Sky 3: Emerald Mara

By William Amerman

The legend of Muldoin continues. Nick and Anna struggle to save Ground 42 from exploding in civil war. Anna's father has either murdered five scientists or has been framed for it. The Special Police colonel responsible for the uprising has lost access to his anti-psych meds. Two brothers show up to lead Nick and Anna to areas of the World kept secret for centuries. And Detritus Machine, the most fearsome Deformer in the history of the Deformer Corps, wreaks absolute destruction on everything that stands between himself and the object of his fury.

Sky3, Emerald Mara, extends the story of an enormous, self-contained World that was constructed over seven hundred years in the past. The World houses over eighty million people who have no knowledge of what, if anything, exists outside the walls. Until one of them finds out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Amerman
• Release date: Feb 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311518972

William Amerman

William Amerman was born in Houston, Texas and obtained his Bachelors degree in English from The University of Texas - Austin, way back in the last century. He lived in Austin for eight years, then moved to Denver, Colorado to explore the whole "mountain man" lifestyle. In Denver he met a cute Dutch girl on a ski slope, whom he quickly wooed and followed back to her native country, The Netherlands. He married the cute Dutch girl in 1999 and they spent the next 7 years raising two sons and a sadly over-weight hound in a suburb of Amsterdam before moving back to the US in 2003. Their third son was born in 2005.He received his MBA in Finance from Santa Clara University in 2009 and currently holds a "real" job in Information Technology in order to feed his three sons, but manages to write in the mornings and on weekends. His latest efforts are directed towards finishing a futuristic thriller series based on a simple idea he had one late Saturday morning laying in bed, looking at the sky through a skylight window in the roof; proving that getting up early can be a hazard to creative thinking!Contact information via email is: [e-mail] free to contact him to discuss any of his works, writing in general, and especially with offers of pints of Guinness.

Book preview

Sky³

Emerald Mara

William Amerman

Copyright 2015 by William Amerman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Published 2015

Cover: Glendon Haddix – Streetlight Graphics

Edited by: Red Adept Editing

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people unless you really like it and, well, can't help yourself.

Dear Reader,

Emerald Mara is the third book in the Sky series. However, if you wish to read the books in chronological (story) order, you should start with Sky², then Sky³, then Sky¹ (which takes place ten years after Sky³). The reasons I wrote the books out of order should become apparent in Sky⁴. But some folks would rather read the series in order, so I thought I'd try to help. I hope you enjoy the story.

-Bill

Chapter 1

Ground 42 – Muldoin, Woensdag – 17:55, 2759

Utter. Fucking. Despair.

For the second time in his life, Colonel Trager wished his son were dead. He shoved through the double glass doors of the military recruiting center. His shoes clicked on dark-brown tile as he crossed the vestibule. He saluted two guards standing to the side of the interior doors.

One guard yanked open the door and poked his head in. Colonel present! he shouted into the makeshift command center then stepped back as Trager passed through without slowing.

In the next room, nearly a hundred men huddled in groups or in front of vid screens. No one looked over. Three nights before, Trager had used the hall to give a speech on personal sacrifice to new military recruits. Tonight, he stopped by the closest table. His throbbing face felt raw, and he touched it then looked at his fingers to check for blood. None.

The hum of conversations peppered with words describing the violence men did to each other washed over him. Trager didn’t blame his soldiers for not acknowledging his arrival. They were the command and support team for their colleagues fighting Special Police-funded gangs in Muldoin, and in the aftermath of the conflict, during the post combat analysis, careers would be made. He watched them for another moment, consumed in adoration. Then, on stiff legs, he waded in among them.

Where is Anna? An hour earlier, he’d leapt from an Opel assault rig as a grenade blew up underneath it. He'd found himself kissing hot pavement, stuck to the burning street like a lover refusing to let go. Someone had grabbed him and pulled him to cover, leaving part of his face behind in the street.

