by Debra Jess
Andromeda’s Rebel
Debra Jess
ANDROMEDA’S REBEL
By
Debra Jess
Copyright © 2020 Debra Jess
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Edited by Heather McCorkle.
Cover Design by Mibl Art.
All stock photos licensed appropriately.
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Published in the United States by City Owl Press.
www.cityowlpress.com
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For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at [email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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 consent and permission of the publisher.
Praise for Debra Jess
“Riveting and complex, Andromeda's Rebel offers up a mix of sci-fi adventure and a compelling love triangle that kept me turning pages long into the night. Tamarja Chase is my favorite kind of heroine--snarky, smart and kickass!”
– Holly Crawford, co-author of the Wicked Widows series.
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“Andromeda's Rebel is my favorite science fiction romance of the year. It's mystery drives the Star Wars-style action, ensnaring a strong-willed heroine-pilot and a super-sexy hero in a struggle for the truth of her hidden past. Saying more would mean spoilers! Highly recommended!”
– D. C. Black, screenwriter, Scarecrow & Mrs. King.
2020 has been quite a challenge, so I'm dedicating this book to those who are on the front lines fighting COVID-19, especially the health care workers.
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Also, I'm dedicating this book to the firefighters who are fighting the California wildfires. Stay safe and wear a mask.
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Sneak Peek of Mixed In
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Additional Titles
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Want more sci-fi? Try dystopian novel, MIXED IN, by City Owl Author, Catherine Haustein, and find more from Debra Jess at debrajess.com
When passions are regulated, which laws will you break?
When Catrina moves to Cochtonville to work as a chemist for Cochton Enterprises, she has no idea how dangerous her life is about to become.
A chance meeting with Ulysses, owner of the Union Station bar, plunges her into a world of illegal condoms, vibrators, and art. As their loneliness draws them together, they become allies in what will become the fight of their lives in the sexually repressive and culturally backward dystopia.
Catrina’s invention, No Regrets—a scanner to test for pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections—brings increased scrutiny from the town's Vice Patrol, made worse by an ambitious new agent who hangs around Union Station and takes up with Ulysses’s vindictive ex.
Catrina’s relationship with Ulysses and her company’s new products put them both in peril as she begins to understand the dark side of her employer, society, and science without humanity.
But science is all she’ll have to spare the men of Cochtonville a mortifying fate and to save the life of Ulysses.
BUY NOW!
Chapter One
Tamarja Chase scraped the last chunk of frost from her nose with the back of her sleeve just as the door to her first appointment dissolved. She’d been frozen in cryo for who knew how long, and she'd come out soaking wet because some damn tech hadn't released enough antifrost into the tube. Defrost and dump was Manitac Corporation's policy for its prisoner population, with no explanation as to where the company had assigned her. Now she had to meet the parole officer in charge of her entire future looking like a beached walhoon. Without thinking, she stepped forward, but instead of entering the office, she slammed into the guy exiting, sending a rain of droplets from her curly hair all over her already ugly brown jumpsuit.
"I'm so sorry." She stepped back, knowing she should lower her eyes, but she didn't. She never had before, which had gotten her locked in solitary more times than she could count.
The guy exiting the office also stepped back with an automatic, "No, it's okay. My…"
He didn't finish. Instead, he stared at her, his blue eyes widening with shock and recognition.
Tamarja stared back. How could she not? Manitac Corporation might have kept her in the deep freeze, but the ice hadn't cooled her libido. This guy sent waves of heat through her by doing nothing more than standing there.
He was tall, with a powerful build that made her wonder why she hadn't broken her nose when ran into his broad chest. His short-clipped blond hair was slicked back, but with a few rebellious strands escaping in the opposite direction. Sharp cheekbones and pale eyebrows accented those blue eyes that now raked over her in a most unprofessional manner, which didn't help her unwelcomed instinct to return the favor.
To her disappointment, his brief flare of pleased recognition settled back into standard Manitac arrogance and superiority.
"What are you doing here?" The sharpness of his baritone voice said more than the words.
