The Vinctalin Legacy: Survival, Book 1 Harvest

By Vanda Denton

What will you be doing Monday morning? Catching the 6.45 to Paddington? Taking the kids to school? Or will you wake up to a new world. One in which you find yourself threatening to slit the throat of a fellow inmate?
Discover the galaxy that is ruled by the Vinctalin. Lies, propaganda, forced addiction, slavery, culling and torture have been the rule for countless millennia. Earth has ripened and will no longer remain untouched. Except this time the Vinctalin have made an error.
In this complex and thrilling fifteen-part post-apocalyptic sf series enjoy an intriguing introduction to the unexpected heroes who will alter the course of galactic history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781326484989

Book preview

The Vinctalin Legacy: Survival, Book 1 Harvest

The Vinctalin Legacy

Survival

Book 1: Harvest

Vanda Denton

The Vinctalin Legacy Survival: Book 1 Harvest

© 2013/2017 Vanda Denton

All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers and/or authors.

This book and others in the series are available from www.vinctalin.com

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ISBN: 978-1-326-48498-9

The Vinctalin Legacy

A series of novels by Vanda Denton

The Vinctalin Legacy: Survival

Book 1: Harvest

Book 2: Sacrifice

Book 3: Spawning

The Vinctalin Legacy: Retaliation

Book 4: Infiltration

Book 5: Alliances

Book 6: The Veekeren Element

The Vinctalin Legacy: The Ovinka

Book 7: Zondex

Book 8: The Message

Book 9: Veekeren

The Vinctalin Legacy: 0.0015%

Book 10: Alien

Book 11: Integration

Book 12: 0.00075%

The Vinctalin Legacy: Awakening

Book 13: Covert Operations

Book 14: Miss Kitty

Book 15: Humanity

Introduction

These are the chronicles of a heroic little band of gritty diehards who refused to submit to tyranny. Plans are devised by Jonathan Trad-Williams, a stubborn and in some circles renowned, business tycoon who always dares to think bigger and further than others. One outraged special-forces veteran, Benjamin Stanzini provides the practical skills that give life to those plans. And when the doers and schemers underestimate the results of their actions in human terms, the compassionate Dr. Byefield steadfastly picks up the pieces.

Survival is the first in this major story line within the fifteen book Vinctalin Legacy series taking us from their initial encounter with the Vinctalin, through appalling discoveries to the audacious schemes that will keep them all alive. Survival Is presented in three parts. Book 1 sees basic survival turn to desperate rebellion by those unexpected heroes who discover the nature and the extent of the Harvest.

Prologue

Halbolival reclined the big comfortable seat, relaxing into it luxuriously. Now there were thousands of ships leaving the fleet, taking up orbit and calculating details. All was proceeding smoothly, and the data flashing up on the dull, pale ochre screens was proving very promising. Commands and reports over the communication systems were precise and ordered.

Idly, it extended and retracted its new wrist spike as it listened to the various exchanges over the open channels.

There are satellites.

Indeed, it is riper than many.

All pods have opened and saturation is complete.

There are far more Veekenites than we can use.

This time we can fill our storage tanks with the best. Tell the engineers to prepare their labs now. They must complete their work quickly, and move on.

Metals are abundant, but low grade. See that all are fortified. It is vital we have the new fleet for the spawning. There is much to be done.

This world is rich in most jewels but there is no lekka or cytrel.

Take the young with you. We have travelled far too long. They must begin gaining experience.

Is there no clarity on that rogue signal yet?

It could be a natural phenomenon.

Halbolival’s eyes opened a slit.

"Or Panshesinan, it could be a rogue. Halbolival tapped the orange cytrel gem, sending its message through to Panshesinan. There are some from our linkage who cannot be trusted. Work on identifying that signal."

It relaxed back into the well-upholstered seat, and continued listening to the open channels of the other ships.

Horgelerol, have you found suitable locations for the spawners?

Awaiting your command Rakvelerol.

Take them down and begin your engineering.

Halbolival stood languidly, and strolled across to the viewing port to watch Horgelerol’s massive engineering ship break away to head for the surface.

‘Excellent engineer.’ Halbolival considered anew how strong and healthy its clan had remained.

