Restavek

By James Daniel Ross

When the richest man in the galaxy finds out his estranged daughter was born on the worst cesspool colonized by man, he will hire the Radiation Angels. Lieutenant Todd Rook is Tapped for the mission, one that will haunt him for the rest of his days, and burn into everyone's mind one word: Restavek.

The Radiation Angels Series

Lig

• Language: English
• Publisher: eSpec Books
• Release date: Sep 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781942990086

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Radiation Angels: The Mission Files

Restavek

James Daniel Ross

eSpec Books LLC

Stratford, NJ

PUBLISHED BY

eSpec Books LLC

Danielle McPhail, Publisher

PO Box 493,

Stratford, New Jersey 08084

www.especbooks.com

Copyright ©2015 James Daniel Ross

Cover Art Copyright ©2015 Mike McPhail, McP Digital Graphics

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-942990-08-6

All rights reserved. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher.

All persons, places, and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.

Content Editing: Greg Schauer and Danielle McPhail

Interior Design: Sidhe na Daire Multimedia

www.sidhenadaire.com

RESTAVEK

From the Chronicles of the Radiation Angels

James Daniel Ross

My name is Lieutenant Todd Rook of The Radiation Angels. I am a mercenary. Don’t ask me what that means right now, because I’m finding that the job description gets really blurry the closer you get. I’ve played soldier, marine, paratrooper, scout, bodyguard, buccaneer, and spy. I’ve been shot, stabbed, blown up, and abused on dozens of planets, but this was something different. This was far more dangerous.

My captain walked beside me, more comfortable than I will ever be inside of our brand new, stiff and military-pressed suits. His cybernetic silver eyes stood out starkly against his ebony skin, shielding the world from his thoughts, his gait exuding nonchalance. I tried to copy him, but I just didn’t feel it. My too-human eyes slid across every room and hallway, not only looking for ambushes and escape routes, but counting credits.

I have only been doing this job a few years, but I have discovered that the true sign of absolute wealth is subtlety. I did not have to ask if the wood was real, the silk imitation, or the pets synthetic. Every wall had only a few pieces of art, but I was absolutely sure each one was genuine. Even in the year 2654 the name Picasso still held weight. How the client had gotten it off Earth, I’ll never know. We were escorted by a robot servant to a thickly carpeted, glass-walled office that stood at the pinnacle of his palace. The walls were auto-tinted against the setting sun, but it still spread elegant gold fingers across the bars, computers, and the one surviving Resolute desk.

It hardly seemed to matter at all that the five security personnel shifted in place as they thought of all their hidden weaponry, cybernetics, and numerous other gear for miscellaneous mayhem. I couldn’t complain, I had snuck no less than four weapons past the homeowner’s scanners. I had no idea how many the captain had, but I’d guess it was either dozens, one massive one, or none at all. The focus of the room, and our meeting, was a rather pathetically average man behind the most famous desk in the known universe. He brought only his personality to bear, but it created enough pressure to turn a soul to a cinder and then create a diamond from the ashes. This guy had made so much money that they had made up new numbers to describe the vastness of his bank account. His face, however, was contorted. He held up a hand, stopping my captain and me in place as if he had yanked on a leash.

Forgive me, gentlemen. I am tired of this game, so let me cut to the chase and just ask. The pioneer of thirteenth-generation brain/chip interface technology didn’t need to make any sign to dim the lights, lock the door behind us, turn on white-noise generators, and activate the projector behind him. Again his face twisted as if some hidden fist