Variant: A Sci-Fi Romance (Variant Trilogy Book 1)

by J. Q. Baldwin

  Copyright Notice

  Variant

  Book One

  ©J.Q. Baldwin 2018

  The Australian Copyright Act 1968, specifically Part III, Division 1—Nature, duration and ownership of copyright in works - prevents the reproduction, in whole or in part by any means, including electronically, without express written permission from the copyright owner. The Copyright Act 1968 extends protection in any other country which is party to copyright treaties with Australia, including the United States of America and the United Kingdom.

  These works are fictional and any resemblance to person (s), living or dead, are purely coincidental and are productions of the author’s imagination. Mature themes are expressed and are intended for audiences over the age of 18.

  Cover Design by Melody Simmons

  Variant

  Chapter One

  Superhero? Hardly. Humanitarian, I’m not. Soldier, maybe. Delilah Gracer, Soldier – yeah, that worked. It still felt inadequate somehow. Honestly, I barely considered myself a part of humanity. Created by them, yes. One of them, No.

  A twenty-first century geneticist proclaimed: so far there had been three distinct stages of medicine in our history. One: the germ theory which brought about the prevention of disease and pestilence through sanitation. Two: vaccination. Three: Well, that age began when a Japanese physicist declared the natural progression from cloning sheep was the production of cloned organs and genetic manipulation. He hypothesised that someone, nearing fifty in his time would, with medicinal assistance, live until the ripe age of one hundred and fifty - a grand but horridly foreign idea to most back then. He guaranteed that thereafter we would see the emergence of a new of Homo Sapiens Sapiens – Homo Sapiens Variance CC ; a new breed of stronger, smarter and healthier humans.

  I did not feel too smart today.

  If I could warn the past I would tell them that technology only advanced enough to eventually destroy itself. My time was not some grand utopia of clean lines and bustling economies. No. I walked through the mists on the grimy streets that had little to do with the cold and more to do with lingering atomic ash, where public transport whales cluttered the underbelly of my city like bloated carcasses.

  Our world crumbled and people walked with their heads down. People who’d shutter themselves inside when trouble arrived like some cliché western, and didn’t care to know their neighbours let alone the rest of the world.

  I didn’t care to save the crumbling remains of our world either. I was simply a third generation, engineered human with a few debilitating abilities, trying to find my own little place among the depressed throng of others, to hide if I was honest, and I’d moved in to it early last week.

  It was dilapidated. The whole apartment complex slanted to the right, noticeably sinking due to bomb explosions and unstable foundations. The open parking garages below barely covered head height, the building had sunk so far. Puddles of polluted water on cratered concrete tinged the air in a foul musk but my second floor, one bedroom unit was all mine for thirty Interancies a week - Our international currency. I compared our currency and government to my new dwelling: broken and corrupt.

  My new dwelling - home, if I ever got used to calling it that had everything I needed. Oh, the water and gas shorted out, and the wiring was faulty but those were nothing a girl couldn’t fix with a little determination. I had a sardine small balcony with a pot plant drooping and grey in the corner, desperate for a new owner, and a magnificent view of a brick wall. Beautiful.

  I plonked onto my ratty couch, splaying myself luxuriously before wrapping my childhood orange, pink and gold Indian ruggie around me. My mind quietly worked on whether I had made the right decision. He would find me eventually. My fight for independence hadn’t even begun yet. Was I deluding myself into thinking I could not feel panic slick icy waters down his spine this very moment?

  No.

  I can do this, I promised myself.

  “Del Flower. You. Can. Do. Thi -”

  Banging fists pummelled my front door instead of chiming the intercom. Was the electricity playing up again today? Startled out of my pep talk, I concentrated. It wasn’t the movers. I snorted a breath of derision. Movers. I had only brought one bag of clothes and one box of keepsakes. I’d edged my way out of home like backing away from a predator. I held a shaky treaty with Onyxeal and I didn’t trust them entirely not to rescind, fixing fate.