Once more it checked the dull data monitors before settling back in the large seat, listening to the open channels, whilst studying its aging retractable talon.

This is going to be the best harvest for a hundred years, it murmured with contentment, whilst the well-oiled machinery of the clan set about its business.

Chapter 1

It was a harsh life that brought him to this place. And it was a good heart that motivated him. A painful past tested his resolve while a strong desire to rectify the faults of others fought to reign over mind and body.

He kicked the rubbish at his feet, aggressively crashing cans into the filthy shadows of this dark, dank, derelict shelter. The corner he felt to have been shoe-horned into, was suffocating him. The urge to set off running, leaving behind this strangling responsibility all but lit rockets under his feet. Like a tightly wound spring abruptly released, his lithe young body uncoiled in an explosion of fury. The beer bottle catapulted from his fist to smash violently into the wall.

His hands followed their habitual reaction to this all too frequent experience of powerlessness, rising to is head, clutching cruelly to his hair. Ripping at it. With teeth clenched to keep in sounds he’d at times been beaten into internalising he glanced up briefly at the shards of glass glinting in the shafts of the last light of day breaking through cracks in the boarded-up window. His heels menaced dust and debris as truths began sinking in. Old and recent memories had him folding down to squatting, cradling his head in his arms, while he tried to decide if he really needed to be here. Finally, he began facing an inescapable fact. This time he must not abandon those he’d worked so hard to rescue.

He pictured the middle-aged man who had complained about him loitering near the school gates. That had been the same man, a father of one of the privileged kids, staring at them when he dragged the girls out of sight into an alley off School Road. He had looked out from that black place, seeing all the parents chatting at the school gates, welcoming their loved and wanted children with smiles and kisses.

He had no idea what punishment they’d slap on him for this, if they caught him. He reckoned that officious shit scurried into the Head’s office as fast as his feet would take him, demanding the police be called. He’d be desperate to get the dirt out of his school. The school in an area where the rich bought luxury houses. A school they wanted to maintain high standards in. One the likes of his sisters shouldn’t be allowed to sully.

Inevitably, the injustices of his young life clashed and collided through the red mist invading his mind. More bottles, cans, fag packets and unidentifiable mouldy remains were scattered in all directions by the toes of boots not unfamiliar with kicking anything that might release his frustration.

Bloody shits! Poncing around in fancy fucking cars and treating us like scum. They think they’ve got it all fucking stitched up!

Fully aware his temper frightened his sisters, Daniel Spencer didn’t need to look around to see Tylor shrinking into the wall and Kayleigh characteristically wrapping her arms tight around her chest. Not wanting to scare them further he kept a white-knuckled lock on hands eager to lash out, presenting only his back to them, seething.

What we need, he hissed, "is a war, or any fucking mega-disaster that would leave us with a level playing field for once."

Half an hour later he was beginning to settle. That was an improvement. A year ago it would have taken him hours even to have control of his tongue and fists. His temper had been the bane of his life, always landing him in trouble of one kind or another, and with him bitterly regretting it. It was a stormy outburst a couple of months ago that gave the father at the school cause to recognise him a few hours back.

Tylor’s snivelling played on his taut nerves. He had no patience and no training for this. He turned to them sharply, angered less by their ingratitude than the reasons for the predicament they were in.

"Why is she crying again?" desperately he stabbed Kayleigh with the question, even though he knew she was unlikely to respond.

Seeing the despair in her eyes brought back to him his reason for being in this place. No way could he allow self-doubt to creep in now. Of course he was doing the right thing. It was the only path he could have taken, given the circumstances. That telephone conversation he had with Kayleigh had forced him to act immediately. There was no time to get the job and the flat he had imagined taking them to. Finally, he felt able to cope, strolled over to his little sister, slumped to the dirty floor, and put an arm around her.

At last the boy was capable of some gentle coaxing. Come on Tylor, tell me. What’s wrong now?

