by M. V. Kallai
Eternity Rising
by
M.V. Kallai
Eternity Rising is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by M.V. Kallai All rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Kallai, M.V.
www.mvkallai.com
Eternity Rising/ M.V. Kallai – First Edition
(The Tripple Chronicles, Book 1)
Cover design by Peter Kallai
Edited by Barbara Vogel and Elena Coccari
ISBN-13:978-0615600925
ISBN-10:0615600921
For Peter and Barbara whose unfailing support and unfiltered guidance make me better than I am on a daily basis.
A special thanks to Elena Coccari for her fantastic ideas and encouraging spirit. And to Kim Keller for always believing and for helping to keep my head in the game.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Introduction
Maeve Daire lay on her white plush bed smoking a cigarette. She was wearing only a short, silk robe. She liked the way it caressed her skin. Delicate. Soft. Non-assuming. She stretched one arm over her head and sucked in the sweet smoke from her cigarette. She didn’t usually smoke, but it was a guilty pleasure she allowed herself once in a while. And she felt deserving of little personal pleasures when she wasn’t on a job.
She wrapped a piece of her damp, clean hair around her finger and let it go when she heard a familiar tone coming from her computer. Damn, she thought, and I was having such a good night. She got out of bed and rubbed out the rest of her cigarette in a dark blue ceramic dish. She glided past the computer, set up on the large desk in her room, and went straight to the small bar by her dressing table. She poured herself a glass of scotch and took a swallow. It burned her throat on the way down and she smiled, enjoying the sensation. She made her way back to the computer and hit a button that lit the screen. The familiar tri-arc government logo appeared. She punched in her access code and within seconds, a man’s face materialized. “Cute,” she said aloud. “What a shame.” Her tone was bitterly sarcastic. She took another gulp of her scotch and sat down to read the profile on her next target.
It was easy to assume that Maeve’s calling in life was to be a spoiled super model as she was gorgeous from head to toe. Five feet ten, long blonde hair, green eyes and a body to make all other women jealous and every man drool. Instead, she was plucked out of obscurity at a young age to train for the Daxian government’s top secret ‘Special Unit’. It wasn’t too many years after her recruitment that she became the top agent in the field. Not only did she get results every time, she did it in style. Maeve was smart, ruthless, and her natural athleticism made her fierce in combat. These traits gave her quite the hidden arsenal behind her beauty, which she’d learned early on was her greatest weapon. Now, at thirty-three she was probably the deadliest person on the planet and the government she worked for showed a healthy respect for that actuality. Not that Maeve was a bully, but she did demand an exorbitant payment for her services. This started after she’d branched out to the private sector. The resulting bidding wars made her aware of her monetary worth. She’d been accepting private contracts for a few years and while she left no evidence for the government to find, they suspected. Especially since the disappearance of one of the Special Unit’s higher ups a few years back. And it wasn’t just that he went missing, it was as if he’d never existed. Bank accounts, birth record, tax information, and government identification, all gone.
Maeve printed a page on her new target, Naja Pinure. She stood by the glass wall of her northern seaside house enjoying the last little bit of sunlight dancing on the water as night moved in. Naja was a high-ranking government official suspected of espionage. If he was a spy and had managed to get to his current position, she would have to pull out all the stops to get anything out of him. She rolled her eyes and thought about how much of herself she would have to compromise to complete this job. The things she hated most about her work were pretending to be falling in love and having sex with unworthy men. For this job, it looked as if she would have to do both. When the sun was completely gone, she burned the paper in her hand, poured herself another scotch and took it to one of her closets that was full of her sexiest clothes. She hated the stereotype of tall, blonde seductress, and killing people was not something she enjoyed, but she was so good at it that she took solace in the idea that it was a higher calling. Sleeping pills and alcohol helped at night when the images of dying, bloody faces planted themselves in her mind against her will.
