Paradisi Escape: A Paradisi Chronicles novella (Paradisi Exodus Book 1)

by Cheri Lasota

  Table of Contents

  Praise for the Author

  Paradisi Escape

  Copyright

  Easter Eggs

  Sic itur ad astra

  The Betrayal

  The Sabotage

  The Trafero

  The Interrogation

  The Egress

  The Grav

  The Nautilus

  The Vote

  The Cryo Hatch

  The Passage

  The Cargo Sector

  The Rabbit Hole

  The Cavitran

  Book 2 Excerpt

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  PRAISE FOR PARADISI ESCAPE

  “There’s a new publishing experiment in town. Inspired by a Hugh Howey post a few years ago, The Paradisi Chronicles is a multi-author, open-sourced science fiction world writ large across generations and galaxies... Solomon and his unlikely Founder accomplice, Dextra Justice, are characters that live and breathe on the page. Together, these two are forced to make a Sophie’s Choice on a grand scale: who gets the cryo beds on the SS Challenge—the 3,000 Reachers or the stowed away Founders? Whoever stays is going to die. Period.”

  —Author David Bruns, Immortality Chronicles Anthology

  “The science and tech sound so cool and plausible, and it's easy to see a lot of research and time went into figuring out what would work best for the world and how it might work.... It's a great start to a series, with plenty of tension, action, and likeable characters. It makes me excited to see what this series will hold, and what the larger multi-author universe is going to be like.”

  —Michelle Gilmore @InLibrisVeritas

  “Quick-paced adventure in space, using real science as a backdrop.”

  —Author Adam Copeland, Echoes of Avalon

  PARADISI ESCAPE

  A Novella By

  Cheri Lasota

  COPYRIGHT

  PARADISI ESCAPE. Copyright © 2015 by Cheri Lasota. All rights reserved by Cheri Lasota. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Ever-Sea Press

  To book the author for engagements or gain permission for reprints and excerpts, contact: Cheri Lasota via CheriLasota.com or Cheri@CheriLasota.com.

  First Edition

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A THANK YOU TO OUR READERS

  The authors of the Paradisi world wanted to give you, our beloved readers, extra content as you adventure through the Paradisi System. Throughout this e-book, you will find easter eggs. These words are linked to password protected pages on the Paradisi Chronicles website. The word that is linked is the password. Whenever you find an easter egg, click the word, and then enter that word in the password box on the web page for access to extra content such as maps, previews of other stories in the world, and more!

  SIC ITUR AD ASTRA

  (Thus, you shall go to the stars)

  In the last decades of the twenty-first century, ten founding families seeking to escape an increasingly apocalyptic Earth focused their attention on constructing spaceships that would allow a select few to leave Earth and colonize the planet New Eden in the Paradisi System of Andromeda galaxy. In 2035, these Founders commissioned Reach Corp to design and build the near-Earth infrastructure required to meet their ambitious goals. Reach Corp agreed with one critical condition: upon the stipulation that they successfully retrofitted the original prototype ship, the Asteria-class SS Challenge, they would have full authorization to follow the Founding Families to the Paradisi System and settle peaceably in New Eden.

  —Preface

  The Interstellar Histories, Volume 1

  Paradisi Mission

  2025–Present Day

  EARTH, 2094

  LIFTER 2, SOLIX SKY SPACE ELEVATOR

  Today, equatorial Earth shone out against the abyss of the cosmos, its blues and greens almost the picture of paradise from this distance. Almost.

  As the lifter rose up through the 30,000-kilometer mark toward the Solix Sky Elevator's Docking Station, Solomon Reach's gaze drifted down through the viewing panel beneath his feet for the first time in a long time. It wasn't his custom to think about what was happening down on Earth. He was one of the few living in space who kept his eyes on the stars.

  In the last few weeks before launch, almost everyone else, including his Reach Corp crew, focused their attention on what and whom they were leaving behind. Crews gathered to view the planet below, anxious to memorize the shapes of the continents, the vastness of the oceans, and the whorl of storm clouds-signature markings of the only home they'd ever known.

  Each vertical kilometer took the elevator's lifter further from Earth and closer toward their final destination: New Eden, Paradisi System, Andromeda galaxy. Earth had been their Eden once. Long before the threat of nuclear war, before the terrorists controlled the world's borders, before the storm of 2093 destroyed much of the food supply. He barely remembered the feel of real earth. It had been years since he had felt blades of grass between his toes. But he no longer cared. Always on his mind was the future he had built and the new world that lay ahead.

  One hundred thousand Founders had already left on the ten other Asteria-class spaceships Reach Corp had designed for them. They would have landed on New Eden by now. Thus far there had been no communication from any of them. Of the ten thousand crew and passengers yet to leave on the eleventh and final ship, the SS Challenge, most worried that the Founder ships had met with disaster or failed to make it through the Sideris Gate or the wormhole itself. Solomon was not among them. He felt certain now that the Founding Families simply did not care whether the final ship arrived in the Paradisi System at all.