Avoiding Kayleigh’s betrayed eyes, Tylor drew closer to her brother, but felt unable to admit that the stench of stale urine and vomit was making her nauseous, or even that in spite of it, she still felt hungry. She tried to stop crying but she couldn’t. She knew how hard it was for him to get them food. Daniel glanced across to his other sister, knowing she would be feeling jealous again. In her usual sunken posture with eyes downcast, Kayleigh turned her head away quickly.

We’ll be O.K., he insisted. They won’t find us.

Scanning the huge empty basement, and picturing the crumbling building above, right now he struggled to know how he would keep that promise.

I’ll think of something. I always fucking do. I’ve lived like this for a year. You’ll both be safe if you do what I say. It’ll be dark soon. Then I’ll go and get food.

He might have to steal it, but he was good at that.

When there was no response he added, You know this is better than that fucking shithole you were in. Then with the familiar dread returning, he asked again, more firmly this time, Were you telling the truth?

I told you, Kayleigh responded sullenly, "he only did it to the boys. He was just bloody creepy with us. A fat, stinking bully. You know!"

Of course Daniel knew.

Made us feel stupid and useless. Now the moaning had begun Kayleigh felt the need to ram it home. It was fucking humiliating. And then the slimy sicko would start being nice, especially if the social worker was due to visit. Straight after she’d been he always went back to the old filthy talk and insults and shoving us about, making us do all the work and if nothing needed doing he’d chuck stuff about so he could laugh at us sweating to clear it up while he timed us. She huffed out a huge angry breath mimicking the foster father who often kept her hungry ‘to earn our keep’."

Daniel didn’t bother asking her why they had never complained to the social worker. They learned the futility of that long ago, while he was still in care with them. What really mattered was that they remained ignorant of experiences he’d been unable to avoid.

In reality he had scant comprehension of the troubles and motivations that had him believing he was their hero. Turbulent emotions, confusion over accusations of his collusion in the abuse he’d suffered, had been stilled by a quest to do one good thing. The loneliness of total abandonment by anyone who might have, who should have, cared, had him striving to make someone love him. Having been born with a strong will and having long-since ceased asking questions, he now acted on instinct. The human instinct to love. And by it, to belong.

As always, in a state of flux, Kayleigh’s mood changed without warning. She turned her back on her brother, hiding tears he had no idea were there. Vaguely the teenager tried to remember when her fighting spirit had faded into defeat. She hadn’t even managed to find a single positive thought when Daniel turned up outside the school gates, holding Tylor by the hand. She did, however, remember that was the first time in years she’d seen her little sister smiling.

Somewhere distant she heard words she couldn’t know then would come back to haunt her, as Daniel barked his promise, We’ll never be anyone’s fucking slaves again! They didn’t register because she was sinking back into her miserable memories.

She had been contemplating suicide. There had been a few times in the past when she had got as far as planning it in detail, but somehow always hung on for Tylor. How would a ten year-old survive in that house? Kayleigh ran away twice, but each time she went back because of Tylor. She had never forgiven Daniel for running out on them, but he was here now and it could be his turn to take care of their sister. She knew one thing for sure. No matter what happened now, she would never go back there, or to any other foster home. Kayleigh sloped over to an old crate and sat, head in hands, drifting away either to hell, or maybe this time, to some better escape.

Daniel felt incapable of helping her. As much as he understood her self-pity, it aggravated him. He remembered how he felt at her age. He had fuelled his ire, never admitted defeat, and God knows he had as much reason to as she had. He thought she should be like him and fight anyone who tried to undermine her. He was too young to understand her depression, or to realise how close he had been to a far less quiet, or lone, exit. He was convinced that when she had spent a lot more time with him she would learn to stand up for herself and gain the self-respect she needed. On the phone she had intimated that she wanted to die. He had to make sure she didn’t.

So, the long-dreamed-of flat remained just that: a dream. With a will, the youth resolved to make this work. He knew he was smarter than the average kid living rough. This would do for now, and in the long term he was sure to get a proper place for them all. He was pleased with this building though. Nobody else had been using it the week he dossed down here before fetching the girls. The basement level, below a tall dilapidated building, seemed massive with its many rooms. He felt certain this area was sound, and should others take up residence, easily defended territory. It didn’t even stink as bad as some of the places he’d lived in over the past year. He was a quick learner when it came to survival on the streets and he knew how to keep the girls safe and fed. They could stay here for ages; how ever long it took to make permanent plans.

