“We have to get your father to the hospital, if it’s still standing,” she muttered to herself while trying to arrange his hair.
“There’s something down there,” he pointed with his new arm. “It’s not a person.”
“Did you touch it?” Dolores asked, firmly taking his hand. Mothers tend to know things without being told. He didn’t say anything but looked down, he couldn’t lie to her and he couldn’t tell her the truth either. So he shrugged his shoulders while shifting his weight onto his other hip. They heard engines. Dolores lifted Allister into her arms with the strength only a mother conjures when protecting her child. She reached the edge of the woods and set him down.
“Holy fuck! Over here,” someone yelled. “Call Captain Delemar. We found it.”
Dolores covered Allister’s mouth and maneuvered them behind a large sycamore tree. The men patrolled by, even closer than they sounded, one of them passing on the outside of the tree protecting them. A few others exited the house, looking for clues as to the motivation and level of access Neight had given Patrick. She pulled Allister’s head into her bosom and kissed him on the forehead.
“Stay here,” she said. Allister obeyed her and wrapped his arms around his legs for comfort.
Dolores approached the situation with extreme caution.
“Didn’t think I’d see your pretty face again so soon, Miss Adams,” Nicolas jeered from behind her. She nearly reached Patrick’s body and refused to turn around.
“That’s Mrs.,” she corrected him.
“Not by the looks of it.” he joked. The soldiers rushed to grab her before she made a run for her fallen love.
“No!” She protested, “Get your hands off me.” Her bare foot caught one of the soldiers in the shin.
“Shut up,” Nicolas told her.
“Go to hell you piece of shit,” Dolores replied.
He pulled out a gun and held it to Patrick’s head. “I said shut up!”
“Why’re you doing this to us? We haven’t done anything.” She broke into a tantrum like an unfairly punished child.
“Haven’t done anything?” Nicolas asked her, walking forward. “Your husband has singlehandedly ruined my career, potentially given my daughter a death sentence. I’m not going back to the directors empty-handed. Allister, if you want your mother and father to live, you better come out right now.”
“Don’t move!” she screamed. “He’ll kill us either way.”
“What…do you want?” Patrick mumbled on his stomach. “Leave…my family….alone, Nicolas.” He pulled the small metal piece from his back. Even with massive blood loss he stood behind the captain. “Hey…look at me. I’m…talking to you…asshole. This is…all your fault.”
Allister emerged from his hiding place and crept toward what unfolded ahead.
Nicolas reached his breaking point. “You’re useless now. Neight’s dead and I’ve got nothing to show for all of this money you wasted. And guess what? You get off. No punishment for treason. No termination. While I have to go face the directors, alone. Tell my daughter she only has five years to live. I’ll say it one more time since no one seems to get it, this is my fucking life. I’m not going back empty-handed!” The defeat and desperation in his voice was almost sad.
“I saved…this country,” Patrick said as he stumbled over.
“Patrick don’t,” Dolores muttered.
“Take one more step and you die first,” Nicolas readied the gun.
“I’ll go with you,” Allister yelled, walking into the open. “Please don’t hurt them.”
“That’s a good boy.” But the soon-to-be-general wasn’t satisfied.
“Please…the ship, it’s there…you have everything you need. Leave…my son.” Patrick collapsed onto his knees.
“You’re pathetic.” Nicolas stood above the barely living husband and father. “I don’t know what that alien saw in you.”
“Kill him already,” one of the soldiers said.
“No!” Dolores sobbed out loud with one hand outstretched. “I can get him help, let me…save him…please.”
Allister froze with fear, a thing he’d never let happen again.
“I’m sorry, Dolores…Allister, I lo—” Patrick started to say but a single gunshot took the spotlight. Square in the skull.
“Guess I’ll handle it after all,” Nicolas said, thinking back to the conversation with the US director.
Patrick fell back against the pavement dead and Dolores bawled for a full minute crumbling into herself, too weak to throw off the soldiers detaining her.
“Come with me or your mother’s next,” he said.
Allister’s entire body tensed the closer his father’s killer got to him. Dolores’s mouth dropped, the men loosened their grip and she ran in the opposite direction.
“Sir, he’s,” a soldier said, uninterested in Dolores’s escape.
“I can see what he’s doing, I’m not blind.” Nicolas stopped advancing.
Allister ran forward screaming at the top of his lungs and threw his hands out, an energy wave exploded from him knocking out all of the soldiers. “Oh my God,” Dolores mouthed as he performed his feat. The bright light evaporated. He sat in the middle of the street with his shoulders hunched, Patrick’s body a few feet from him.
Allister screamed out “no” in between crying out “Dad” but only his heartbroken mother heard him. Dolores tried to get him in the house but he resisted, crying incoherently, refusing to move in any direction. Passing over his father’s corpse was like going through hell to get to heaven.
“We have to get out of here,” she whispered to him. Her greatest fears came true, they were in permanent danger.
Whatever emotions went missing for those two minutes came back tenfold; overwhelmed by her feelings for Patrick, Dolores collapsed next to her son. There was too much in front of her to leave behind. The area was clear, void of voices, and the wind whistled through the trees. Allister brought his knees to his chin and they scooted together, wishing the night away like monsters in a closet.
