Eomix Galaxy Books
Sequel to ILLUSION
(Book 2 of 2)
Christa Yelich-Koth
Buzz & Roar Publishing
This book is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Eomix Galaxy Books: IDENTITY
Copyright © 2016 by Christa Yelich-Koth
All rights reserved.
Published by Buzz & Roar Publishing, LLC
St. Paul, MN USA
www.buzzandroarpublishing.com
ISBN: 978-0-9883470-7-6
First Printing: September 2016
Printed by CreateSpace
Cover art: Conrad Teves
THANK YOU’S
A huge thanks to you, the reader, for bringing my story into your life and wanting more.
Sandra Yelich: For your constant support, feedback, and editing. You helped make Daith’s world a reality.
Tom Koth: For your amazing encouragement and insight.
Conrad Teves: For bringing my cover idea to life.
Jessica Therrien and Kat Ross: For being part of such an incredible editing team!
And last, but not least, thanks to Stu Tighe: I’m still surprised at how I can be a writer and fail to find words to express your importance to me and this book’s journey.
Look for other stories in the Eomix Galaxy!
Eomix Galaxy Books (novels):
ILLUSION (Book 1 of 2)
IDENTITY (Book 2 of 2)
COILED VENGEANCE
Graphic Novel:
HOLLOW
Comic Books:
HOLLOW’S PRSIM SERIES (6 issues total)
Issue #1: Aftermath
Issue #2: Reunion
Issue #3: Alliance
Issue #4: Trigger
Issue #5: Revelations
Issue #6: Fusion
Daith ignored the chimes to her quarters, along with the tendril of fear climbing her spine. She adjusted her posture, feet tucked underneath her butt, back straight.
A darkened datapad lay in her hand—its smooth surface reflected the lights above her, set into her room’s ceiling. They shone bright white, illuminating the grey walls, metallic bed, and deep red carpet. Daith’s dark hair lay over her pale shoulders, highlighted by the harsh lights. Recirculated air hissed quietly through the vents.
Irritated, Daith pushed her hair behind her, her focus broken for a moment.
She closed her eyes and concentrated, letting her power fill her. Heat throbbed inside her gut, crawling through her insides like a flame climbing a tree. The fire filled her arms and trickled down into her fingers. She directed the energy into the datapad, searching for the pathways that would lead her to the information stored on the device without having to turn it on.
The datapad’s surface bubbled and melted, its insides crackling. With a growl, she twisted the device and the plastic piece grew gooey under her fingertips, stretching apart.
A drop of blood slid from her nose, trickling over her lips. It hung for a moment on the edge of her chin before it dripped to the floor.
The chimes rang again. Daith’s forehead creased.
“What?” she snapped at the interruption. Eyes now open, she hastily brushed the blood from her face. She moved her knee to cover the spot on the floor as her visitor entered.
“Daith?”
“Yes, Trey?” she asked, looking up at him from the floor.
Trey cleared his throat, his dark blue eyes narrowed, searching. “How are you?” He stood tall and straight, his uniform pressed, his short, brown hair cropped and neat.
Daith tossed the destroyed datapad towards a pile on the floor in front of him before reclosing her eyes. Clattering filled the quiet room as the datapad bounced off of the others, all half-melted in the same fashion. “I’m fine.” She heard him shuffle his feet as he moved toward the datapads. She could picture his perfectly polished shoes, a contrast to the worn carpeting.
“This looks promising, but Daith—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “We only have two standard weeks left. I’m working on it.”
Trey muttered something she couldn’t understand before she heard the door slide closed.
Daith expelled a breath in the now empty room.
She knew Trey expected her abilities to have progressed. During several sessions with her previous doctor, Dru, she discovered she had unique mental and emotional powers, but without him to guide her, she didn’t know how to learn anything new.
And her attempts to do more came at a price. Her headaches, nose and ear bleeds, and irritability had increased since she started working on her own four standard days ago.
Since Dru’s death.
A tickle of sadness touched her throat, but anger swiftly took over. Emotional motivation should enhance her abilities. She learned that anger made her more powerful and fear more precise. But no matter how she pushed herself, she couldn’t do any more than what she already learned with Dru—heal herself, destroy inanimate objects, and sense basic emotions and thoughts from others.
If she planned to help Trey stop the Controllers—those who killed her family and murdered Dru—she had to be able to do more. Who knew what they might be up against, what type of fight the Controllers would bring? She needed to be ready for whatever they threw at her.
And the clock seemed to tick faster and faster.
Daith palmed the wet rag next to her and rubbed at the spot on the carpet—the cloth already spotted red from her previous work during the day. She picked up the next datapad.
The tendril of fear crept once more.
*
Commander Trey Xiven blew a frustrated breath through his teeth. The air whistled in the vacant corridor outside Daith’s quarters. What under the stars was he going to do?