He’d assumed it was Anna who had helped him, but when he regained his senses, he saw his rescuer was a scared private. He was irritated—and scared, if he were honest about it—not knowing what had happened to his daughter.

He approached a group huddled around a squatting man arranging papers on the floor. Where the fuck is Daniels?

The squatting man rose, and each man saluted. One of them pointed to the front of the room, where an arched doorway led to a smaller room.

Trager returned the salutes and headed that way. He sidestepped around a corporal waving an Opel maintenance schedule in the face of a mechanic in a tan short-sleeve shirt. Craning his neck to see the green-ink entries, Trager tripped on an exposed power cable. He went down hard, his head missing the corner of a table by inches. Men with concerned faces rushed over.

Get back to work, he barked, ignoring outstretched hands. Tape down that cable.

Men burst into action.

Trager pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his injured shoulder. Halfway to the archway, he found Lieutenant Daniels explaining comms codes to men who looked too young to be soldiers.

Come on, Trager said. He passed under the arch and descended three fake-wooden steps to a command area in front of a low, long window. Placing a hand on the desk they'd moved in here last night, he leaned over to peer into the courtyard.

Orange night lights glowed at regular intervals across a line of businesses thirty yards away, ringing the courtyard. Behind him, low static bled from Daniel's ever-present comms rig.

Trager leaned farther over the table, his cheek flat to the window so he could look out the narrow walkway to the main street, where soldiers hurried back and forth, illuminated by wedges of white spotlights. He pulled back. What’s the word on reinforcements?

Our request was reduced. Daniels had the smooth face of a young man who had recently outgrown acne, and his blond hair was cut close to his head.

That’s why we asked for more than necessary. Reduced by how much?

They won’t commit. Certainly not a division.

Reason?

Daniels showed the palms of his hands. They think we're exaggerating.

Trager grunted. Did you tell them Special Police stole our Deform3 rigs?

Of course not.

You used the notes I wrote for you?

Daniels dug into his pocket. Word for word.

Trager made a dismissive hand motion. "I wrote it. I know what it says. We’ve been overrun by gangs imported by the Special Police. Our chancellor has been murdered. Looting and rioting are rampant, and the power and electric guys can’t keep the lights on. I’m responsible for one-point-five million citizens in a city about to go to war. We could use a few more guys with guns on our side. Does that seem like exaggeration to you?"

I checked with a private at HQ who works in the comms division. No one's getting anything. Men, weapons, fuel—it’s all going to the staging area. The Exo-World threat is—

A hoax.

They think it’s real this time.

Trager snorted. It was real once. We took care of that. I spoke to General Leland a while back. When will they decide about the reinforcements?

Daniels shrugged. Said they’ll get back to us.

Trager scratched the back of his hand on the edge of the desk. Any word from my daughter?

No. We know she was at the plaza. After that…

Trager turned to the window, thinking. After a moment, he pointed out the window. I can’t see.

See what?

I can’t see the street on the other side of that courtyard. The street from which our beloved SP brothers will soon attack us.

Daniels ran a hand through his short hair. Back by the coffee machine, we set up a rack of vids with camera feeds showing different angles up and down the street.

I don’t want to monitor the street from the coffee machine. I might as well be down on Ground 24 at HQ with an air moat over my head.

Daniels looked left then right. Okay. I don't know if there's enough room in here, but I’ll have the tech guys uninstall the vids and move them up here so—

You don’t get it. That’s fine. I show up out of the blue, with a face that looks like poorly grilled hamburger. That’s got to be off-putting. I can’t expect you to read the subtleties of my intentions in time of insurrection. So I’ll spell it out.

Daniels stood motionless, jaw set in concentration.

Remove the physical impediments obstructing the view of the street from this window.

Impediments? Daniels repeated.

Trager sucked in his breath. "The structure there. He pointed to the courtyard with its ring of businesses. Remove that structure there, you asshole."

Daniels looked out the window. The Nail Emporium?