Oh boy. His mood dissolved further into anger and judgment, if the vein pulsing at his temple was any indication. Not out of cryo for—she checked the clock projected into her vision—ten minutes and forty seconds, and already she'd managed to piss off a guard. He had to be a guard, given that he wore an all-black uniform with multiple weapons clipped to his belt.
But he wasn't Manitac. The gold epaulets had three stripes, so he had some authority, but the swirling circles of his insignia didn't ping any
memories. Manitac flunkies wore all gray all the time for everything.
"Do I know you?" she asked without considering the consequences. Who was she to question him? She had no memory of this guy, but he sure recognized her, which could only mean one thing: he knew she was a puppet—a mind-wiped prisoner—even if she wasn't wearing the bright-orange jumpsuit of one. Her memories consisted of the aching fear resulting from her mind-wipe and not remembering anything—family, friends, her birthdate—followed by two years of flight school and being forcibly shoved into a cryo tube until someone needed a pilot.
The guy didn't yell at her, though he sure wanted to from the look of things.
Before he could say anything else, another voice rose from inside the office. "It's okay, Daeven. Let her in. We'll talk later. Promise."
Daeven. It must be his first name since the nameplate on his uniform said "Blayde." He looked over his shoulder at the speaker but didn't step away from the door. The voice from the background said something else, but Tamarja didn't hear it. Fog enveloped her vision, and her head started to spin. She reached up to rub her temples to ease the pain as unobtrusively as possible, but she couldn't complete the action before Daeven Blayde turned his attention back to her.
It dawned on her that even as he blocked her from getting into the office, she also obstructed his exit. She was the prisoner here, the lowest creature on the social ladder, and he was…well, she wasn't sure what authority he had, but whatever it was, it was higher than her.
She stepped away from the door and lowered her hands back to her sides, but she still didn't lower her eyes. Daeven Blayde stormed past her and didn't look back.
"Come in, come in, come in," the cheerful voice called from inside the office.
She had no choice, so she made one last attempt to tame her curls before putting on her game face.
The Manitac officer waiting for her leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on two legs. Manitac must have an abundance of hot-looking officers in the upper ranks, because Yohzad Cyrek could challenge the guard in the sexy department. His smile, warm and inviting, soothed her nerves, and her thoughts of that Blayde guy dribbled away. Cyrek's hair, black and curling over his ears, nearly hid the ear jack that projected Tamarja's file.
Manitac operated an extensive civilian fleet, but the company demanded military-style grooming from all its officers. Her breath hitched at a new thought. Was Cyrek another rebellious spirit?
Cool it. You're a damned puppet. Lusting after Manitac officers is a guaranteed trip back into the deep freeze.
She couldn't remember her crimes, but she could remember the prison flunkies dragging her into the medical center of the flight school on graduation day, using high-energy restraints to keep her strapped in the cryo tube until the freeze sequence silenced her.
It had all been read and recorded at her sentencing hearing.
"Tamarja Chase." Cyrek motioned for her to sit in the utilitarian guest chair on the other side of his desk. "You are one lucky woman."
"Why is that, First Officer?" she asked.
He dropped his own chair back onto four legs with a thump. The noise startled her, but she folded her hands on the desk to hide her jumpiness. Casual, but respectful—that was her goal.
"There's an overabundance of corporate pilots, all of them looking for a berth." He removed the ear jack and tossed it onto the conference room desk. Disrespect for Manitac property? Her opinion of this Cyrek increased.
"Placing a sentenced laborer, and a partially mind-wiped one at that, should have been impossible." He laced his fingers across his flat stomach, self-satisfaction oozing from each pore. "I, however, have not only placed you in less than four standard years but also found you a world considered to be near paradise. With the new slipstream terminus here at Jarvis Station, travel time from the Unity Homeport has been cut in half. Dawn's Landing promises to become one of the most productive Manitac colonies in existence. But it needs pilots, and I just supplied them with one of the best."