  I sat up then, and bent over to scrutinize the shadows under the door whilst sliding a dagger from my boot but re-thought that when the conversation outside screamed ‘neighbours’. And I was one part ready, another part…

  “She’s only just moved in. You’re such a nosy bitch, Lolly.”

  “It’s called polite not nosy, I’ll have you know and she’s been here nearly two weeks!” Lolly sounded like she had her hand on her hip, hissy in indignation. I had heard them of course since I’d arrived but I had been carefully skirting any interaction. Had I always been so anxious? I did want ‘normal’, didn’t I? That’s what life could grant me, away from Him.

  “Why, I can’t see a fruit basket. You hiding one under the girls?” the male half of the pair cracked sardonically.

  “Argh, you’re a dick Marsh!” I heard a mock slap. “And no, nothing more could fit into this bra, let me tell ya.” Her shadow shuffled under the door - Lolly re-adjusting ‘the girls’.

  More banging.

  I’d been alone at Onyxeal. No, not alone. Lonely. Isolated.

  That was past.

  If I ignored them maybe I’d never have to deal with people here, but that wasn’t what I wanted from life. Lolly? She had nosy down to an art and it kind of endeared me to her. It had been a little cat and mouse game keeping a step ahead of her every time she’d tried to catch up to me in the building. She ran like a baby goat. More quirky than a lamb, and had a little hop to her.

  Flaws were relatable and I had many. I told myself once again, “I am out, I am out. I am entitled to a life.”

  I slid the door open halfway. I assumed they were the type to barge right on through if not stopped. I left one foot holding the frosted carbon fibre door, while I took in the appearance of my new neighbours.

  Lolly, seemed momentarily shocked, taking a step back, then hand on hip, inspected me as well.

  Lolly was big breasted. I understood the statement now I was up close, about fitting nothing else in that bra. Layered in so many clothes though, it amplified the size of her chest two fold. Still, I was surprised I even had a chance to be dumbfounded by her boobs because her cacophony rainbow clothing exploded like a supernova, blinding me; indigo bleeding into orange and lime green strips of material hiding her slight pot belly. Beaded bangles, leather bracelets, and twenty necklaces of all kinds hung heavy around her throat. The overall picture: a highlighted bohemian princess.

  Crucial first moments passed while my pupils contracted, zooming in at the detail I was trained to recognise, though her inverted face had already sparked my recognition last week. Intrigued, I stared into each thread, each new texture; sparks flying off the gold tassels dangling from her vest, midnight silver webbing laced hip to ankle on sunburnt tights.

  “Like what ya see Sweetness?” Lolly asked with a smirk.

  I was staring at my new neighbours boobs and thighs.

  “Yes. Can I feel? Might have to buy some. Small is over-rated,” my eyebrow raised as I calmly shifted my bangs from my eyes.

  I wondered if her smirk meant she’d been convinced I had romantic intentions because of my fascination with her boobs. Did she find such attentions offensive? Or was it a joke? Perhaps she used sarcasm to hide her i
nsulted emotions. I decided to go with joke. I was treading water here. I really should have interacted with my peers during my sojourn at high school.

  Profile a person, check.

  Interact, no.

  Marsh burst into laughter, banging his palm on the sad, peeling wall he’d been leaning against. “Oh, I like her,” he thumbed at me. Lolly harrumphed, folding her arms under her chest.

  “Quick come in then, I’ll get my pants off!” I cracked.

  Lolly disentangled her frown into a pretty lilt. “Not necessary, today Neighbour,” she assured me.

  I shucked. “Well, what can I do for you today?”

  As I felt awkwardness second guess my playful response to my neighbours I revised Ava’s advice on the difference between missions, life, and personal relationships. Primarily, the fact that I was entitled to them. It simply began with that ability to relate to another person.

  I shared Lolly’s triangle face shape. The regular population rarely exhibited the supplementary facial recognition processing function that recalled faces like mine. Studies showed other face shapes were much more accessible to memory. And the lack of this additional processing system made our shared face shape as difficult to recall as a sign you passed, at speed, a decade ago. So our shared face type was, I believed, a subtle evolutionary jump.

