by Ben Onslow
Trojan Gene
Ben Onslow
Book 1-The Awakening
Published in NZ by Range Road Press, 2016
www.rangeroadpress.co.nz
Copyright © Ben Onslow 2016
www.benonslow.co.nz
ISBN978-0-473-35689-7
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover designed by Kura Carpenter
Trojan Gene
Ben Onslow
Book 1-The Awakening
1. Jack
2. Ela
3. Jack
4. Ela
5. Jack
6. Jack & Nick
7. Jack
8. Jack & Ela
9. The Hospital
10. Jacob’s House
11. Egans
12. Vector
13. The Station
14. The Mountain
15. Drill Site
16. Vandalised
17. Willis Brothers
18. Genus 6
19. The Study
20. The Vault
21. Jacob
22. Scott’s Party
23. The Farm
24. The Message
25. Outpost
26. Pub
27. Pub
28. The Vault
29. Clearing
30. Going Home
31. Pub
32. The Farm
33. Vincent’s Room
34. CatchingFire
35. FireCrew
36. The Station
37. The Station
Book 2
Trojan Gene Trilogy
Insurrection
38. The Barracks
1.
Jack
Saturday 11th Feb 2051
2:10p.m.
It’s just lucky Nick hears the Hovers. We’re right on the bush line, ready to start down the hill, and he signals at me to get down, stay low. Then he drops to a crouch.
“Jack, get my glasses, they’re on top,” he breathes, it’s barely a whisper.
I drop too, ease up to him. Mon’s hackles rise and he skulks back. Lies low, head on paws, back legs ready for action.
I twist enough to flip Nick’s pack open, grab the binoculars, hand them to him, and then move my rifle to scope what’s going on. I can’t see anything unusual.
I watch Nick wipe the lenses with his cuff. He carefully pushes the ferns aside, holds the fronds down, and studies the valley below us. After a while he hands me the binoculars and points down to the farm buildings nestled there.
I glass the valley again. Nick folds his arms and rests his chin on his wrist guard. I still don’t see anything. Then I hear a faint whomp, whomp, whomp, noise.
A hole in the sky appears. I focus on the shimmering.
A StealthHover materialises.
Then another comes out of the air, and another, and another.
They unhaze and settle on the ground in front of the barn.
“Vector,” I say, speaking as quietly as Nick did. This is my fault. I knew they were coming. Nick nods without lifting his head. “We’re too late.”
I hand the binoculars back and ease the rifle into position again. Scope the farm buildings.
There’s a pause. The Hovers lift their wings the way ducks dry their feathers.
And VTroops stream out, black fury, visors hiding their faces, helmets, heavy boots, coats stirring around their legs, armed, no voices, just the sound of the boots echoing up from the valley to the bush line.
The troopers move into position and surround the house.
I’m there beside Nick, flat and silent, watching through the crosshairs.
Five troopers go to the house.
One kicks in the door.
Two come out dragging old man Stevens.
Yelling and screaming echo faintly up at us.
They throw old Stevens on the ground. And he lies there, very still.
Old lady Stevens follows, dragged by two more VTroopers. She gets thrown too. She tries to stand but is hit by the butt of a laser gun, and falls back down, stays as still as the old man.
Then three girls, one around eighteen, come out the door clustered together. A VTrooper walks behind them, laser held ready.
The older girl breaks free of the cluster and runs. A guard grabs her and pushes her back.
It’s all like a Vid with the sound turned down.
Two men dressed differently to the rest, march up to the two old people, stand over them.
And then one of the men standing there, no helmet, coat almost brushing the ground, shoots them.
Just two shots, point blank.
Me and Nick hear the resonance of the girls’ screams float up from the valley.
We’ve watched Vector murder two old people, and there’s nothing we can do about it.
I look at Nick. He’s still staring through the binoculars.
Then the troopers start smashing stuff, systematically demolishing the farm buildings, every glasshouse, every outbuilding, the house, all smashed or burned, completely destroyed.
It doesn’t take long, maybe half an hour at the most.
When they’ve finished, they drag the girls to one of the Hovers. It fills with VTroops. Doors close. The shimmer starts again and slides across the wings until all that is left in the air is a black hole. Then the other three Hovers disappear, leaving broken glass, crushed plants, burning timber.
And the bodies of the two old people, dead in the ruins.
I rest my forehead on my wristband. “I should have come as soon as I knew.” I lie there under the ferns. The evening light filters through the trees.
Nick pushes himself up so he’s sitting. “You said it was just about rogue plants.” He looks as shocked as I am, and sounds accusing.
“Yeah, that’s what Curley’s papers said, and Vector weren’t coming until next month.” I stand. Smoke winds silently across the valley. I pick up my rifle real slow, like its heavy.
Vector just shot old man Stevens and his wife, and took the kids. Me and Nick watched them do it. I knew old Stevens had his grandkids living with him, hiding them OffGrid. I knew this would happen if Vector found the kids.
