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  STARCHILD

  By

  Jilly Paddock

  ZENITH ALPHA 4013, BOOK 3: STARCHILD

  A Pro Se Productions Publication

  All rights reserved under U.S. and International copyright law. This book is licensed only for the private use of the purchaser. May not be copied, scanned, digitally reproduced, or printed for re-sale, may not be uploaded on shareware or free sites, or used in any other manner without the express written permission of the author and/or publisher. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  Written by Jilly Paddock

  Editing by Dave Brzeski

  Cover by Adam Shaw

  Book Design by Antonino Lo Iacono & Marzia Marina

  www.prose-press.com

  ZENITH ALPHA 4013, BOOK 3: STARCHILD

  Copyright © 2017 Jilly Paddock

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE: RIDDEN BY AN ELECTRONIC DEMON

  CHAPTER TWO: PRIME ASSIST!

  CHAPTER THREE: MASK HERSELF AND APE THE MOON

  CHAPTER FOUR: INSOMNIA AND THUNDERSTORMS

  CHAPTER FIVE: A GHOST IN MY OWN SKULL

  CHAPTER SIX: THE SMARTEST CANINE IN THE WHOLE DAMN UNIVERSE

  CHAPTER SEVEN: A TAME DRAGON?

  CHAPTER EIGHT: A MARVELLOUSLY DANGEROUS MAN!

  CHAPTER NINE: TWISTING THE DRAGON’S TAIL

  CHAPTER TEN: XHA

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: TWO LEGS AND A PULSE

  CHAPTER TWELVE: A GALLON OF WHAT-IFS AND WISHES

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE ANGST-FIELD

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: DAIKOKU

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: A PLACE OF FROZEN-FIRE

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE BONES OF THE FEAST

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE MOON POOL

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE:

  RIDDEN BY AN ELECTRONIC DEMON

  I stepped out of the dream of sleep and into the dream of wake in the space between one heartbeat and the next; out of the blind, unquestioning panic of pursuit inside nightmare into a brilliance of dapple-gold, shadow-green and confusion. Disorientated, I had no memory of where I was, or the time of day, or even of falling asleep, and had to wait for the pattern of data to fall into place.

  Grass beneath me, cross-hatching the bare sections of my skin, and beneath that dry, powdery soil. The subdued buzz of insect life moving around my head in lazy, curious circles, and a wide, shady grove of olive trees, full of thick, syrupy, mid-morning sunlight and quiet. Nothing amiss here to account for my sudden awakening, nor for the fear that still jangled through my nervous system.

  Anna? said the silent voice that lived in a quiet backwater inside my skull, echoing my anxiety. What’s the matter?

  Zenni never failed me; whatever fate and the world might throw in my face, he was always there. He wasn’t a figment of my imagination—to me he was as real an individual as any flesh-and-blood human—my symbiont partner, the persona of the computer I was paired with. At his question the focus of my disquiet came back, the stark, shocking content of my nightmare. It’s Lewis. He’s hurt, maybe dead.

  Your father? Zenni sounded doubtful. He was in good health and fine fettle when we left home. What makes you think that something’s happened to him?

  I dreamt— Even as I tried to fold the impression into words the recollection of it dissolved, faded. I scrubbed the grittiness out of my eyes and tried to focus on the unasked-for precognition. All it gave me was fear, pain and urgency. I can’t be specific, but something feels terribly wrong. Dear God, I hope he isn’t dead!

  Zenni paused for a moment. There are no urgent message alerts and nothing in the news pigeon-hole on the Net. Nothing to account for your alarm.

  His reassurance was no comfort. I stood up, absently brushing grass seed and leaf debris from my back. This isn’t just a case of bad vibes, partner, this is the real thing—one hundred percent, authentic precog, as strong as I’ve ever experienced it. It scares me!

  I wasn’t arguing with you, Anna, I was just stating dumb fact, Zenni said quickly, forestalling any kickback from my temper. I know full well that your intuition is usually accurate and we’ve ignored it before at our peril. What do you want to do about this one?

  That decision didn’t take long to reach. Check it out. I’m coming back now.