  Five thousand of those waiting to take the ship to the Paradisi System were Solomon's Reachers, what he called his Reach Corp crewmembers and their children. When Solomon's father had led Reach Corp, he signed a contract with the Founding Families, the pillars of Earth's elite and the group who had secretly launched the Paradisi Mission back in 2025. Their deal was simple: Reach Corp would build the three space elevators, space stations, and ten ships needed to launch the requisite number of humans to populate the new planet.

  Yet, no matter how often his Reachers—highly skilled astrophysicists, engineers, doctors, and biologists the lot of them—had proven their worth during the design, construction, and management phases of the project, the Founder crews had still considered Reachers to be of a lower class. While he tried to minimize this prejudice among his crew whenever possible, he couldn't help but lump the remaining non-Reacher crews on Nautilus-11 Space Station and the SS Challenge in with the original Founding Families in his mind. When he called them Founders, it was not a compliment. Solomon smiled grimly. Even the promise of a new beginning on New Eden wouldn't be able to eliminate the human need to segregate. Some things would never change.

  Solomon had often wondered what the natives on the new planet would make of these human aliens arriving in droves. He didn't have to wonder if the natives would end up hating the Founders . . . for him, it was an inevitable outcome; humans didn't have what he would call a stellar track
record when it came to colonization.

  He pressed his hand to the sun-warmed radiation-shielded glass beside him, the black of his skin a sharp contrast to the world's vast oceans below. Pale blue dot, indeed. The rise toward weightlessness was a strange contrast to the gravity of his thoughts. Ignoring the buzz of his crew's conversation around him and the hum and click of the lifter rolling up its carbon nanotube ribbon, Solomon took a final moment to say goodbye to his younger sister, Nisolda.

  He figured she had died already, likely by way of disaster, starvation, or bomb. Or maybe the rare mitochondrial disease ravaging her body had finally taken her at last. It was easier to think of her that way. Easier to leave the dead than abandon the living. But the moment his mind flashed back to his last sight of her lying in that sterile sick bed, he had to turn away from Earth—and her.

  He glanced instead at the elevation monitor above him. Just passing 30,100 vertical kilometers. In three days, this bedeviled planet would be a distant memory, a mere speck of light in another galaxy. Even after his fifteen years of hard work on the Paradisi Mission, the thought seemed ludicrous, like the daydreams he used to have as a boy, when the constellations came to life and had sword fights across the night sky.

  “Sir, can you tell me our ETA?”

  Startled, Solomon looked over to see a pale, dark-haired girl who couldn't have been more than seventeen years old. He was surprised she was by herself. Most of the crowd had already left the lounge compartment and headed off to find dinner. He was even more surprised a passenger was aboard the lifter at all. All passengers leaving for New Eden should have been strapped into their cryo beds aboard the SS Challenge by now. He glanced down at the UiComm read out at his wrist: May 3, 2094 17:34.

  “About two hours or so,” Solomon said. “You can see there through the fenestella”—he pointed up through the small viewing portal at the massive docking station looming large above them—“that we've just about made it to Solix Sky Station.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

  “I don't think I've seen you before. You're not a Reacher's child, are you?”

  “Yes. Well, no.” A momentary blush bloomed on her thin cheeks. “He's my uncle, really. Dugal Colgan.”

  “Ah, Colgan. Of course. He's one of my most brilliant bioengineers. He brought the biome labs online aboard the SS Challenge back in '92. His niece, you say? Why aren't you already aboard the ship and in your cryo bed?”

  “I'm not going to New Eden. I guess Uncle D called me up to say a final goodbye or something. He didn't tell me the details.”

  Solomon frowned. He knew her uncle well. He was an honest, hardworking man. But a Reacher child he'd never heard of traveling out to Nautilus-11 just before launch? Something didn't smell right.

  “Do you mind if I see your spacepass?”

  The girl seemed wary, and as she held out her wrist so he could check her credentials and ticket, her hand shook.

  He scanned her wrist comm device.

  FORENAME: NEYVE

  SURNAME: COLGAN

  CLEARED: SOLIX LIFTPORT, SOLIX SKY DOCKING STATION, NAUTILUS-11 SPACE STATION

  She was certainly related to Colgan, as he had no other Reacher crewmember with that name. And her spacepass looked legitimate. With his thumb, he scrolled down to the most important bit of information.

  REASON FOR TRAVEL: 1-DAY BEREAVEMENT PASS. UNAUTHORIZED FOR TRANSPORT: SS CHALLENGE.

  “Ah, I see,” he said, trying to soften his voice. “I understand you've lost a family member.”

  She seemed confused at first, but then she nodded. “I suppose that's why he'd like me to come up to see him. He's my last relative.”

  Solomon was surprised she didn't elaborate. But what did he know of teen girls? He supposed he might look a bit intimidating in his red Reacher uniform and aviator cap. He cleared her height by a foot and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. Frankly, he put most men in a state of defense just by entering a room.

  “I completely understand.” Solomon smiled at her, a poor attempt at putting her at ease. “I'm sure Colgan will be glad to see you one last time. I'm sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” she said, moving off to peer out the opposite window near where Solomon's most loyal crewmembers were discussing the finer points of sex in micro-G.

