With all eyes on Neyve now, her eavesdropping career screeched to a halt. Neyve schooled her features into a mask of passive indifference, giving her pendant a final rub before nonchalantly pushing off the glass to get up. Ever-so-casually moving past the group of Reachers, a challenge considering the distinct lack of gravity at this point, she made her way toward her sleep rack to collect her meager possessions.

  Less than two hours to go now. Whatever plans they were making or revolutions they were planning, it definitely fell into the none-of-her-business-and-heck-with-them-anyway category. And it most assuredly didn’t involve her.

  To continue reading Light the Way by Roslyn McFarland, click here!

  Auburn Seal began writing professionally when she found herself standing in the ruins of her previous career as a domestic engineer. Rising from the ashes of a life she hated, she has found solace and a rebirth in writing genre fiction. The primary difficulty she faces now is that genres are like potato chips and she can't settle on only one. Paranormal elements are found in nearly all of her novels and come in all flavors.

  Ghosts add intrigue to her historical mysteries in The Vanishing Series.

  Vampires spice up the new adult romance in The Immortals (a book born out of Auburn's obsession with Damon Salvatore).

  See a more sentimental side of vamps in Kendawyn Paranormal Regency romances, a world that she co-created with Amanda A. Allen and Pamela Welsh.

  Witches brew the solution to murder in the cozy witch mystery, Inconvenient Murder, that Auburn co-authored with Amanda A. Allen in yet another collaboration.

  The pesky rules of science fiction prevented an overt use of paranormal elements in her upcoming novel First Watch, so Auburn added sex, violence, and bad language to fill the void left by absent ghosts, a sensory trifecta for the literary pallet.

  First Watch is one title in a multi-author project Paradisi Chronicles, a post-apocalyptic exodus from Earth and settlement on a distant planet in a far off star system set to launch in September of this year.

  When Auburn isn't learning how to write in every imaginable genre or collaborating with other authors, she spends time with her family watching movies and irritating them with her need to constantly dissect the plot structure of dinosaur blockbusters.

  www.auburnseal.com

  @auburnseal

  www.facebook.com/auburnseal

  More Titles from Auburn Seal

  Paranormal Romance

  The Immortals

  Goodbye Love

  Historical Fiction

  Roanoke Vanishing

  Maya Vanishing

  Cozy Mystery

  Inconvenient Murder

  Sneak Peek of Roanoke Vanishing

  PROLOGUE

  Elinor traveled silently through the night, watching from a distance as the large man shoved the thin girl against the concrete wall, his hands tight around her throat. Closer, she crept toward them. Closer.

  Elinor looked on in disgust. The man quickly overpowered this fragile woman, her abdomen swollen with child.

  His voice roared, shattering the otherwise silent night. “You are dead. Dead! This time you have gone too far.” His mouth foamed and his eyes were cold and bitter. This wasn’t the first time Elinor had seen angry men succumb to their rage.

  “You are a freak. Did you have me followed?” Cristina’s response sounded fearless, but Elinor could see the terror in her eyes. She tried to wrestle
free from his grasp but he only tightened his grip.

  “You are a stupid, stupid woman. I told you to leave this alone. You wouldn’t listen. Now you will pay.”

  Her bravado dissipated, panic creeping into her eyes, and the man continued his ruthless assault, shoving her up against the railing of the dam high above the waters of Lake Mead.

  “But I did leave it alone. I left school. Why did you follow me to Vegas? I left. When I found out I was pregnant, I…I left.”

  The man’s eyes remained unchanged—he had no compassion for this woman.

  “Please, I’m begging you,” she gripped his hand, trying to pull it away from her neck. He squeezed her throat, her voice growing weaker as she pleaded with him.

  “My baby. Please, I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Really, I will. Please…”

  His furious ramblings pierced the cold desert night.

  “You are just like all the rest, Cristina. My mother was the worst of them. Your child isn’t important. She didn’t care about me, and you don’t care about this child. I’m doing both of you a favor.”

  Elinor’s ghostly dress made no sound as she made her way toward the woman. She was close enough now to see the spray of his saliva landing on Cristina’s face.

  If only I could stop him, she thought wistfully.

  The young girl gasped for air as the man in the shadows squeezed the life out of her. She tried to breathe, calling for help in a last effort.

  Elinor stood behind the man, looking into the terrified woman’s eyes, willing her to see, hoping to provide at least a measure of comfort in her final moments.

  Elinor reached out a useless hand, knowing it would not matter, but she couldn’t help herself from making the gesture. Maybe this one time she could help, intervene. Her hand moved right through their bodies. She bowed her head in resignation and despair. How long must she wait here in this world, so aware of pain and suffering yet so unable to stop it?

  The dying woman’s eyes looked right through Elinor, unseeing. An extra curse, she supposed, to see and never be seen.