He strode through the familiar hallways of the Horizon, toward his office, located two decks below him on the five-level spaceship. He focused on the problem at hand—the hum of the ship’s engines background noise to his thoughts.
How could he accomplish anything if his weapon didn’t work?
Trey entered his office through the swish of the opening door. He took a seat behind his smooth, metallic desk, polished free of prints and dust, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. A blinking light caught his attention, indicating a message on his vidlink.
Trey’s stomach unclenched with hope and he let the recording play.
The screen filled with the image of a stunning woman—skin white as stars, hair ebony with subtle rainbow highlights, and eyes black like the emptiness of death.
“Commander Xiven,” the woman said, her voice sultry, but forceful. “I have entered the coordinates to meet your courier. The six ships promised to assist you will be there. Once your payment clears, the fleet will escort the courier to the designated time and place for the final demonstration. Exarth out.” The vidscreen went blank—the message deleted immediately from the sender’s side.
Trey’s stomach dropped as Exarth’s video ended. He hoped the call had been Kircla, the assassin he hired four days ago to kill a witness from when his crew abducted Daith. Kircla said it wouldn’t take long, so why hadn’t he heard from her yet? With her background qualifications, he’d invested a lot of money into securing her services.
Not that Trey could give Kircla much of a description of her target except a blond haired, caramel-skinned male who attended the same school as Daith.
Still…he hoped to have heard back by now.
Regardless, Exarth’s continuance with the contract bode well. Although Trey wondered what her wrath
would be if he couldn’t produce on his end of the deal.
How could he push Daith, make her abilities progress, without her losing control? Trey’s head pounded at his cluttered thoughts. He hadn’t been sleeping well, not since the old recurring nightmare of his mother’s death returned. He started taking dream-deflector pills again, but Daith needed them as well.
If only Doctor Ludd was still around…. But it was no use. Doctor Ludd had fled, having a change of heart about the entire operation. Without the good doctor, Trey didn’t know where to get a fresh supply of the illegal medicine. Once they ran out, Daith would begin to dream again, and may remember her identity, which would destroy everything he had worked to accomplish. Trey only hoped they could both make it through the next two standard weeks.
After they reached Sintaur, dreams would be the last thing either of them would care about.
Smoke.
Heat.
Darkness.
He couldn’t see. He couldn’t move.
He couldn’t breathe!
Torrak Spirtz gasped as he emerged from unconsciousness. Bright yellow lights and the smell of heavy-duty cleaners overwhelmed his senses.
“What’s going on? Where am I?”
A pair of pale green eyes looked at him from underneath a mop of curly red hair. “You’re in Fior General Medical Center.”
Torrak glanced at his friend. “Kalil? What am I doing in the hospital?”
“A student on campus found you lying in a field. Your burns were so bad, the physicians couldn’t identify you. They called Central Authority, who tracked you down through the school, and then they contacted me since we’re roommates.” Kalil pursed his lips and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. “The doctors tried to make me seem like the bad guy, asking why I hadn’t filed a report you were missing. I told them you planned to stay at the Academy’s Study Quarters until finals were over. Like I knew you were in a hospital for the past three weeks.”
Torrak could hear the guilt in his friend’s voice. “What did the doctors say after that?”
“Not much. Mostly mumbled under their breath.” Kalil paused. “So what happened to you?”
Torrak rubbed his fingers over his caramel-colored arms, a crusted mess from the applied anti-burn medication. “I—I don’t know. I don’t really remember.”
“The field looked like it had caught on fire. But why would you have walked into it?”
“I didn’t. I mean, I was there already and then—then I felt heat and dust and—and she screamed!” Torrak jerked into a sitting position. Memories slammed into him, disjointed like jagged chunks of rock.
He’d been walking with someone, her face blurred, and then a silver ship landed in front of them. Two men emerged from the craft in blue jumpsuits—one a huge man, like a solid wall, the other tall and thin. They pushed him aside, and rushed toward his friend, grabbing her. His memory of their faces distorted into wavy lines when she stood nearby. Torrak regained his balance and one of them restrained him—the behemoth. The woman screamed for help, her face a shapeless impression. He remembered trying to get up when a blow from behind forced him back to his knees.
Then she was gone. Torrak recalled the flash of a yellow syringe and a sharp pain in his arm. The huge man grinned—full lips chapped and flaky. He remembered thick, yellow liquid, full of orange blobs, dripping off his elbow.
The memories became erratic after that. Torrak remembered running into a field of tall grass. Lying down. A skull-shaking hum. A wave of heat. His arms and legs felt limp, unable to hold up his body. They sunk into the dry dirt, kicking up clouds of dust.
And then blackness.
Torrak realized unconsciousness must have engulfed him at that point. He tried to remember the name of the girl he’d been with, but to no avail. The events floated away from him when he tried to grasp them. Except one image of terror etched onto the girl’s face.
That he saw with perfect clarity.