  I barely felt his nod of agreement before I teleported. Grass turned to metal-clad deck under my feet, and on Firebird’s screens I could see the web of light that netted the dark emptiness of SanFran ’Port. What time is it here?

  Local time is twenty-three thirty-six. We have an external temperature running ten degrees Celsius below that in the Mediterranean, weather overcast with a light breeze and a sixty percent probability of rain.

  Are you implying that I’m not dressed for this climate? Really, sometimes you’re such a mother-hen!

  Zenni’s avatar for vacation fortnight was an image of Hermes with iridescent wings on heels and helmet—the messenger god winked at me. I ducked into my cabin to exchange my emerald-print cotton T-dress for a jade green velveteen jumpsuit, and swap dusty sandals for gilded leather mules. The need for urgency still prickled on my skin and my anxiety level crept upwards.

  You’ll go straight to Lindsay. There was a touch of question in that statement. Bear in mind that Rhiannon Lane has no business calling on your father at this time of night.

  Maintaining the integrity of my alter-ego came a long way down my current list of priorities. Is Lewis at the mansion?

  According to his appointments file, that’s where he should be.

  I don’t recall asking you to steal data from my father’s private terminal.

  You didn’t forbid it, Zenni returned, stubborn in the face of my scolding. You’re wasting time, Anna.

  Okay, I’m going.

  I reached out with a fingertip of awareness, stretching away from the city to the great house where I had spent most of my childhood, the ochre sandstone mansion perched on a hillside overlooking the small city of Lindsay. Lewis had named the place Lissadell, conceding with his habitual good-nature, to my mother’s whim. Poor Jeanne, she lived there for so short a time.

  There were three people in the house. I didn’t stop to identify or place them accurately—all I needed to know was that the main hallway was deserted. I teleported, from here to there in the blink of an eye and just as quietly. As I landed and caught my balance, I sensed a movement in the room behind me, the library. Its occupant came purposefully towards the door and I wondered if my arrival had been less than silent, or if blind chance had made me unlucky again. In the seconds before the door swung open I was feverishly working on a story to explain my sudden presence here, but the words of it died on my lips.

  “Anna!” Lewis greeted me with warm surprise, which rapidly faded as he saw horror dawn on my face. “What on Earth’s the matter, girl? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

  “I thought—” I couldn’t manage to say any more, thrown by his ill-chosen phrase. Fragments of nightmare flashed about me, and although my father looked well enough, there was a wrongness about him that I couldn’t define. “I’m sorry to disturb you...”

  Lewis waved my halting apology aside and took my arm, guiding me back into the room. “Sit down, my dear. I’ll pour you a drink. Lord knows, you look as if you need one.”

  I accepted the chair and the brandy without protest. The mansion’s library is a wonderful room, panelled and floored in satiny brown wood, its narrow windows curtained with dark-copper velvet, with that colour echoed in the sombre patterned rugs and the trio of leather-upholstered chairs. It doesn’t really matter that most of the page-books on the shelves are sham—not even the Delany fortune could buy that many of the real thing. Despite that, the place has the right dry, dusty smell. The still atmosphere and
the measured, dependable tick of the antique clock steadied me by degrees, the whole room flooded with the essence of peace and unshakable calm. I thought of the long afternoons I’d spent here, curled up in one of the spacious chairs, absorbed in the chosen volume of the day, content in the belief that if the whole world fell to pieces this haven would remain intact, as surely it was invulnerable and proof against any catastrophe. Zenni shared my memories in a silent rapport, while Lewis watched me with a stillness that matched the room’s, until my wits had recovered.

  “Is it that close, Anna?” he asked eventually.

  Hurled back into the deep end, I struggled to swim. “What do you mean?”

  “My death.” Lewis surveyed me with that famous shrewd, blue gaze. I tried to hold up a mask and give nothing away. “Come now, daughter, don’t take me for a fool. The last I heard you were vacationing in Greece, then here you are, utterly unexpected, arriving late at night, without warning, and you practically faint with shock at the sight of me. What else brought you back if not a premonition of my death?”

  ‘As if you’ve seen a ghost’—those words had been chosen deliberately then, to provoke a reaction. I should have known. Did Lewis ever do anything by chance? “I thought you were already dead.” I confessed. “Thankfully, my intuition was wrong.”