Tear it down.

Daniels wilted. Won’t that alter the stability of this region?

That’s why you should probably take an engineer with you.

Daniels licked his lips, and his next words came like gushing water when someone knocks a hose loose on accident. You’ve always told me to speak my mind and not be blind to logic and consequences when accepting orders, so I have to mention the… He paused for a huge breath. Well, Major Fuchs and his instructions regarding your, um, your… His hands tapped his sides.

Trager fixed his gaze on the lieutenant’s eyes. My what?

Authority to alter. His voice was almost squeaky.

The internal scoreboard Trager used to track the development and weakness of all his men blipped one positive point for Daniels’s total score. Brave little fucker.

Your authority to alter mission parameters, Daniels finished, his face pink and sweaty with regret. And as the World protectors, it might not set a very good example if we are seen destroying the structures of the World?

Trager felt a simmer of injustice rise to a slow boil. The events of the past days—especially the arrival of the major—had affected him, as noted by the ache in his stomach and the stammering lieutenant in front of him. His mind went to his daughter again, and he regretted it. He rubbed his face. The heat and white eyelid-searing flames of the burning assault rig seemed embedded in his wounded cheek. His chest hurt, too, as if he couldn't draw a full breath. Dizzy and facedown in the street, he’d felt the volume of the gunfire and explosions as vibrations that thumped his chest through the blistering street. Please, God, if you're not too busy laughing at what we've done to this World, deliver my daughter safely.

I appreciate your concern, Trager said. He held his breath for a five-second count like Ena had taught him, then exhaled. You're correct. We are the protectors of this World. Sometimes to protect something, you have to destroy a bit of it, but you’re not married, so you won’t understand that part. Begin the study of how you might remove the structure, but don't act until you hear from me. In fact, notify the current owners to let them know that their—Trager glanced out the window—"Nail Emporium will look quite different in an hour or so. We will, of course, compensate them for their loss."

He dropped his voice into a low, languid tone of patience. "Before you begin this study, go find me the cock-sucking major. Now, Lieutenant."

Yes, sir! Daniels saluted and strode back into the main room.

Gazing out the window, Trager pulled a folded necklace from his uniform pocket. His thumbs traced old patterns on the small, hard object hanging from the cord. He’d asked for a division, expecting a brigade. With a brigade, he could defend and hold this command post as well as his other two bases, Ruyter and Nassau.

However, if HQ bought into the latest Exo-World hoax and sent no one, he would have no significant means of resisting SP anywhere in this city. He would have to abandon all three bases then try to capture the elevators. If that plan failed, he couldn’t stop SP from leaving Muldoin with the Deformer suits they'd stolen earlier from the military labs. And unlike some made-up story about the Exo-World attacking, the SP’s possession of those suits was a true risk to the World.

Colonel? The voice behind him prickled the hairs on the back of his neck.

Trager stuffed the necklace back into his pocket, keeping his back to the major while watching his reflection in the window. Major Fuchs stood half a head shorter than Trager. His black curly hair had receded, leaving a weedy clump in front. The major waited, pushed his glasses up his nose, waited some more, then finally saluted Trager’s back. Trager mustered a gesture roughly ten percent salute and ninety percent Go to hell.

You have returned, Major Fuchs said, moving beside him.

You have a remarkable grasp of the obvious, Trager replied.

I noted your departure in my file, the major said. I don’t have to advise you of that.

I’m grateful for your candor.

You weren't authorized to leave this command center, the major said, straightening his collar.

Trager faced the major. Which command center? We have three in this city, weakening our position.

Your departure was not authorized, the major repeated.

We’re at war, and you speak to me of authorization?

"We are not at war, Major Fuchs said quickly. There is no ‘position.’ Your command is to lead the military recruiting and training center on this Ground, not to antagonize our sister organization. What happened to your face?"

The side of Trager's head throbbed with each heartbeat. I slipped in the shower.

How careless of you.