Kayleigh lay slumped against the crate, unfocused eyes pointing at the wall. She entered a familiar world, yet one she was unaware, in her conscious life, of attending. They had been waiting for days, knowing he was coming, believing the words of their mother. He would be their saviour, and God knows they needed one. This was her first memory. She had just started school and had not wanted to go home, except this time it might be O.K. Dan’s dad would be there to visit Tylor, his two year-old he had seen only once before. Mum said that this time he would stay. And she knew it could be better, because before Gran came to collect her in the morning Kayleigh had not seen the spoon and candle and the rest of the coveted paraphernalia her mother loved more than her.

As was always the way with Gran, when she brought her home from school she pushed the little girl into the house, and left with barely a word. Kayleigh recalled hearing his deep, booming voice, and her heart raced. The scene played out clearly before her unseeing eyes. There he sat with Tylor on his knee: a big Rastafarian with long dreadlocks falling across his face. That was the time when she fully realised that she had no father, but Dan and Tylor did. The colour didn’t really register with her at that time. It was that they were like him, and she was not. Her mother’s eyes had been rolling and little Kayleigh was immediately aware her mum was present in body only.

He was angry. Where’s your Grandmother?

She hardly understood the thick accent, and anyway, was too afraid to reply.

Leaving her mother in that forsaken stupor, he marched them the few hundred metres to Gran’s house. Through misty eyes, Kayleigh had watched him walk heavily away, until the worn-out grandmother dragged her into the house, and called the social worker.

The place they went to was nice. Everything in the house smelt flowery, and looked clean and shiny, but while Kayleigh and Tylor enjoyed the peace, good food and comfortable beds, Dan became more and more rebellious. Because he was always fighting they got moved from one place to another, and Kayleigh learned how not to be noticed when all she really wanted was to be noticed. In the end, Dan was sent to a ‘special home’, while the two girls went to the ‘shithole’ she had just escaped.

That memory reminded her she was here with him now, and she twisted on the old crate to see what he was doing. He’d only been gone half an hour but he’d got everything they needed for the night. Now he was settled under the blankets, with Tylor on one side, and leaving a gap and sandwiches on the other side for her.

Dan hid his surprise when Kayleigh wandered back to him. Tylor was still clinging on for dear life, but at least she had stopped grizzling. She felt very small, warm, soft and vulnerable. He vowed he’d always look after them. Because he knew how much it mattered to hear the words he made that promise aloud. Then when Kayleigh sat stiffly in the space he had made for her he put his other arm around her, squeezing her close as she laid her head stiffly on his shoulder. He felt the burden of knowing she was going to be much more difficult to take care of than Tylor.

There was as much stubbornness as determination in the pledge to keep them free from all harm for the rest of their lives. If nothing else, society owed them and society would pay.

In spite of exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily to any of them. That was nothing new. A hard-earned habit kept them still until finally they drifted fitfully.

Kayleigh awoke before the others. She was cold. Dan had more of her blanket than she had. Instantly alert, hypervigilant as one social worker had labelled her when speaking too loud with a colleague, she was aware of Dan’s stash of stolen goods. She’d seen the candles, saucers and matches amongst the food he’d left for breakfast. She slipped across to the box, felt for the items she wanted and when lighting the candle was careful to keep the flame protected, the light out of her brother’s eyes, until she’d left that room. Only then did she spill hot wax into the saucer to fix the candle that had begun burning her fingers.

Listlessly, unthinking, she began roaming through the rooms of the basement. Even though fluttering shadows from the candle scared her she was soon lost in her familiar private misery. How could she be hungry again already? No wonder she so fat and ugly. Every other girl in Year 10 was slim, pretty and sexy to her jealous eyes. Her mind immediately began searching for the comfort of that which was so often kept from her. It whispered to her to go back and snatch up the food Dan had saved for the morning. Their share too. Yet she knew better than most what it was like to be on the receiving end of his fists. What she couldn’t do was think and plan for another day or accept that he might have plans that could render another day worth living. So, instead of thinking, she pushed on further into the ruins of this building.