The name of the colony meant nothing to her. Less than four years in cryo? She clutched her hands tighter. She had feared that she had lost twenty, thirty, maybe even fifty years. Less than four years meant the family she no longer remembered might still be alive. The friends she couldn't name might find her, if they were looking. She bit and then released the inside of her lip to better hide her hope. "A wonderful opportunity."
"One not to be squandered on foolish attempts to seek the past." Cyrek's tone scolded her, his smile tightening for a moment.
She'd thought she had mastered the art of masking her feelings. Cyrek was more perceptive than most Manitac officers.
"Your past isn't something you want to live through again." He took a sip of something clear from a cup, offered her some, but she shook her head. "Best if you move forward and focus on your future. As the Manitac liaison between corporate headquarters and its AuRaKaz subsidiary, I'm the only one who knows of your prisoner status and your sentence. To everyone else, you're a Manitac pilot on loan."
"Then you know who I am? What I did?" Never mind if that Blayde guy knew who she was. She no longer cared if her hope showed.
Cyrek retreated, swiveling about, his dark eyes leaving hers and seeking the stars crossing the view pane. He had answers, she could see that, but would he share?
"I believe…" He stopped and shook his head, clearing away his indecisiveness before turning back to her. "I believe you got a raw deal, Chase. As your legal rep at the time, I successfully argued that your charges fell more along the lines of corporate espionage against Manitac, rather than treason against the Unity government. Though Unity mostly relies on Manitac to oversee the peaceful settlement of both the Calypso and Callisto arms of the Andromeda Galaxy, once in a while they like to remind us of who's in charge."
Her hope halted its slow retreat and pulsed again. Cyrek clearly wouldn't cross the line by giving her a past, but if he had fought to give her this second chance at life, then she had an unexpected ally out here. She needed all the allies she could find.
"But where exactly am I?" she asked. She remembered the basics: the Unity Homeport was located in the Callisto arm of Andromeda Galaxy, the most core ward of life-sustaining solar systems and where humanity had originated. It had colonies scattered along the trailing edge of both arms.
"My apologies." Cyrek shook his head and made a note using his stylus. "I would have thought the medics would have told you. Jarvis Station is in a geosynchronous orbit around Dawn's Landing, the fourth planet of the Dawn solar system located midway along a minor spur between the Callisto and Calypso arms of Andromeda."
His description helped a little, but she couldn't remember the system or the spur. Until she could access a navigational system, she wouldn't really know how much had changed while she was in cryo.
"You're a unique entity," Cyrek continued. "The only partially wiped prisoner in the whole galaxy. You aren't preprogrammed with loyalty to either Manitac or the Unity government. That's a choice you will have to make."
That meant she wouldn't devolve into a full-blown puppet. Manitac meant to keep her this way. "But why?" she couldn't help but ask, not sure if she wanted to know. "What did I do to deserve this?"
Cyrek just shrugged. "Right before your arrest, Manitac Medical had tried to find a way of educating the puppet population to take on more complex tasks than the usual manual labor they're given. Our early experiments proved, shall we say, unsuccessful. The Unity government ethics overseers started to balk about a few deaths that had occurred. So to prevent an entire shutdown of the program, Manitac Medical decided to try a partial wipe on a prisoner. When the call went out, I submitted your name. I knew you would survive the operation with your sanity intact. So far you've exceeded all expectations and proved me correct. All it took was a two-year refresher course, and you are now the owner of a Class III pilot's license."
She looked down at her folded fingers. Refresher course, huh? That could only mean that sh
e’d been a pilot before her wipe. She had never made the connection, but now that she knew she was an admin’s experiment, she didn’t know what to do with the information. Unique in the universe? Given a second chance with her personality and independent thoughts intact? She wouldn't become a mindless drone? She should be grateful, but somehow her gratitude couldn't claw its way past her disgust.
How do you thank someone for giving you a second chance when you're not if sure you wanted one? Her hands started to shake, so she pulled them closer to her body, grinding her nails into the back of her hands. There was no escape. Her head had known that, even if her heart hadn't.
If Cyrek noticed her struggle, he didn't indicate it. Instead, he busied himself by hooking his ear jack back over his left ear and pulling a stylus from his pocket.
