Genesis Variant (Genesis Book 6)

by Eliza Green

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  GENESIS VARIANT

  The Genesis Series, Book 6

  Eliza Green

  Copyright © 2019 Eliza Green

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copy Editor: Sara Litchfield

  Cover Design: Deranged Doctor Design

  This book is also available in print.

  www.elizagreenbooks.com

  1

  Marcus Murphy couldn’t believe what Exilon 5 promised: sunshine, space and breathable air. That’s what Harvey Buchanan said, the man who’d altered his appearance using facial manipulation techniques. Together they’d boarded the passenger ship with fake identities. The journey would take two weeks, just long enough for Marcus to get used to his new face.

  Harvey sat back and folded his arms. ‘You’re a strange man, Marcus. You’re reacting to news about Exilon 5 like it’s the first time. Haven’t you ever seen the promotional videos?’

  It was Marcus’ first time. The criminal factions who’d ruled over Earth for seven years before the people took it back mistrusted technology. All he knew was whatever Gaetano Agostini, his former boss, had deemed important enough for him to know. And before that, Exilon 5 wasn’t even on his radar.

  He looked around the ship’s recreation room where they both sat. ‘It’s not like I ever dreamed of moving to the new planet. My old life was on Earth. Why waste time daydreaming about shit that might never happen?’

  Harvey shook his head. ‘I’ll never understand you insular types.’

  ‘What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I.N.S.U.L.A.R.,’ he spelled out. ‘You know, people who are intolerant of anyone who exists outside of their tiny world. Those who never travel, never experience other cultures... never even get the bullet train anywhere.’

  ‘I had nowhere to go.’ Marcus’ chest heaved at the accusation but he kept his anger in check. The semi-crowded conditions in the room helped. ‘It’s not like I had family I could visit in South America, for fuck’s sake. Everyone I knew lived locally.’

  His travel companion laughed too hard. ‘Travelling isn’t about burdening yourself on relatives. Is that the only reason you stayed put?’

  ‘I had no reason to go,’ he said with a shrug. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘It’s about exploring and getting to know new cultures, which is exactly what you’ll do when we get to Exilon 5. The cities are named after places on Earth—New London, New Tokyo, New Melbourne—and preserve the culture of those regions, but people from other cultures also live there. The land mass is vast with little to no ocean. The cities were built in a way so everything is connected by road or rail.’

  Harvey talked to him like he was some intolerant prick from a backwater town. He lived in fucking Hunt’s fucking Point, New York. Slap bang in the middle of city life. He may not have travelled farther than Boston, but he had street smarts. On Earth, where he worked for the criminal factions, that mattered more than tolerance.

  He thought about the man who’d taught him how to fight: Gaetano Agostini. Enzo, Gaetano’s son and a psychotic piece of shit, had taught him how to fight dirty.

  Marcus hoped they were both dead.

  It was only the second day on board the passenger ship and Marcus had yet to see anyone he recognised. He checked out the sea of grinning faces—people like him lucky to escape Earth. But he was escaping for a different, more dangerous reason. In the end, Marcus had betrayed Gaetano to save his own skin because Gaetano had set him up to fail.

  It had been Agostini or him. Even Carl, his friend, had turned to the darker side to save his own skin. A small part of him wondered if Carl was still alive. A bigger part hoped his lying, cheating ass was burning in purgatory.

  His gaze settled on a table with teenagers two over from theirs. Then he saw him. Marcus’ eyes cut back to a frowning Harvey.

  ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Ben Watson. That kid whose grandfather I kidnapped is sitting. Right. Over. There.’

  He fixed his gaze on the table and pointed discreetly under his elbow.

  Harvey glanced over, which drew a hiss from Marcus. ‘What the fuck? He’ll look over here and recognise me. Then he’ll tell his little buddy Bill Taggart where I am and I’ll be arrested the minute I step off this ship.’

  Harvey returned his gaze to Marcus. ‘Have you looked at your reflection lately? You’re a different person. So am I. Stop your whining and just relax. He doesn’t know who you are.’

  Marcus straightened up. Harvey was right. He looked nothing like his old self. Gone was the Marcus Murphy with a neck scar so prominent he would be identified in a line up. In his place sat Martin Casey from Richmond, just one of the many borrowed identities that Harvey had on file in his database of dead people. Marcus must have studied his reflection a dozen times since Harvey had completed the genetic manipulation changes to his face. Didn’t matter what he looked like. Beneath, he would always be Marcus.

  He leaned his elbows on the table and glanced over at Ben. The teenager sat with others his age, his eyes focused on the wall rather than the conversation happening around him. To Marcus, he would always be the dipshit with connections to Bill Taggart who refused to help him get on board this ship. If it hadn’t been for Harvey...

  ‘It’s about time you accepted your new look.’ Harvey leaned across the table. ‘I didn’t change your face so you could hide. You’re here because I need you.’

  ‘Not doubting your abilities, Doc. I still need time to get used to it.’