I’m an old man. We have balance issues.

Perhaps a bath, then?

Perhaps you get to the fucking point?

You are prohibited from issuing any orders that do not pass through your attaché, which is me, due to your involvement in the murder of five Special Police scientists a week ago.

Not involvement, Major. Proximity.

It occurred on your watch.

Yes, accidents happen. I take full responsibility.

In that case, I accept your resignation. Shall I have Lieutenant Perkins draw up the papers? the major asked. Although, don’t you have another three months before retirement? Hmm, that pension. The major was surprisingly calm.

Know your enemy. You need me more than I need you. Trager turned back to the window. You just don’t know it. He watched Daniels outside, pointing back to Trager’s window and explaining something to a skeptical-looking man with a light stuck on his hard hat, who had to be the structural engineer. I exercised judgment. An interpretation of my orders. I would do it again.

You command the recruiting and training center in Muldoin. You are not responsible for anything else, and those orders are not open to interpretation.

Except the safety and security of a million and a half people in Muldoin. A small thing for you to forget.

Which you can accomplish by following your orders.

You’re missing the big picture, Trager said. You think it’s an accident the SP labs were based here?

The labs were put here due to the proximity—you like it? I used your word—to the existing SP Artificial Intelligence materials scientists.

I don’t have time to debate past decisions, Trager said. Or worry about you weakening my military with your fantastic rigidity. Here’s the situation. Our barracks are next door to us. Our Ruyter and Nassau bases remain, for now, under military command even though they are on opposite sides of the city. The SP troop elevators farther down the street are under SP command. I expect an assault from SP within a short time.

That’s ridiculous. Where are you getting your intel?

Where are you getting yours?

I’m in regular communication with Colonel Donaghan’s chief staff officer.

That explains your assessment. You're collaborating with the enemy.

The major’s gaze went to the wound on Trager’s cheek, then he blinked and looked over at the room full of busy men. Someone is winding you up, Colonel. There's only one enemy, and that's the Exo-World.

Don't tell me you believe that crap, too? Trager leaned down to a comms mic coming loose from a ragged line of tape securing it to the desk. Lieutenant Daniels? he said into the mic.

Daniels made a big gesture to the engineer, arms wide as if he wanted to console him, trying to hug him and his entire family at the same time. Then he dropped a hand to activate his mic. Yes, Colonel?

How's it coming enabling my view?

The engineer doesn’t like it. In fact, it would be accurate to say he thinks it’s the worst idea he’s ever heard.

He doesn’t have to like it. He just has to make it happen.

The major peered out the window. What are you doing out there?

Daniels continued: He says his risk matrix for this sector would have too many out of tolerance—

How about the new material? The adaptable pre-fab Deform3 material? Don’t we have some samples like the ones brought back from my daughter’s apartment? His stomach knotted at the reminder of Anna. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

I’ll check. He waved at the engineer, who had his arms crossed in front of him. They conversed, the engineer shook a fist at Trager's window, then Daniels came back on the line. Negative, sir. He says it’s all at the lab, and even if we did have it, he’s not trained to apply it.

There was nothing at the lab because Trager had ordered the labs destroyed, but he didn’t want to go into that with the major standing behind him. Why doesn’t he fortify the edges, then? Look for the weakest spots and build supports before he tears down the main building? Pre-fab the hell out of the edges and everything. It doesn’t have to look pretty. It just has to not collapse. He wondered what the first in-Ground combat in decades was going to do to the engineer’s risk matrix.

Daniels nodded, switched off his mic, and relayed this information to the engineer, who hunched over as if Daniels had slugged him in the chest. Trager sighed, and the major stirred beside him.

Colonel, take a look around. You have three months to retirement. What are you doing?

Protecting our men, our city. He spoke into the mic again. Daniels, come back inside.

You realize I have the authority to countermand any order you issue?

Daniels entered through the door to the left of the table.

Yes, Colonel?