  “It's all about the angle of approach, really,” Propulsion Lead Kasen Vokos said, his hands provocatively illustrating in classic Greek fashion, his mop of jet-black hair draping with annoying perfection over his forehead—something that Solomon knew usually drove his Argentinian girlfriend, Drive Ops Chief Vida Rosado, wild. She merely punched him in the arm and laughed. Kasen was always trying to get a rise out of her. She was so used to him-and all the other brilliant but socially awkward men in the Reacher crew—that, as ever, she remained unfazed.

  “You're hopeless. Everyone knows it's all about how well you're strapped into the sex machine,” she said in a level voice, though her vixen-brown eyes gleamed. Those two were experts at flirting. Solomon often thought he should pay attention and pick up some tips in that regard. He hadn't been on a date in . . . well, way too long.

  Flight Engineer Exley Brooker hovered at the edge of their conversation looking decidedly uncomfortable. The man was nearing the edge of acceptable age in the program and had just made the cut. Knowing he'd lucked out, he worked twice as hard as anyone else. He was also still the epitome of a Southern African-American gentleman and a confirmed bachelor.

  Vida must have noticed Brooker's reaction, because she changed topics almost immediately. “Brooker, what are you going to miss most?”

  “About Earth, you mean?”

  “Of course,” Kasen said, raising his hands up in mock exasperation, his black swath of bushy brows rising in irritation, and his legendary lack of patience showing through once again. “What else?”

  “Hmm . . .” Brooker steepled his forefingers at his lips and stared off toward Earth. “I really don't know yet. Too soon to tell.”

  “If you had to guess?” Kasen pressed. He was always after Brooker to talk faster, but Solomon rather liked Brooker's Southern drawl. His deep, soothing voice reminded him fondly of Earth.

  “I suppose I'll eventually start missing Cross Creek.”

  “Cross what?” Kasen asked, leaning into Brooker's personal space.

  Brooker instinctively stepped back, crossed one arm across his chest, and brought his other hand to his mouth in contemplation. “Oh, it's a little old creek by my granddaddy's place down in Florida. He used to take me fishing out back when I was a kid. Catfish mostly. We'd have fish fries with the whole family every Friday. And hush puppies,” he drawled out, licking his lips subconsciously.

  “Your family make it out in time?” Kasen asked, suddenly a bit less harsh in his tone.

  “God, no. Hurricane of '76 took them all out.”

  The smiles and laughter left the group at the sobering reminder of life on the ground.

  “We're sorry to hear it,” Vida whispered for them all.

  “Yeah, well, we all lost somebody in the flooding. I am starting to forget their faces, which is just as well, I suppose. Except granddaddy. He had a face only a momma could love.” Brooker's brilliantly white teeth peeked out through his deep brown skin as his mind ambled through some old memory.

  “What about you, Vida? Though, I think I can guess,” Kasen asked, his Greek accent turning more pronounced as he grinned at her.

  “Yes, I think you probably could. Obvious, really. I'll miss Argentina in general, but my mother especially. Yes, and—oh, the nightclubs in Buenos Aires. I used to dance the tango, you know.” Vida shimmied around Brooker with a couple of dance moves, which brought a smile of embarrassment to his face.

  Her toothy grin would have made any man pull her into a dance spin, and Kasen took up the call, though a little slowly due to the lessening gravity. She laughed at him as he dropped her into a dip. When he raised her up again, she erupted in a laughing fit that made her straight br
own hair wave about beneath her red cloche hat.

  “That was back before you turned me into a little Greek girl, Mr. Vokos.”

  “Oh, you know you love my mother's moussaka.”

  “Which I haven't had the chance to eat in years.” Vida glanced up and saw Solomon eying the conversation. “Come on over, Sol. You haven't told us what you'll miss.”

  With a half-smile, Solomon stepped over to join them. His thoughts wouldn't settle on any one thing. A multitude of pictures flitted through his mind like a movie. Finally, it stopped on that same image of his sister lying still and silent in her sick bed. He shook his head.

  “Can't really say.”

  “Surely something from back home,” Brooker ventured. “Didn't you live in the South at one point too?”

  “I lived all over. Mostly up and down the East Coast to whatever schools the authorities wanted me to go to: a quick stint at Berkeley before the quake of '72, and then back East to Cambridge, Georgia Tech, and MIT.”

  “Hadn't realized,” Brooker said. “They were grooming you a long time, then? Took your aptitude tests early as well, I'm guessin'.”

  Solomon nodded. “Seven years old when my father brought me down to the ground and dumped me into the fast-track system. Eventually Mads Graversen found me and the rest is history.”

  “Come on now. There must be something,” Vida pressed Solomon, though her gaze shifted slightly to a spot just beyond him. She must have received a Ui message.

  They all waited as she read her message via her Ueyes HUD. Her expression changed so suddenly that it twisted her usually stunning brown eyes and easy smile into cold lines.

  This didn't bode well at all.

  “Report, Vida,” Solomon demanded immediately after she shifted her gaze back to him.

  She ignored him, glancing at Kasen instead. She whispered to him as she relaxed her expression. He raised an eyebrow, but moved to the lounge's comm unit and pressed in a code.