  “Certainly was. Not only am I alive, but I’m hale, hearty and bouncing with health, as you can see.”

  I felt Zenni run a remote scan. I don’t detect any immediate threats to his well-being. His pulse is strong and steady, and his blood pressure is within normal limits.

  “So you’re fine—really?” Empathy gives you a floodlit window into all the best techniques of lying, and I knew damn well Lewis wasn’t letting me anywhere near the truth.

  “And you came all the way back from the Mediterranean on the strength of a hunch, just to make sure that your poor father was all right? I’m flattered you care so much.” He raised his glass in salute, then drank. I didn’t miss the slight tremor of his hand. “I suppose you flew in this afternoon, as the late jet doesn’t touch down until after midnight?”

  “I didn’t fly.”

  “Ah, yes, you have your own unorthodox means of transport. I’m sorry, sometimes I forget that I’m talking to more than just my daughter.” He turned away, ostensibly to top up his glass, but really to hide the twinge of bitterness that crossed his face, not realising that I could feel it. “Sorry again—we shouldn’t be discussing such sensitive matters.”

  “Why not? Officially you have no knowledge of the Zenith project, but we’re both aware that’s a few steps away from the truth. We might as well talk openly about Earth Intelligence—who’s to hear us? This room is free of all bugging devices. We checked it over as soon as I came in. Force of habit, I’m afraid.”

  “You and that bloody computer!” He laughed, very briefly. “Don’t take offence, Anna, please. We’ve never really talked about your pairing, have we?”

  “No. Do you want to?”

  Lewis nodded, grasping at a chance to change the tack of the conversation. “Tell me what it’s like to be half of a duality. I’ll admit that the very idea of such an unnatural relationship fascinates and repulses me at one and the same time. You’re ridden by an electronic demon—how does it feel?”

  From anyone else such a question would have set my blood boiling, but from my father I could forgive a multitude of sins.

  So I’m a demon, am I? Zenni sniggered malevolently. Your evil, satanic familiar, leading you into temptation?

  I struggled to find the right words to express what existed within our arcane partnership, painfully conscious of Zenni’s constant and inescapable eavesdropping. “It feels surprisingly normal. I can’t recall clearly what it was like to have to think alone and it doesn’t seem strange to me at all. Most people who aren’t paired assume it must be intrusive or irritating to have a voice inside your head—I think they equate it with madness—but it isn’t like that. My Zenith doesn’t sound or act like a machine, and I do tend to think of him as a real person, as a friend. Sometimes I’m almost sure that if I turned my head suddenly I’d find him standing beside me, or if I sneaked a look out of the corner of my eye I’d catch a glimpse of him. Can you understand any of that?”

  “Maybe you can’t appreciate it unless you’ve experienced it.” Lewis leaned towards me, caught up in the concept. “Tell me about the psionics, Anna. Does it give you a kick to have such power?”

  “That’s a hard one to be honest about.” I chewed at my lower lip. “Knowing that you’re one of around thirty individuals in the galaxy who can wield psionics—that gives you a buzz, a feeling of superiority over ordinary mortals, even arrogance if you aren’t careful. Inside combat you reach the peak of it; there’s a beautiful, savage joy in being faster, stronger and smarter than any unmodified human you might meet. Most of the time, though, it feels like a natural part of me. I don’t think about it, I just do it. Perhaps if I did stop to think I’d realise exactly what I was attempting, and that instant of doubt would reduce all my power to nothing.”

  You don’t have the capacity to doubt, Anna. That’s what makes you such a good partner.

  “And what can you do? What are your limits?” Lewis continued, his eyes glittering. “I talked to Chandre about you, just after your return to Earth. She seemed in awe of you and that amused me. I couldn’t imagine anyone being afraid of my flighty, flirty daughter!”

  “Chandre rates us too highly. I’m not sure we deserve the pedestal she puts us on.”

  “But you are Earth Intelligence’s prime pair, aren’t you, their number one?”

  “Once upon a time I was EI’s worst enemy.” I smiled at the memory. “They thought me very dangerous then.”