Get me the comms guy. I want all data flow on this Ground cut and directed through our comms spider.

You don’t have the authority for that, the major interjected. The Special Police directors to the Security Board will be outraged.

Daniel’s eyes widened, unblinking. Something beeped in the bag fastened to his waist.

Go ahead, take that, Trager said.

This is Dawn Seeker, Daniels said into a hand unit.

Trager spoke over Daniels’s head. Major, your security board isn’t my responsibility.

You’re an officer in this military. Antagonize SP, and you antagonize our leadership, as well. Surely you don’t want that.

So countermand my order. Take responsibility.

The major stared back at him. Then he licked his lips and looked down to Daniels, who was still hunched over, focused on his comms unit.

Trager took a step forward. That's what I thought. Major, I was assigned to command this post. You probably view this as a demotion, as a disgrace for a man who has given so much of his life to his military.

Daniels held a hand close to his head as if he were having trouble hearing the other person on his comms unit.

"This is the last assignment I'll have. My pension is waiting for me. I have to do nothing other than pass the next three months of my life here, and I will be comfortable for the rest of my life. If I approached my job like that, I would be a disgrace."

I never said disgrace, the major said. I can understand the temptation to make more of your last assignment than what it is, though.

SP is threatening this World.

How? That doesn’t even begin to make sense.

They control security for all Upper-World grounds?

Yes.

Look at how well connected they are with the government. Look at how they’ve basically taken over Muldoin.

That’s your theory?

A provable theory. How about those budget cuts every year? Those are theory, too?

Our budget, I’ll grant you, is a concern.

The only reason SP tolerates us is our Deform technology. They want it. They think our World is a fortress, that all we have to do is close everything up, raise shields, and we don’t need a military to defend against the Exo-World.

I thought you said the Exo-World is no threat?

"With Deform3 technology, there is no threat to our World Structure from the outside world. But hundreds of miles of supply chain that supplies the resources to keep our World running, as well as the mines and factories of New Essen, are definitely vulnerable."

Ah, yes. I've heard you're one of those native lovers, aren't you?

Trager flinched. I—

Colonel, Daniels said. The labs have been overrun.

Who reported that?

Daniels put his hand back up to his ear. Um, yes. No reports of any military personnel inside. It is— He looked up. Ransacked and deserted.

Deserted? Trager tried to look surprised, at least as if he were struggling for the right words, for the major’s benefit. He had dealt with the lab situation. He cast an appraising glance over at the major to see how he was taking the news.

The major glared at Daniels as if the lieutenant were personally responsible for the labs being overrun.

Yes, sir. No one was there.

Trager was heartened to see Daniels ignore the major’s stare with exaggerated apathy. A muscle in Trager’s left hand started to tremble. To hide it, he rubbed the raw side of his face, winced, then let his hand drop to his side in a loose fist. Wait. Someone has to be there. Who reported this?

Daniels cleared his throat. A Special Police lieutenant.

Trager gave the major a wry look before motioning for Daniels to patch him through on his earbud.

Colonel, the voice buzzed into his ear.

Lieutenant. I hear you boys are on military property.

Negative.

Good. I appreciate your respect for—

The Ground 42 laboratory complex is under the protection of Special Police.

Trager tapped the mute on his earbud and looked over at the major. They’ve taken over the labs.

The major put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

Trager tapped the earbud. That’s a military installation, Lieutenant.

Sir, be advised our actions were to secure the labs and prevent any incursion by unauthorized civilians.

Well, we appreciate that. We’re stretched pretty thin, dealing with all the rioting and gang violence around the city. On whose authority did you take this action?

Colonel Gregory Donaghan, sir.

Trager tapped his fist against his chin. Okay. You boys sit tight. I’ll have a military team there to relieve you—

Negative, sir. Our orders are to defend the labs.