  The procedure to rearrange his face had something to do with nanotechnology. Harvey had explained it to Marcus before he injected thousands of nanoids directly into the muscles of his face. The nanoids worked by increasing the cell structure count, adding new muscle outside what was genetically predetermined. Before Marcus could protest, he’d felt the crawlers add bulk to his hollow cheeks and take away cells from his neck to provide more definition. When the bandages came off, Marcus had washed his face repeatedly to rid himself of the nanoids Harvey said died in the process to make him more appealing.

  A curious Ben glanced over suddenly, forcing Marcus to hide his face. Even with his new identity, this kid held too much power over him.

  ‘Can’t you do something about him? Like snuff him or something?’

  Harvey looked over at Ben before cutting his eyes back to Marcus. ‘You still don’t get it, do you? This spaceship returned to Earth specially to bring that runt to Exilon 5. What would Bill Taggart do if the ship arrived and the boy was found dead in some closet? We’d all be stuck in detention indefinitely until the killer was found.’ Harvey glanced over at Ben again. ‘There’s far more interesting things happening on Exilon 5. When you get settled, you won’t even care if he’s alive.’

  ‘Really, like what? You got criminal gangs there too?’

  Marcus hoped he wouldn’t be put to work for another Gaetano.

  ‘Criminals are crass. Too low level.’ Harvey sat back. ‘You’re pl
aying in the big leagues now. My sources say the peace treaty is on shaky ground and splinter organisations have formed on both the human and Indigene sides to disband it. They want to return things to how they were.’

  Harvey had filled him in on the politics of Exilon 5 and the curtailed freedom the treaty afforded to the Indigenes. ‘I thought the treaty was supposed to be a good thing.’

  ‘For the ten board members maybe, and anyone working in the International Task Force. But with freedom comes fear. People feel that the Indigenes have too much freedom. Bill Taggart’s primary role as Director of the ITF is to maintain that treaty. If we can break it, the ITF falls apart and any remaining power the board members have on Exilon 5 is dissolved.’

  ‘So who takes over?’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘What, doctors?’

  Harvey rolled his eyes. ‘No, those of genetically inferior quality who were never offered the chance to transform into a superior race.’

  ‘I can relate to that.’

  All his life Marcus had sat on the outside, not only from genetic programmes but any work programmes that required a greater intellect to his own.

  Harvey’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘You and I are not the same. Get that into your thick skull right now.’

  A surprised Marcus leaned back from the man. He sounded just like Gaetano.

  ‘Know your place in society and you will get on just fine.’

  ‘My place?’

  ‘Yes, Marcus, your place. I plan to break apart the oppressive, autonomous power regime that exists on Exilon 5 and give real people a shot at turning Exilon 5 into a profitable, tech-dominant planet like Earth.’

  ‘What’s it like now?’

  ‘The use of technology is discouraged in society. Yet, the government uses it. They kept all the good stuff that actually transferred.’

  ‘Sounds like you need my experience, because that’s how we survived and operated on Earth—in a technology vacuum.’

  Harvey blew out a breath, as if irritated. ‘The criminal factions waited for the World Government to leave before they climbed out of their sewers. You operated a regime of oppression and fear. That’s not progress, Marcus. That’s just as bad as returning to the dark ages.’

  Marcus didn’t appreciate Harvey’s condescending tone. The factions did just fine.

  He folded his arms. ‘So how would you have done things differently?’

  ‘For a start, I would have gained the trust of those below me rather than rule with an iron fist. People will do a lot more if they feel useful to a cause.’

  Bullshit. ‘What were you doing while the factions ruled Earth?’

  ‘Waiting for you lot to kill each other. Your business model had a short life span. If you don’t have trust you have nothing. You don’t care whom you kill to protect your position. Power fluctuates amid a changeable environment of fear and suspicion. That’s why trust is paramount. Take Bill Taggart, for example. While I despise the man, I have to admire him. He’s done what few others have—he has the full support of the Indigenes.’

  Marcus thought little of those bottom feeders. ‘Then the joke’s on him. Because they’re worthless, blood-sucking vermin.’

  ‘Clearly you haven’t seen them in their natural environment.’

  Marcus uncrossed his arms and leaned across the table. ‘Neither have you. You said you’ve never been to Exilon 5.’

  ‘Do you even know who I am?’

  ‘Yeah, a doc who thinks he’s better than everyone else.’

  ‘Fucking dipshit,’ muttered Harvey. He leaned closer. ‘I was one of the original geneticists involved in their creation. I know what their potential is because I helped to design them.’ He shook his head. ‘You are a moron. That’s why you’ll never amount to much. Where you see weakness, I see opportunity.’

  Marcus could see opportunity aplenty, but his experience of the half-dead, blood-draining, bald freaks that lived in the attic of the Deighton mansion had given him an insight he was sure Harvey didn’t have. ‘We’ll have to agree to disagree.’