  I was notably more diminutive than the pretty pout and fluro flag before me though. Not child-like, but unassuming and small in a crowded, parsimonious world. My dark bangs and feathered lengths forged an unrecognisable face into even further obscurity. It was the world I felt most comfortable in.

  I had spent the last six months travelling the globe before finally deciding to formally become independent and I’d fallen into the throng of humanity easily then with no fear of how to interact on a personal level - probably because I’d felt no reason to interact personally. That difference now became stark. Here. With neighbours. But I would learn. I would become a chameleon in this world, like the last, lest he find me, lest I never get this chance again.

  Marsh was dressed in a simple navy tee, reproduction denim shorts that advertised more than hid muscled thighs, and runners. In clothing, the two friends were universes apart. And again I struggled to understand the personalities as a neat pairing although, Marsh, I decided was likeable in that puppy-dog-eyed kind of way: easy, trusting nature. He was certainly not unfortunate looking and had, scarred hands – hard working hands that reeked of the luxury, pine. I suppose I liked his first impression too. Like a rebel, or a eupho junkie or a cadet, he was a much simpler creature than Lolly.

  “Welcome party,” Marsh apologized, holding up a plastic container I assumed to be synthetic alcohol. He should apologise. I could smell it from where I stood; tangy and watered down with mud.

  “In that case...”

  Spartan had threatened to not let me escape. I expected he watched me enter the building the first day in fact, but even with him weighing me, interpreting my every move I would trust his honour - and his arrogance – with my location, if not my guaranteed faux pas as I found a semblance of normalcy here with humans.

  Just the thought of that bastard made me twinge from the physical hurt of his betrayal. And it was so fresh my skin felt red and abraded. He’d been a man I believed I could count on in life, not for safety perhaps, but for loyalty. True, devout loyalty, the kind he demanded from me. He’d not deserved it.

  I’d not trust so easily again.

  I let my foot grind along the floor, away from the door after my new neighbours entered.

  “That’s one heavy door stop ya got there Sweet,” Lolly noted as she sashayed past me into my apartment.

  I made no comment and was simply glad my heavy foot, concealed in military style shit kickers, escaped any attention.

  The two made themselves comfortable on my couch without being told. I found it strangely charming they were raised without strict manners. I found their naivety troublesome however. Quite possibly Lolly and Marsh were not the sharpest knives in the practice dummy or they were unnaturally trusting. I told myself I was not paranoid, simply suspicious by nature.

  “This is Lolly,” Marsh pointed to the superhero.

  I guess that made him the sidekick.

  “Take no notice of the charm, she’s a bitch to live with,” he told me half seriously with a glint of affection in his eyes.

  “And this is Marshall -I’ve got a big dick – Slade,” Lolly backhanded him across the chest.

  “You’re just jealous I won’t give it to you,” Marsh replied grinning. “So you got a name, Neighbour?” he asked, turning that grin on me. I wasn’t fooled and felt relief that perhaps this would simply be an encounter like many others at the barracks.

  “Delilah,” I said simply.

  “Like the flesh eating orchid?” Lolly grimaced like she imagined one growing up her spray-on tights.

  “Carnivorous yes. Flesh eating, no,” I corrected, slightly insulted folding my own arms. That a genetic botanist’s wife had died from the new plant was not any reason to fear me, that Carne probably had some asinine reason for associating me with a carnivorous plant that flowered rarely and was picky with prey was not worth mentioning. He’d been young at the time, but his thoughts had always been complex and interlaced.

  “I think it’s pretty,” Marsh winked.

  “Don’t even think it Marshall Slade,” Lolly scolded. “You leave the girl alone. No deflowering,” she pointed her finger at him.

  “Where would you get an idea like that Lolly?” Marsh protested light-heartedly, gleefully, evilly.

  “Tell me if he comes on to you, Delilah, and I’ll cut it off him while he’s sleeping,” Lolly smiled evilly at Marshall, her fingers scissoring the air.