Later, after she’d had dinner alone in her oversized house, she pulled Naja’s picture up again. She studied the lines in his face, trying to read his expression. There was something about his eyes. Sincerity? No. Passion? Maybe. Whatever it was, it intrigued Maeve and the more she read about him, the more interested she became. It seemed that most of his projects centered on the well being of others. Things like allocating more funds to medical research and creating better jobs for the impoverished. He’d been married once and had a daughter, Madelyn. Maeve searched for information on the girl. She was nineteen now, but had gone missing three years ago. She was suspected of aiding her father in leaking military information to the neighboring state, Tyrine. Maeve couldn’t help but smile when she ran across a picture of the girl, tall, blond, and obviously ambitious if she was g
uilty of her alleged crimes. It was like seeing a picture of herself at that age, almost. This girl looked happy, the kind of happy that shows in faces of people who are loved. She wondered how her own life might have been different if she’d had a father as powerful and kind as Naja Pinure to guide her, instead of tossing her aside like a piece of trash when she’d started to fight back. Of course, she was only guessing that Naja was different than her father. Maybe he assaulted and starved his daughter, Madelyn, too. The girl was missing. Maeve realized she was getting excited about this job, at least unraveling the mystery of it. She sort of hoped she wouldn’t have to kill the girl, too. What a protégé she might make.
Chapter One
Outside, the lights shone bright from the transports passing overhead. Although it was the midnight hour, the sky was as bright as dawn. The light of three full moons illuminated the cloudless sky. Colonel Samuel Ganesh momentarily glared at the second moon, Myris, before he slipped quietly into the Daxian Government’s Technology Research Unit Building, known as TRU. Once inside, he crept, undetected, to the atrium lab. He was dressed in black and his face was covered. He rode the moving walkway to the storeroom level and pulled a badge out of his pocket. The picture on this little access card was not his. He’d lifted it from one of the scientists in the cafeteria that afternoon. Picking a door at random, he swiped the card and entered a room lined with cylindrical canisters. He grabbed one from the back, tucked it into a dark cool pouch and left undetected.
Twenty five miles away, Dr. Lee Tripple was in his lab dropping liquid from a small glass dropper into test tubes with various labels and checking his many data outputs. They displayed gene structures, breakdowns of proteins in cells and lists of chemical compounds and their reactions with the different samples. His lab was very sterile under pale fluorescent light and though the work done here involved creating life, there was little sign of it. Even Lee’s office lacked personality. There were no wall decorations, no personalized coffee mugs or photographs, just a metal chair behind a large, somewhat paper cluttered desk in a square room with pale white walls. Lee, however, was always too busy thinking to notice the absence of anything that might be considered personal or that displayed his artistic taste, if he had any. He was mumbling something under his breath and his forehead wrinkled, unwrinkled, and wrinkled again. He adjusted his glasses and studied the content of the test tubes. He didn’t need to wear glasses, thanks to the genetic vision correction therapy he had cultivated several years ago right here in his lab. But, he just didn’t feel right without them, so on his face they stayed. He removed his rubber gloves and pulled an inkless pen out of the side pocket of his lab coat along with a computerized notepad and began scribbling notes across the small screen. This small piece of technology held Lee Tripple’s deepest thoughts, unpublished theories, and private notes about his research. Anyone in the world’s scientific community would have killed to have just an hour alone with this small contraption.
Earlier that night, Lee attended the Global Science Society’s awards ceremony and watched his only friend, Camden Riles, smoothly deliver his acceptance speech. In contrast to the sharp dresser at the podium, Lee was wearing an old, brown plaid, out of date coat with pants that did not match and hair was unkempt. He clapped loudly when Camden finished his speech and then sneaked out the back door before reporters spotted him. He had a transport waiting on the street and he got in quickly and motioned for the driver to go.
In another hour, he was to meet Camden in a private penthouse lounge that the two of them frequented. The general public was not granted access to this small, dimly lit lounge with oversized, stuffed leather chairs and solid oak tables. Lee and Camden were wealthy enough to buy access to this gem of a place where the finest liquors and tobaccos could be ordered as well as a really good meal, which was what Lee found most important. Reporters were also not allowed there and the owner, Enira, and her staff practiced the utmost discretion on their guests’ behalf. Some of the greatest ideas known to man were hatched here from the long hours of discussion between Camden and Lee. Tonight, without a doubt, would be no different.
One hour and thirty-five minutes later, Camden walked into the club. It was 10:15 and Lee had already finished eating. When he saw Camden, he stood, letting his napkin fall from his lap to the floor. Although it was their usual table, he waved his right hand to signal where he was seated. Lee, perhaps never noticed this minor detail. Camden nodded to Lee and started toward the table, stopping a waitress along the way and ordering a very fine scotch and cigar. Before Camden sat down, Lee began speaking.