NEIGHT CASTER
Cumberland Falls, Kentucky, April 20, 2019
Nicolas and his men combed through the crater full of wreckage from the power plant three times, they didn’t find Neight but the government recovered the damaged spacecraft and its contents. Two-thirds of Cumberland survived. The Andromeda Project discovered that Neight’s manipulation of nuclear energy released radiation in the area. It was too late to have it abandoned and the town was quarantined shortly after the incident. Many survivors got sick and died abruptly during dinners, in classrooms, and family holidays. By the time Russell and Rabia returned to town to do their assessment five years later, it was empty.
They wore protective suits for safety during the investigation. Sharp metal pieces were partially buried in liquid-deprived dirt. The air was still as if there were no atmosphere, and decay from radiation made the site look like they’d landed on the moon or stumbled upon the ruins of an ancient colony.
Russell opened the blueprints for the building and stepped onto the center platform, the only thing left intact. “It was a ship,” the young engineer said.
“Indeed,” Rabia agreed from next to him. The energy detector he had in his back pocket gave off an obnoxious wailing noise.
“Unknown energy detected,” it said in between noises, “unknown energy detected.”
Russell stepped away from where they believed Neight perished. The tiniest particles gravitated in the air above the center platform. They were invisible to the naked eye at first, but as they moved closer together, they grew in size, taking shape. Neither of them spoke, they were so impressed and Russell promptly retrieved his cellular device to film what was happening. Limbs and various other parts added themselves until the pieces came together in the center of the room. A burst of energy blew them to the floor. Neight struggled to stay conscious; his body on the defensive against the two recovering humans. “Where is she?” He asked dropping to one knee.
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Rabia dusted himself off. “You no understand how long I wait for this.”
Neight clenched his teeth and collapsed.
CHAPTER SIX
Hybrid's Escape
FLORENCE BELLADONNA
Washington, DC, April 2026
Rabia requested a meeting and even agreed to meet in Florence’s office. He sat on her therapy couch, as they called it, and she sat in her leather desk chair, legs crossed neatly. The oak coffee table separating them hosted two cups of hot tea on saucers with lemon wedges and sugar cubes on the side. There was mutual distaste for each other. Florence thought he came off sleazy. Rabia thought she acted smarter than she actually was.
“I know my mind is mess,” he said, taking a sip of the tea on the table. “I keep it that way on purpose.”
Something about how Rabia’s power worked made his mind hard to navigate. It was as cloudy as his superhuman mist form.
“Your English has gotten good.” Florence tugged at the fabric of her uniform.
His mouth moved beneath the squirrel’s tail of a mustache. “My illiteracy is ploy to mask my genius. You know what it’s like to play game. Are you going to tell on me?”
She picked up her mug and shook her head.
“Thank you for tea. It is delicious.” He placed his plump hands in his lap. “I came here because you should replace me as second lead for mission,” Rabia said bluntly. He dropped another sugar cube in his dainty cup.
“All formalities aside, Rabia,” she paused for a reaction to his real name but there was none. The edge of the hot drink nearly touched her lips. “The directors voted me out. It’s a done deal.” She put everything down as if only then realizing what it meant.
“What do you want, Doctor?” he asked, poking the cube. When she didn’t answer he continued, “What I believe you want, is to make sure hostage returns safely. No one can do that better than you. If I go, I can’t promise it will be priority.”
He was pretty close.
“Correct. On the one hand, I’d like avoid additional trauma on Private Adams,” Florence smiled. She also wanted freedom from her obligation to the Andromeda Project in time to spend the fall in Monaco. “But locating the gems is top of my list. I think it’d make all of our lives easier.” She moved her wild locks behind one ear so both eyes were visible. Getting someone to trust her when she didn’t trust them was a trick she’d mastered over many years.
“Do you think Private Adams will escape?” he finally said.
“Not as long as we communicate our effort.” She drank some of her tea, thankfully still hot. Crimson lipstick stayed on the edge of her mug.
Stirring his drink, Rabia considered the facts presented.
“Can’t wait to see you convince General Delemar to convince the directors to send me on this mission.” Florence had a way about sarcasm where it didn’t sound overly disrespectful; Rabia hardly flinched.
“Don’t worry about details. You will go in my place. Problem solved,” he said, taking full control of the conversation and extending his hand. “I know how important this is to you.” He squeezed her hand, smiling from ear to ear. She tapped her mouth as he left the room, What just happened? she thought.
LEESA DELEMAR
Washington, DC, April 2026
After leaving her father’s office Leesa explored the hallways, thinking about Allister. Her grim, troubled past etched into the walls, put much of what she felt into perspective. The Andromeda Project changed her, physically and mentally, in order for her to live. Never leaving the facility, being used as a weapon, operating like a machine, seemed normal for almost eight years. Not a shred of sadness, joy, love. Recently rejecting logic and uniformity led to an awakening of hidden desires beneath the robotic exterior. Allister made her feel. She arrived at the vault without consciously deciding to go there. Three confused soldiers guarding the prison awaited her orders. Her daydream ended but the smile lingered. “Open the vault.”