  “You would too, wouldn’t you, Tart?” Marsh eyed her warily, the moniker some sort of strange endearment off his tongue.

  She took it as such, her face softening with affection.

  “You better believe it Mister.” Lolly flicked her mermaid hair.

  “The last girl he duped was calling for a month, blaming me for his indiscretions,” she whispered to me, incredulous.

  “So, got any glasses Delilah? We’ll get this house warming party started,” Marsh pronounced, holding up their gift.

  “Ah, no. Well I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “It was supposed to be furnished but I haven’t had a chance to do much…” I looked around the sparse living room. Truthfully I had exactly one cup and one plate with utensils and that came from my own survival pack. That was not information I thought prudent to mention.

  “Not to worry, I’ll race over to our apartment and grab some,” Marsh offered, leaving for the door.

  “Get the good ones,” Lolly called as he pressed the door’s button.

  The door slid open and Marsh barrelled out. And then bounced off the chest of the man on the other side.

  Chapter Two

  “Oomph,” Marsh landed on his arse. “What the, sorry man, didn’t see you - ” his voice loitered in the air as he looked up. And up.

  I snapped to attention.

  Spar-tan, I said in my head instead of aloud to fight off the dogged training ritual.

  I stood at ease, purposefully belligerent.

  Lolly came around me and bent to gather Marsh up off the floor, nervously glancing between me and my guest as her butterscotch tresses curtained her face. Marsh brushed Lolly off to stand alone. Her smile was slightly hurt, it slipped for a moment, but I understood. I’d seen men of all kinds try to stand next to Spartan; tried and failed.

  As thick and solid as a hundred year old tree, he stood. Tattoos travelled his throat from clavicle to clavicle in a chunky collar. Unerringly still, he glared at my company is if trying to shoot fireballs out of his mad eyes. There was a sparkle in them that was not quite happiness and Marsh visibly flinched then stepped backwards, as one would from a deranged soul.

  Spartan could not hide that note of thrill that spiked his blown pupils from me.
Even when I knew it was not a conscious mannerism it still sent the hairs on my arm lifting like spiderlings exploding off a mother Wolf Spider’s back. Even so, I moved closer, manipulated Marsh and Lolly to the side and lifted my chin.

  “Delilah. You have company.” He said, ‘company’ like anyone said, ‘bug’.

  “Yes,” You knew that, I said. Listen at the door for long? I pursed my lips in irritation. Polite chitchat with neighbours I should never have let in would classify as dereliction of duty in Spartan’s skewed view. Spartan’s personal rule was to never let anyone too close. Paranoia’s claws comforted him habitually. Too bad my mentor and squad leader applied that rule to me as well.

  “Long enough,” he gruffed. Long enough to know I was failing his teachings.

  Lolly fidgeted, uncomfortable and confused. “Ah, Delilah, Marsh and I might grab those glasses and leave you to the eye candy,” she told me anxiously.

  I had watched out of my peripheral vision as Lolly’s facial expressions slowly morphed. She’d come to the realisation that I might be someone who knew men in the guise of serial killers. Someone not to trust. I sighed shallowly, disappointed.

  “It was nice to meet you both,” I said stiffly as they shuffled quickly out the door allowing Spartan and the man hidden behind his colossal frame to gain the apartment fully.

  Spartan was still as imposing as ever and larger than the myth I’d first heard as a child, but I knew this man. Better than he realised. Maybe the same could be said in reverse - one of the reasons I’d left.

  There was a moment of silence while the three of us listened to Lolly and Marsh’s footsteps retreat. There had been times where I’d hung from chafed raw wrists, my tiny body twitching with residual electricity, as we’d listened to Spartan’s soft footfalls melt away in the darkness. It’s a temporary pain; a mantra belting between Carne and I, binding us.

  “What are you doing here,” I demanded on a hiss.

  Spartan studied me then, tilting that rock of a head just so. I forced myself to not feel like a tantruming child under his assessment. Emotional outbursts were not common for me and he seemed to be processing, logging this information. It was a hard thing to stand there. If it were possible for me to sweat profusely, I would be.