“Fine speech, Cam, fine speech. I was just giving some thought to internal pressure regulations for humans in varying atmospheres and I think I have figured a way to make the next generation of space inhabitants more equipped biologically to handle fluctuating pressure changes.” Camden settled in and chuckled, unnoticed by Lee. So typical, he thought. Why waste time on small talk? Camden took a deep sigh and then focused on what Lee was saying.
“So with a few minor alterations to the chemical infrastructure of the bones and vascular system…”
Just then Camden’s scotch and cigar arrived at the table. Finally. Camden thought and pulled a cigar cutter and lighter out of his coat pocket. Nights in the limelight weren’t a bother to Camden, but he always felt a strong sense of relief when they were over. Then, he could do what made him most happy. Relax in his cozy hideaway and enjoy stimulating conversation hours into the night.
“I’ve worked up a few samples in the lab and should have some preliminary results in four days…approximately,” Lee continued.
Two hours and three scotches later, their conversation covered a myriad of mutual interests, from the physics of space travel and wormholes, to immortality. Camden was always torn about the last of these topics. He wasn’t sure he wanted to live forever and he questioned whether anyone should. These questions had plagued him for the last five years, ever since he’d helped Lee discover it might be possible. He sometimes shared his opinions, but Lee had one view when it came to the morality of scientific innovation that was; “In the realm of science, if it can be done, it should be done. Morality is relative to human feelings and therefore not truth.” For Lee, progress was more than a commitment or obligation; it was the natural order of life.
Camden yawned and it prompted Lee to look at his watch. He stood up abruptly and said, “I have to go back to the lab now. I need to monitor the cell samples tonight. If this works, it’s on to step two...altered gene insertion.” He offered his hand for Camden to shake and then strode away purposefully, head down, and mumbling. “A productive meeting,” was all Camden caught.
When his cigar was smoked down to a nub, Camden stood up, stretched, and winked at the club owner, Enira. Numbed by the scotch, he made his way to the rooftop lift where his private transport awaited to take him home. Camden woke his driver, Ari, who had nodded off while waiting, and sat in the back with his hands folded behind his head.
Since Lee’s lab was only two city blocks from the club, he walked there easily. He put his access key into a slot on the door that automatically triggered the lights to come on in his lab and the corridors he would walk to get there. Tripple Laboratories occupied the main floor and basement of a four-story building that Lee owned. He sometimes rented its excess space to medical researchers and scientists at Camden’s urging. It generated extra money for Lee to work on his own private research and freed him of commitment to any singular project. It was Lee’s choice to work in the basement. There was an impenetrable silence down there, which Lee needed to maintain complete focus. It also made him feel like his experiments could be kept more private if he could not hear people walking through the corridors. No one would have reason to come to the basement lab unless they were working directly for Lee, and even then, his staff only went to the basement at his infrequent request. The exception to this, of course, was Camden Riles, who had his own office in Lee’s lab. There was a high level of securit
y associated with this building and even more to access Lee’s lab. DNA matching and body scans were required for workers to enter the basement. However, Lee and Camden had their own private entrance that required voice matching, access codes, and fingerprinting, so they could bypass the invasive procedures set up for everyone else. Lee trusted no one else with access codes and wanted to keep track of everyone who came in and out of his private world.
Chapter Two
The Plan
The next day, Camden stepped out of his transport, his shoes splashing in the water on the side of the road. His camel colored pants covered the tops of his brown leather shoes as he stood upright and straightened his soft-rimmed hat. He walked toward a small café on the outskirts of the city that served coffee and eggs, while drops of water chased his heels with each step. It was a chilly day and Camden felt the icy rain penetrate his coat. He looked skyward to appreciate the dim ambiance of the cloud cover. Inside the café, Colonel Ganesh sat at a table for two by one of the large windows facing the sidewalk. When he saw Camden approaching, he took a quick sip of his coffee and stood up to greet him. Camden shook his wet hat and was too preoccupied with handing his coat to the host to notice, but when he was situated, he saw Ganesh. His large, commanding presence was difficult to miss. Camden strode over to greet him. They shook hands and sat down together. Camden glanced out the window to look at the rainfall again and Ganesh scanned the café quickly with his eyes to check for any possible eavesdroppers.
“Hell of a morning, isn’t it,” started Ganesh. Camden gave a short chuckle.
“Good morning to you, too. So what’s this I hear about a promotion?”
“Oh, that,” said Ganesh, suddenly looking modest. “I didn’t realize word traveled so fast, but I’m glad it did because my promotion is the reason I asked to meet this morning.”