“You’re forbidden to check on Private Adams, orders from the general,” the soldier said with hostility.
“It’s for the safety of the entire base,” Leesa said less patiently. “We don’t have him under control yet.”
Nervous glances exchanged under fitted military caps. “The vault can hold him. It held you,” the shift lead said, one hand on his weapon.
Leesa’s hands turned to fists before she knew what came over her. If she wanted freedom from her father’s control, it would have to be taken. A wrist over her shoulder launched the shift lead across the room. He slid against the floor. Two soldiers lifted the weapons from their sides.
“Reconsider your actions, Lieutenant,” the shift leader said recovering.
Leesa’s eyes narrowed; before anyone pulled a trigger, they fastened to the wall. Their guns crumbled into piles of dust. She placed her Cynque watch along the access pad. “Lieutenant Delemar recognized,” the computer said as the vault’s lock mechanism turned. An open palm across her body swung the thousand pound door open.
“Your discretion is appreciated,” Leesa said walking in.
Allister sat on the bed in full uniform. She stepped over the Andromeda Project patch he’d ripped off of it. The door followed her command, leaving only a sliver of fluorescent light.
“Probably not the best idea for you to be here.”
“I could’ve had you terminated already.” Leesa looked down and opened her right hand, see-through energy rippled above it. “But I thought it might be more newsworthy if I did it myself.”
Allister grabbed her around the waist with ferocity and spun her. “I could’ve locked you in here,” he said looking back. Closer proximity to the door afforded him the upper hand, but escaping at her expense meant he wouldn’t learn why she’d come. “Did you come here to watch me suffer?” Eyes red as an insomniac’s and sad as a widow’s, unveiled a part of her she thought she’d lost. Her humanity.
Leesa straightened her uniform, then placed both hands on his muscular shoulders. “Allister, I, I need to be honest. For once.” She outlined his face. “I haven’t been the same since you came here. Bombarded by strange visions, disobeyed my father, I’ve even been stronger!” Leesa paced the vault. “I’m looking for someone to co-lead this project when Nicolas steps down. You have qualities we’ve been missing here for a long time; I need you on our side and I want you to succeed.”
Allister pulled her hand until they were nose to nose in the almost darkness, her eyes faintly outlined with telekinetic power. Leesa looked away, concentrating on keeping the men against the wall but left a hand on his bicep. Shame got caught in her throat as she tried to swallow.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Don’t make my sacrifice for nothing,” Leesa begged.
“If you asked me a week ago,” Allister sighed, “I would’ve said yes and given you the kiss of your life. But you’ve changed me too.” The answer wasn’t yes anymore, not a simple yes. Allister and Leesa were in the same place. It was time to start asking questions, discovering things for themselves and stop taking “no you can’t” from higher-ups. But his driving motivation had everything to do with his personal mission. He wasn’t interested in Neight’s mission. He would never carry out C20’s. He’d lost faith in the Andromeda Project and, until moments before, he’d lost faith in Leesa. “I don’t have any ties to anyone or anything except the woman who raised and fed me.”
Leesa felt the lie in his grip. Emotionally, whatever was between them kept him from running out of the open prison. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” she said.
“What about my mother?” he asked. “I want to be the one to save her.”
“We’re working on it.”
Allister took her face in his hands. “Leesa, I hope you know I’d never kill your father. It’s not me.”
“Lieutenant Delemar is how I’m to be addressed.” She fell into his lips. Their brief connection fueled static backlash from his Zosma energy, a telekinetic explosion sent
them opposite each other in the vault. Cold floor accompanied racing thoughts, a lusting heart, and a new set of disturbing visions. Leesa got up on her own; per usual, Allister had already recovered and moved out of the door’s path for her to leave.
“I have to do damage control, let me know if you change your mind,” Leesa said.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Allister replied. The vault sealed shut.
ANDROMEDA PROJECT MAIN HQ
Washington, DC, April 2026
“All senior staff members report to my office immediately,” the general’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker.
Rabia, Leesa and Florence found the door to his office ripped off the hinges. They entered cautiously, passing the corridor’s recently dented walls. Twisted metal lay on the floor among torn up pieces of furniture, shattered family photos, and his military accomplishments. Nicolas stood in the middle of it.
“Furious doesn’t even begin,” he screamed, turning around and smashing his glass desk to pieces, “to describe how much I want to rip all your fucking heads off.” Florence stepped back defensively and a red psionic field created a barrier down the center of the room. Leesa stared at the monster she called her father. Would I be as eager to rescue him? she thought.
“General,” Florence said, “you’re on the verge of a psychotic break.”
Nicolas became aware of himself and the destruction around him. “I’m under a lot of pressure. I’ll get this cleaned up,” he stammered. “After meeting with Mr. Ashur, we have two options and less than a day to complete them. Rebuild the organization somewhere else or take down C20.”
“We’d run out of cash flow if we rebuilt everything,” Florence said. The red field faded. “Are we talking about the quiet mission…or something else?”
The Andromeda Project (The Cluster Chronicles Book 1) Page 19