We didn’t try to do anything to stop it. If I’d come as soon as I found out or even this morning, we could’ve got them away. I shouldn’t have mucked around. We shouldn’t have gone hunting first.
I hang my rifle over my shoulder. If I’d done anything differently I could have stopped this happening.
“Do you think they’ll come back?” asks Nick.
“They haven’t left much to come back for.” I start going down the hill. “I’m going to bury them.”
2.
Ela
Saturday 11th Feb 2051
10:12p.m.
The glass doors whisper closed. Outside the Cineplex, the parking bays are almost empty. White tiles stretch out like glass.
Ela waits for the others and tries to sort out her cloak.
Amon points at these three innocent looking trolleys. “Hey, look at those,” he says.
The trolleys are sitting in the shadows near the HyperMall, not too much shadow, the lights of the City cast a sheen across everything.
“What about them?” asks Ela, still trying to get the cloak on. “They’re trolleys some kid forgot to put away after work.”
“We could race them.”
“Maybe.” She hugs the cloak around her, watches a Humicrib PropagandaVid slide across the sky, two kids waving, smiling, as a flock of plump babies bumble across the ocean. Cute babies. She considers Amo
n’s idea. It’s the sort of idea that gets you into trouble, but old school trolleys that run on wheels, no air assisted hover like most HyperMall trolleys have, looking unloved in a parking bay, are tempting.
“There are only three trolleys, and there are six of us,” says Izzy.
Ela looks over at her, surprised. The Vids – holographic, stereophonic, tactile, interactive – weren’t bad, but Isabelle and Lucan still decided to improve them chemically. It’s a wonder Izzy can talk, let alone count, with the number of bliss drops she’s had.
“One in the trolley, one pushing.” Amon slides his thumb across the ComScreen on his wrist. “You still got that HazeApp on your Coms?” The App activates. “We’ll use this in case the spoil sports turn up.”
That’s Amon, thinks Ela. He downloaded the App a few months ago when he hacked into the second layer of the Administration’s intranet. He wasn’t meant to be there: completely illegal. But that never worries him.
He shimmers like a ghost. She can just see the absence of him. It’s like looking through cut crystal.
“With any luck the spoil sports are at home in bed.” Lucan is shimmering too, the grin visible in his voice.
Ela pulls her Com out, she’s had to learn to bend a few rules when she started spending time with Amon. Finds the App, turns it on. Watches her hands shimmer in the night, then hears a sigh from Damus. He’s never happy about using this App.
“First trolley to get to the other end, then back to the red Eco wins.” Amon waves at the two SelfDrives still in the bays, a red one in the middle and a purple one way over by the stainless barrier.
“Okay.” Ela fishes in her pocket again for a hair tie.
“You’re taking this race seriously.”
She puts her cloak and Com in the trolley, pulls her hair back into a pony tail. “I plan on winning.”
“Yeah, right.”
Isabelle moves to the trolley. “I’ll go with you Ela. Luc can go with Amon.”
“You’ve got a big weight advantage if you take Izzy.” Amon has a point: Isabelle is sixteen too but Isabelle is tiny. Lucan and Amon are a year older, and a lot heavier.
“We could swap.”
“Nah, I’ll still beat you.” He takes off his jacket.
Ela looks a the pants and heavy boots he has on. Heaps of zips and pockets. She has an advantage in a skirt and red Docs.
“In your dreams.” She holds her trolley steady while Izzy climbs in, dark blue cloak wrapped around diaphanous tutu, and ballet flats. The tiny jewels attached to her eyelashes sparkle in the light. The hearts on her cheeks dimple softly. She makes herself comfortable, knees drawn up, leans against the back of the trolley, arms resting on the sides. She turns on the App, and washes out like a watercolour painting.
Damus helps Jadah into a trolley too. They’re no competition,: both gentle studious types. Damus will just dawdle across the parking bays.
Lucan, tawny eyes and dark hair, falls into Amon’s trolley. Gets settled, then grins at Isabelle.
Isabelle grins back. “We’ll win,” she says.
“Yep,” says Ela. Amon and Lucan will really try, Elite don’t take risks, but when the Administration issued that proclamation, they didn’t factor in her and Amon.
They line the wheels up against the wall, hands on the push bars.
“Go around that purple Eco at the end.” Amon points at the EcoSelfDrive by the barrier. “Then finish by the red one in the middle.”
Ela pulls the trolley back a bit ready to explode away the moment she gets the signal. There’s no way Amon’s going to win this. She’d never hear the end of it.
“Ready?” asks Isabelle from the trolley. She pulls off a white lace glove. “Get set.”
Amon and Ela grip the push bars and lean forward.
“Go.” Isabelle drops the glove and it flutters down as they blast away. They race across the parking bays like ghosts, cloud people. The smell of the spent biofuel floats just above the polished tiles, combines with the grind of tortured trolley wheels.
The trolleys make for the purple Eco. Amon and Lucan start to edge away. The wheels screech. The baskets sigh.
“Go Ela,” yells Isabelle. She grips the side of their trolley.