She was miserably refusing to allow reason into her mind when suddenly she was confronted by an enormous, black gladiator. She let out a shrill howl of shock as the power of his build instantly registered. Her heart was pounding, her breath caught in her throat, and she could feel the prickles of fear in her face and hands. As she turned to run he grabbed her arm. She heard the dish break as the candle hit the ground. Now he had hold of both arms and was pulling her into a dimly lit room. Trying to resist his strength, and not daring to look up, Kayleigh stared in panic at a detail of shimmering light on the muscular, sable arm and hand which kept her immobilised. She knew he was looking down into her face but she was afraid to meet his eyes. Raising her head a little, she focused on the clean-shaved, strong jaw, and sensuously crafted mouth. When he opened it to speak she looked around desperately for help, trying to pull away. From somewhere a fighting spirit rose in her. She twisted, kicked, pushed and pulled. She found her voice and yelled for Daniel.

The set-up here registered in some manner. There was professionalism she couldn’t quite place, in the battery lamp, the rolled-up sleeping bag and in his cleanness.

She belched air as the man clasped her close to him, leaving no space for her to kick or punch.

From within a distant fog she became aware of his deep, quiet voice. I’m trying not to hurt you but you need to calm down.

Kayleigh said nothing, but struggled less, not because she felt safer but because she ran out of strength. She would never get away from this beast. Maybe this was the end. Confronted with that all too real possibility she realised with startling clarity, that she didn’t want it to be.

Stop wriggling and listen to me. With a small shake, he continued low and firm, You shouldn’t run about down here. There’s broken glass and used needles all over the bloody place. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll let you go when I know you won’t run.

Getting no response, he pressed on. I’m Benjamin Stanzini. Cool people call me Stanzi.

He loosened his grip and she didn’t run. In fact, she stayed close, absently enchanted by the mildly spicy, musky aroma of the kind of man who’d inhabited her teen daydreams.

You’re safe enough if you do as you’re told, he tried again to reassure her.

Stanzi removed his hands from her arms and held them up in the ‘surrender’ sign, so that Kayleigh could see he meant what he said. She tossed her long, greasy, mousy brown hair, but still she would not meet his eyes for longer than one calculating second.

I’m just saying goodbye to my former home, Stanzi explained with a dramatic flourish, and an attitude that she somehow understood.

He had been unhappy and forced to live rough too. Now he didn’t have to. He was like Dan and Tylor’s dad, except he had very neat, short, black hair, rather than dreadlocks. And he wore jeans and a denim shirt, not loose, sloppy clothes. In fact, huge though he was, he was less scary than Dan’s dad. It was all in the eyes and mouth. Dan’s dad had defeat mingled with frustration that threatened to erupt, in his eyes. This man was in total control.

Now that she was not so afraid of him Kayleigh, forever slipping into her own fantasy world, looked into his handsome, dark face and tried to remember how she had seen other girls flirt. She imagined accidentally brushing her hand against his, but she knew she could never do that. Her hands were permanently clammy. She noticed that his skin was several shades darker than Daniel’s. Like Tylor’s, Dan’s was a light coffee brown. Once again she was wishing she had skin the same colour as her brother and sister rather than what she perceived as a sickly insipid beige prone to turning into ugly burning blotches at the drop of a hat. She was trying frantically to think of something to say. It didn’t have to be funny or clever, anything would do. Instead she felt to be the tongue-tied idiot she had always been. Now she was wishing that she could talk like Dan, and never feel scared, like Dan. Then, as summoned, Daniel came crashing onto the scene.

Get your filthy hands off my sister, he bellowed, giving full vent to his raging suspicions whilst pulling Kayleigh roughly out of the way.

Daniel swung hard at Stanzi with his right fist, which was easily blocked by the full grown man’s strong arm. Swiftly he brought in the left, which was dodged athletically, and the right again was blocked.

All the while Kayleigh was yelling, You idiot! He’s not doing anything!

Stanzi let Daniel give him a hard push in the chest, and delivered a rumbling warning whilst waiting for him to calm down.

You don’t know how lucky you are kid. If you’d caught me in a less mild philosophical frame of mind I might have ripped your fucking guts out for that.