Torrak had to find her, to help her, though he had no idea where to start. All he knew was a small ship had taken her.
“That must have been how the fire started—the grass must have lit when the ship took off.”
“What under the stars are you talking about?” Kalil asked.
Torrak fought with the covers to get out of the bed. “The ship—it took her—she was kidnapped—and I saw it—”
“Slow down. You’re doing that ‘speaking too fast’ thing again. Help who? Who are you talking about?”
“I need to get out of here first. I’ll explain later. Let’s go home. I need to use your computer system.” Torrak struggled into the clean clothing Kalil had brought. His arms and legs wobbled under his weight, the muscles atrophied from lying in the hospital bed for three weeks.
“You know you’d have better luck if you put the pants on one leg at a time,” Kalil joked.
“Will you sign me out of here so we can go?”
Kalil flinched at the harshness of Torrak’s words. “What are you yelling at me for? I just want to know what’s going on.”
“I will tell you when we get home. I just need to think.”
“Fine.”
Unusually silent for the two talkative friends, the ride home consisted of Kalil fuming on one side of the vehicle and Torrak mentally urging him to go faster on the other. Torrak’s head spun, a feeling he wasn’t used to. Normally able to figure out complex puzzles and situations, he found it unnerving to have parts within his memories missing.
They finally arrived at the small, white, domed two-bedroom house—standard living quarters for Academy students. The two walked straight past Torrak’s room decorated in beiges, tans, and browns, into Kalil’s. Clashing bright colors covered each wall.
Torrak walked over to the right wall, trying to ignore the dizzying green and magenta stripes, and initiated a computer program. A large, holographic screen came up.
“Okay I need your help now,” Torrak said.
Kalil set his jaw.
“I don’t have time for this. Are you going to help me or not?”
Kalil crossed his arms, still silent.
“What is your problem? Why won’t you just help me?” Torrak felt furious, but not really at Kalil. He was angry with himself for letting his friend get kidnapped, for almost getting himself killed, for putting Kalil through the worry about what had happened to him, and for not being able to remember almost anything.
“You finished with your temper tantrum?” Kalil asked.
Torrak opened his mouth to yell and then closed it with a click of his teeth. He forced out a long breath. “I’m sorry.”
Kalil’s tone softened. “What’s going on?”
Torrak recounted what he could remember. He tried not to let himself get too frustrated with the fact he couldn’t remember everything. “I need to find this friend of mine, a girl, but I can’t remember her name. I know you have some kind of locator program that can help me.”
“Shouldn’t we contact Central Authority to report the kidnapping?”
“I don’t want to bother them if she’s home safe and sound. Besides, what can I report? Some girl got kidnapped three weeks ago? ‘No, officer, I don’t know her name or where she lives or how I know her.’ Yeah, that won’t get an immediate vidlink disconnect. I used to deal with reports like this all the time and more often than not the missing individual was just fine.”
“I guess it won’t hurt to find out who she is and if she’s home first.” Kalil activated the search program. “Okay. I need you to describe her with the best detail possible.”
“Well she probably attended the Academy since the field they found me in is right off campus.”
“And what does she look like?”
“Long, brown hair and green eyes. Pale skin.” He looked up at Kalil whose fingers flew over the flashing buttons.
Kalil entered the parameters and waited a few moments. He frowned at the results. “There are seventy-one matches of women with brown hair and green eyes
at the Academy. We can either go through them all, or else you have to give me something else.”
Torrak stopped to think. “Maybe we had a class together?”
“Hold on. I’ll cross reference this with your schedule,” said Kalil. Tracing his finger along the holographic screen, he eliminated a couple of the options and highlighted a few others. “Okay. That brings us down to thirteen matches. Let’s see if she’s here.”
“That’s her,” Torrak said at the ninth picture. “That’s the one.” He looked up at her name. “Daith Tocc. I can’t believe I forgot her name.”
“Daith was kidnapped? You didn’t tell me that!”
“I didn’t know it was her, remember?” Torrak snapped.
“Sorry...it’s just... you talk about her all the time. Well her and her sister. I figured this was some random girl you saw while walking by, not Daith.”
Now that he’d seen her face, bits of memories sparked inside Torrak’s mind. He remembered dinners at Daith and her sister, Valendra’s, house. He remembered laughing in class. He remembered her reluctance at wanting to meet Kalil or any of Torrak’s friends, though she never specified why. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Well you did almost get burned alive. Maybe you hit your head on a rock or something in the field?”
Torrak thought about it. “Maybe. Something feels wrong though. All the events feel blurred—like a bad vidlink connection. I remember some things and not others. Like I can picture her face from that instant, but right now, I can’t seem to remember anything else about her. I can remember the man who tackled me, but whenever Daith is in the scene, he and the other man’s faces look hazy and distorted. Everything that happened is perfectly clear, except when she was there.” Torrak stared at the picture. “You know, they did inject something into my arm.”
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