Ela pushes harder, faster. The fronts of the apartment towers lean over and glare. The shuttle rail curves in the distance. The Humicrib babies in the SkyVid, bumble across the ocean.
She starts to catch up to Amon and Lucan. Boots pounding, skirt fluttering, she heads towards the purple blur. A shuttle train on the rail flashes silently past, bullet shaped, faces flicker like white petals behind the glass.
“Cut her off,” yells Lucan. And Amon changes direction, enough to stop Ela getting through. She moves faster. She can get there before him, slide through the gap. The small wheels complain again.
Amon angles in a bit more. She might have to slow down and take the long way. She heads for the opening, slips through the gap, takes the turn, the trolley on two wheels. She’ll make it.
Just as she gets around the Eco, the trolley over balances, topples, and crashes into the purple ESD, gouging it along the side.
Isabelle tumbles out onto the smooth tiles.
The Com in the trolley goes with her and smashes.
The SkyVid changes to a field of Genus 6. Seed heads gently wave in the breeze.
The text, Genus 6 saves the world, floats across the field.
3.
Jack
Saturday 11th Feb 2051
11:10p.m.
It keeps coming back to me. The Stevens place crushed and burned, the old guy and his wife lying dead. I can’t figure out how I’m going to live with this. All me and Nick did was bury them.
We don’t go and see Jacob on the way home. He’s not going to see us wanting to get in a hunt first as a good reason for letting two old people die. My boss’s not big on procrastination.
But Nick doesn’t take off and go straight home like he planned either. He comes back to my place because we need to do something about what’s just happened, but can’t figure out what.
We get to the pub real late.
Nick follows me through the back door. “I think maybe we should try damage control first.”
I nod. “Send ComMails to all the other farms real quick. Warn them about an early visit by Vector, or go and see them.”
“Yeah, and maybe I should check with Curley to see if he’s heard anything.”
“Or we could go see Jacob after all. Ask him what we should do.” But I don’t turn round and go out again, I start upstairs. Try to avoid Mum. Don’t want her to know I’ve just got two old people killed.
“No, not Jacob.” Nick’s just behind me. “Figure we’ll be lucky to survive telling him what’s happened.”
Can’t argue with that.
Mum must have heard us arrive. “Fitzgerald came in earlier, he was here looking for you.”
“Where’s Fitzgerald now?” I ask. Me and Nick are standing there half up and half down the stairs, like neither of us can decide which way to go.
“He said you’re to go to the station as soon as you get back.” Mum studies me standing there on the staircase. That’s what my mum does. Watches me, and then usually has some opinion about my behaviour. “What does he want?”
“Don’t know.” I sound really tired, still standing there, ambivalent.
“Maybe its Fitzgerald we should talk to,” says Nick.
“Yeah.” Fitzgerald’s the local cop. Not Vector. Deals with stuff like drink driving, fights at parties and vandalism. I’ve had a lot more to do with Fitzgerald, over the last few years than Mum’s happy with.
“Are you in trouble again, Jack?”
“Don’t know.”
“What’s gone wrong?”
“Can’t tell you.” Don’t know how much she knows, if she’s in on it or not. I make the decision. “Got to see Fitzgerald.” I figure he had a job to do and he’s all right. He’ll know what we should do. He can be trusted.
I come back down the stairs, Nick follows. Even I know this isn’t the way I usually act, sort of undecided, and Mum’s known me as long as anyone.
Mum stands there watching us. When we’re nearly at the bottom she says quietly, “It’s happening again.” It hits me like an echo. She’s said it as if her heart’s going to break. I heard her sound like that before Dad left.
I go down the last step. Walk over to Mum. Put my arms around her the way she used to with me. “It’s okay Mum, I’m just the messenger boy.”
But Mum doesn’t buy that. She’s holding on to me like she’s not planning on letting go. “Jack, whatever Jacob and Fitzgerald have planned for you, tell them you won’t do it.” Her voice is muffled, her head against my shoulder. “I can’t lose you too.”
“They aren’t planning anything. I’m just the messenger boy,” I say again.
“Be careful.”
“I’m just helping Jacob, send out warnings, plant the seeds, and feed the dogs.”
Mum sort of laughs into my shoulder like she doesn’t believe me.
“Yeah, right,” she says, trying to sound tough. “Be careful.”
“Okay, got to go. Got to see what Fitzgerald wants.”
Mum lets go and stands back. “And when you talk to him, tell him there are a few things going on here he should know about. He should call in tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
We go back out to the Land Rover, and me and Nick drive to the Police Station.
“Ready to face him?” I say to Nick.
“Do you think he knows about the Stevens?”
“Yeah, and if he doesn’t we’re going to have to tell him.”
“Will he blame us?”
“I don’t know about you.” I breathe in and straighten up. “But it was me who was meant to warn them.” I figure I might be going to my own execution.
Fitzgerald’s sitting at his desk. Nobody else is at the station, just him. The desk’s sagging under the weight of the papers on it. He’s looking pretty tired and stressed. Uniform’s crumpled like it’s had a long day.