  ‘That intolerant attitude of yours won’t get you far, because when we get to Exilon 5 you’ll be working with Indigenes. We won’t break the treaty without their help. Some of them want change as much as we do.’

  Fuck that. Marcus was his own man. He owed Harvey nothing.

  ‘I have no ties to anyone, Harvey. I’ll find my own way on Exilon 5.’

  Harvey bared his teeth. ‘Did you think that face came for free? I own you now and if you step out of line, I can put you in the ground just as easy as I kept you out of it.’

  2

  Bill Taggart paced the length of the corridor under the watchful eye of Laura O’Halloran. She looked a picture of calm. Why wasn’t she concerned about the incoming spacecraft?

  Laura’s hand on his arm brought him to a stop.

  ‘Will you stop pacing for one minute? You’re driving me nuts.’

  ‘I hate waiting around for other people.’

  ‘No, really?’ Laura rolled her eyes. ‘Bill Taggart, you must be the most frustrating, infuriating man I know.’

  That made Bill smile. ‘So why are you with me?’

  ‘Eight years on, I’m still asking myself the same question.’ She kissed his mouth and it worked as the distraction she’d probably planned it to be. ‘Turns out I like a challenge. And you’re just that.’

  She challenged him too, in a way that suited him. He thought back to the time she’d followed him through Sydney, right before she’d brought him to meet Stephen. The Indigene had opened Bill’s eyes to the truth about his own government. Her stubbornness and determination to do right by the Indigenes had not only intrigued him but brought his own goals into focus. Bill had been so consumed with the search for Isla Taggart he hadn’t thought to look at the people he worked for. Laura’s bravery had blown open a conspiracy that could have resulted in the deaths of countless innocent Indigenes.

  Bill had turned a blind eye at the time; their deaths would have been on his conscience.

  The time to make amends was now. And it started with one teenager.

  He leaned in for another kiss, making this one last. Laura moaned and his grip on her tightened. He glanced around the busy New London docking station. Ben Watson could wait a few minutes more. Isla’s murder had been the worst thing to happen to him. But had she not died, he never would have found Laura.

  She pulled away and took the moment with her. But the glint in her eye said, Later.

  He’d make sure of it.

  A burst of commotion separated them farther as the rarely used docking station in New London filled with extra personnel.

  The passenger ship had arrived.

  ‘Time to put on your best act,’ Laura whispered in his ear.

  He glanced down at the black uniform that identified him as Director of the International Task Force, a position awarded him after Tanya Li, former chairperson of the World Government, and some board members had narrowly escaped execution during a showdown with the Indigenes on Exilon 5. Tanya had agreed to certain demands rather than fight a superior race. One of Bill’s demands had been to take charge of the ITF.

  He became alert when a young soldier carrying a DPad approached him.

  ‘Sir, we finally got the manifest,’ said the soldier. ‘A hundred people on board.’

  His team had had no access to the manifest before or during the flight. When the World Government board members had arrived on Exilon 5, they had ordered all interstellar communications to be disabled. This hampered Bill’s efforts to keep in touch with events on Earth. While Anton had found a back door to communicate with Jenny Waterson, his underground contact on Earth, the ships’ logs had remained too encrypted to decipher.

  ‘Show me.’

  The soldier handed over the DPad. Bill scrolled through the short list of names. He had expected it to be longer. He donned his professional mask in the presence of the soldier; those under his command were still loyal to t
he ideals of the old ITF and World Government regime, which threatened the Peace Treaty. The Peace Treaty gave Indigenes the freedom to surface safely. But suspicions on both sides around what that freedom meant had created splinter groups who opposed the accord.

  He found the name he wanted and nodded at Laura. Slipping into her official role as head of ITF communications, she nodded back.

  Bill handed the DPad back to the soldier. ‘One of the passengers will come with me. He has knowledge of this world prior to the Peace Treaty. We need to question him.’

  ‘One of us can question him, sir.’

  ‘No, I’d rather take care of it myself. ETA for the spacecraft?’

  ‘Ten minutes. His name, sir?’

  ‘Ben Watson.’

  The soldier nodded. ‘I’ll make sure he’s brought to you.’

  The young man walked away to the area where the spacecraft ferrying passengers from the ship was due to arrive.

  Laura moved closer to Bill. Just having her near calmed him.

  ‘Are you worried about meeting Ben?’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘What’s this going to achieve, other than put that teenager through hell again?’

  ‘It will give you and Stephen closure.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘But more important, it will give Ben Watson some answers.’

  ☼

  Ten minutes passed before the young soldier returned with a lanky teenager almost as tall as Bill. The teen walked with confidence but his eyes revealed his wariness.

  Ben said nothing when the soldier introduced him to Bill.

  ‘Thank you, Dunne.’ He ignored the teen’s gaze on him. ‘Please organise accommodation for the remaining passengers after you’ve processed them. Ms O’Halloran will see personally to Mr Watson’s accommodation requirements.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The soldier left and Bill noticed Ben’s brow lift, possibly at the formality.