  “And are you?”

  “I suppose so.” I grinned. “I’m afraid that your little girl’s grown up to be a very unpleasant woman. If you knew what I’d done, you wouldn’t like me very much.”

  “On the contrary, I like you more now than I ever did.” Lewis confessed. “You were such a reckless, obnoxious teenager I had my doubts that you’d grow up at all, in one piece and with some semblance of sanity, and here you are, mature, responsible and working for the good of society.”

  “I haven’t given up on being reckless!” I admitted, listening to Zenni’s laughter somewhere at the back of my brain.

  “You can’t be that much of a hot-head to have come unscathed through five months worth of missions for EI.”

  “They haven’t exactly been stretching us. We’ve delivered data-chips, done a spot of bodyguarding, stolen a couple of items to order—nothing particularly risky or exciting.”

  “Do you kill for them?” Lewis asked.

  “I’m not an assassin.” I said quickly, not caring for this new direction.

  He saw my discomfort. “Okay, Anna, I won’t enquire any further. I don’t want to know if there’s blood on your hands. That’s between you and your own conscience, and it’s none of my business. Keep your secrets and I’ll keep mine, but if you will, tell me a little about psionics. Show me what you can do.”

  “You want us to perform for you?” I shook my head, then turned the gesture into a shrug. “Well, why not? EI has us all hung up on a big security kick—use your talents, but don’t ever be seen to use them. Hide your power. It’s even written into the Zeniths’ programming, as if what we’ve been created to do is rather suspect, not quite nice, something to be ashamed of and not admitted to in polite society.”

  ”You make it sound like a sort of sexual perversion!” Lewis chuckled. “Closet espionage? There’s a heap of clever psychology behind it, of course. Make your agents more than human, enough to be useful to you, then curb and control their power by loading them down with dumb insecurities and social phobias. It must have taken a whole team of behavioural scientists years to perfect.”

  “I’ve never thought of it like that.”

  “That’s because you weren’t intended to. EI uses an entire palette
of techniques designed to motivate and manipulate its employees. I’ve used such things myself and I recognise them when they’re used on me. All of the upper echelons are guilty—the late Professor Jansen, Dr Lune, even your dear Chandre Marteen. Michael Collins is the most instructive to watch. He isn’t very good at simple social graces and you can spot it a mile off when he tries one of the more advanced tricks.”

  “Why do they imagine that they can fool us?” I wondered. “Our pairing gives us access to empathy, so we can tell when there’s a mismatch between what people say and what they actually mean.”

  “Perhaps they don’t expect you to be on-line all of the time.” Lewis steered me back onto track. “How does empathy work? Show me a handful.”

  “It’s just an extension of a normal person’s trick of reading body language and subtle facial expressions. The easiest thing to do is watch the fluctuations in your victim’s aura. I ‘see’ emotions as ‘colours’; anger is red or orange, misery is grey, contentment runs through all the shades of yellow, from palest primrose to gold, and jealousy really is a green-eyed monster. With empathy you have to be careful not to get too close. Strong emotions—anger, fear, that kind of thing—tend to rub off on the ‘reader’, which is very disturbing and sometimes even out and out painful.”

  “Telepathy.” Lewis counted each item off on his fingers. “Are you reading my mind now, Anna?”

  “No. I don’t trespass into the heads of people I’m close to. It isn’t polite.” To tell the truth I had the child’s fear of learning her father’s innermost thoughts, especially when my intuition was certain he was hiding a bombshell from me. “Telepathy is a lot more complicated than it sounds. For a start some minds are wide open to reading, while others are ringed around with brick walls, barbed wire and even worse natural or learned defences. I can get through most mental shielding, although not without alerting my victim. It causes pain to crash in too hard.” I reached for a suitable analogy. “Think of the human mind as a pond; it has a bright, shiny surface, easily spotted from afar, but reflecting any curious gaze, while current thoughts skip across the liquid like water-boatmen, their feet not even piercing the meniscus. Deeper in you’ll find tides of ideas and little shoals of notions swirling through encrustings of memory, like a submarine forest of weed, and at the bottom, the primaeval mud of the id.”