Which, as I told you, we are deeply appreciative of. You will stand down as soon as my team—

Sir, this is a courtesy call. I am to inform you that the labs are secure, even though they were pretty beat-up when we got here, and that this action should not be construed as anything beyond the parameters of our new collaboration agreement.

Fine, fine. You’re camping out in our labs. Knock yourselves out. Now, in the spirit of collaboration, tell me—are any of the new materials there? Any Deform suits? He heard voices then a click as the lieutenant muted. Trager had ordered his military team to do their best to find any Deformer, new material, or research notes, but they’d reported back that nothing looked like a Deformer suit. So Trager had ordered them to wreck the place. He leaned his hip against the hard edge of the desk. Major, you might prove useful, after all. Who at HQ would be able to give us an inventory of Deform gear held at the labs?

The major crossed his arms over his chest. That's classified.

Trager took another Ena-inspired belly breath. Woman, I do this because I love you, but it really doesn't seem to calm me down at all. Perhaps you will recognize the precariousness of our situation? It’s possible that SP stole not only samples of our new pre-fab material, but also full-bore Deform3 suits.

"Then that theft was caused by your incompetence, the major said, his hands out as if he were poised to applaud. You are at fault."

Click. The SP lieutenant’s voice came on the line. I’m not authorized to speculate on that topic.

What did you do with our guys?

We found no one. Colonel, I have to go.

Trager leaned forward, fists on the table. You better dig in good, Lieutenant. Because we’re coming to reclaim our property. And when we come, we come heavy and hard. Tell your fucking colonel that, as a quote please.

The comms unit deactivated, and Trager straightened.

Major Fuchs took a step back, blinking. Did you just threaten an SP lieutenant?

Trager spun the frequency selector through channels of ops conversations until he found the red-nine emergency-only mode. Silence. In his younger days, he would have cursed his current mental state as indecision. He considered calling his mentor, Leland. No. Hopefully, Leland was getting his reinforcements.

Ignoring the major, whose blinking had shifted to arm rubbing, he turned to Daniels. Shut down all access to and from this Ground. I’m invoking a restriction on intra-Ground mobility and immigration. No data, no people. Stop the bits, and stop the meat. Secure all immigration elevators, all troop elevators, maintenance hatches—everything that provides intra-Ground access.

"SP controls those elevators, sir. I mean, I know you know that. I guess we could request their cooperation and—"

Inform Jefferson and Chiellini that Operation Rabid Sky is a go. SP took our labs, and SP controls every bit of Deform technology—including any rigs—that they found. If that material leaves this Ground, we’ll never get it back. And if we never get it back, then so help us God.

The major put out his hands as though he were waving down a taxi. On whose authority do you think you can order these things?

My decision. My authority. Fuck you all, Trager said. He strode off toward the bathroom.

Chapter 2

Nick hid with Anna under the stage as thousands of panicked people fled the plaza. In the first moments, people tried to flee the plaza, tripping and running blindly. Men fought in groups of two and three, pulling shirts and launching wild over-the-shoulder punches. The lights came on, then the lights went off.

The crack of rifles ripped the air as SP troopers advanced from the stage toward the heart of the plaza. Marching outward, the troopers maintained formation, stepping on people, who had either been shot or trampled, lying on the cobblestones. Nick saw no sign of the head of white hair that belonged to Teddy, his newspaper editor. Next to him, Anna was hunched in a squat, rocking back and forth, arms hugging her body. In the gloom, her pink hair looked brown.

He spoke into her ear over the din of the riot. Are you hurt?

She kept rocking. She hadn’t said a word since they'd jumped from the artificial sun onto the stage, too late to stop the Deformer from slicing Alonso in half.

I’ve got to find Teddy. He rubbed his throbbing ankle, which he’d injured while leaping—no, being pushed by Anna—off the sun moments ago.

Still squatting, she reached up, lost her balance, and grabbed one of the stage supports.

He slid a hand lightly around her waist and spoke softly into her ear. "Anna, I’m going to go look for Teddy. I’ll be right