There was a respect in the man’s face that confused this lad who had been failed, insulted and abused by every man he’d ever known. It held him back, and quelled his temper a little.

Kayleigh, having regressed to her guarded chest-hugging whilst fearing her brother would push this man too far, mumbled into the strained silence, He’s just saying goodbye to this shitty dump. He’s harmless.

Daniel knew the muscle-bound man in front of him was anything but harmless. He set about telling him that in very rich language. However, at last, when the powerful fighter would not retaliate, Daniel stopped swearing foul insults.

Tylor pulled on his arm, imploring, He doesn’t want to hurt us but if you keep that up I reckon he’ll punch your lights out.

Unafraid, Daniel squared up to Benjamin Stanzini even though he was considerably smaller. At a good six feet, fully-grown and sporting a mighty physique, this man was like a giant compared to young Daniel, but the youngster had not backed down from a fight since he was a little kid. His temper made him powerful and he rarely lost. He allowed himself to continue to boil while Stanzi held his gaze firmly, without threat. The youth threw daggers from his chestnut eyes into the nearly black orbs, but the great warrior returned the stare benignly. Stanzi knew only too well the defensiveness that Daniel felt. He allowed the boy to keep his pride by breaking the lock first.

You kids shouldn’t doss down here for too long. It’s just a matter of time before the whole bloody thing caves in.

We don’t need your fucking advice! snarled Daniel.

Yeh, you’re a hero mate, but I’ve got a decade on you, and it makes me a bloody genius in comparison. Come on kids I’ll buy you breakfast. You can regale me with your stimulating conversation.

Tylor pulled on her brother’s arm, and even Kayleigh showed an interest, so what could he do but say, Mine’s a full English and it doesn’t buy my sisters.

Fine. Stanzi sighed out the aggravation. Nothing like gobby bloody kids to aid digestion.

They emerged into the daylight with Dan grumbling all the way. When Stanzi stopped abruptly the girls stumbled into his mountainous back. He turned to shepherd them away but they were quick to recognise a crisis, and years of harsh training made them want to prepare for self-protection. It was not as though the sight of three dead tramps was so terrible, compared to some things this veteran had seen in the Middle East and around, but he did want to shield the youngsters from it. He looked at them. The girls were confused but Daniel was intensely alert.

They looked up as he sucked sharp and cross on his teeth. We’re going to have to tell the bloody cops.

Daniel was quick. Someone else’ll see them.

Stanzi pushed one of the bodies over with his boot. It was clear the tramps were dead. Even Tylor knew. But there were no injuries apparent. There was nothing to tell why they had died in the middle of this open waste ground, together, with no signs of fighting or assault, resistance, drugs or empty bottles.

Stanzi uncrumpled a tenner from his pocket. Get your breakfast. I’ll do the civic bloody duty thing.

Dan grabbed the money and marched away without a backward glance, but the girls were much slower to move. They caught up with him easily though, because he had stopped dead several metres from the street. Stanzi sensed an ominous atmosphere as he approached the rigid backs of the kids. The unnatural silence for this time in the morning was just registering as he dragged his eyes from the children to where they were looking. Amongst the buildings, in the streets beyond the rough ground, he would normally see the bustle of the early morning city. But here there was no distant sound of traffic or fast, clipped footsteps.

Drawing level with the siblings, Stanzi now also studied the body in the car. He checked out the kids. The girls were in shock but clearly the boy sensed there was more to this than was immediately obvious. Being ex-military, with serious under-cover experience and a natural instinct for danger, Benjamin Stanzini was alerted to a truly catastrophic, as yet unidentified, event. They felt his fundamental change of mood and followed him slowly into the town. Now all fully aware of the eerie lack of sound, and the doom-laden atmosphere, their horror grew with each new, harrowing scene that greeted them.

Chapter 2

He was in that half-waking state, but it was not the pleasant sensation of drifting into a familiar, comfortable order of his normal life. There was intense irritation in the vague awareness of a raging hangover. Jonathan lay there for a while, eyes closed, feeling angry with his own weakness. He despised that failing in himself even more than in others.