Scion: The Kismet Series, #2

By Stephen L. Nowland

A VOICE FROM THE PAST

 

A series of messages recorded long ago draw scavenger Zinada Fierro along a trail of clues left by her ancestor. Haunted by memories dark and foreboding, she will risk all to unravel the mystery that beckons from the past and take up a monumental task left to her family.

 

A CITY STEEPED IN CORRUPTION

 

The post-apocalypse city-state of Mineros is not for the faint of heart. Ruled with an iron grip for decades, Mineros now finds itself under a new kind of ruler, one who wants to improve the lives of its citizens over the ruling elite. They won't go quietly though, forcing the new Executive to balance  his ambitions against the threat of powerful  factions seeking to usurp his position.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen L. Nowland
• Release date: Apr 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224914968

Stephen L. Nowland

I was one of those kids who daydreamed his way through school. All the little adventures I'd concoct in my mind were far more interesting than math or tests or sport. Somehow, I passed the important bits (art and english) and moved on, but always with a creative perspective to my life. It was around 1992 when the magic of reading really sunk into me, for it was then I discovered fantasy novels. Feist, Salvatore & Eddings showed me worlds that fired my imagination, and from that point on I knew I wanted to write the stories that flitted around the recesses of my imagination. Unfortunately, I spent most of the next fifteen years dealing with poor health, including resultant chronic fatigue syndrome which interfered with my life immeasurably, but gave me ample time for thought. An abortive attempt to create a story happened around 1996, but I look back on such things as stepping stones on the road to where I wanted to be. My first complete novel was actually done back in '03, but it was a derivative work based on elements from other stories, something I didn't realise until after I'd written it. The mind can do funny things if you don't keep it on a tight leash! Still, there were some unique points to the story I kept, so I scrapped the rest and began a completely new for Neverwinter Nights, that RPG video game thing you may or may not have heard of. The story was so successful (filled with rich, creamy character development) that I lamented that only people playing the game would ever see it. In 2009, with my health improving, I resolved to novelize the stories I'd written, in addition to developing the world in which they exist as the basis for a new fantasy series. I consider those stories to be merely the first iteration of the saga, for my novels have evolved far beyond the original scope, in terms of detail, plot and character building. Looking back on it now, I can see my style has evolved a very long way from those humble beginnings indeed. Oh, I also paint. You can expect to see more cover art with each title, becoming more technically sophisticated each time.

Book preview

Prologue

In a sea of chaos, Enforcer-Captain Haruki Kimura stood as a pillar of tranquillity. Around him surged a mob of people, grabbing whatever they could before disappearing into the night, while the security forces of the city of Mineros were scattered and leaderless. Haruki paid them no heed, for his gaze was fixed upon the burning hulk of a crashed space ship blocking the streets before him.

It was well over a hundred metres long, so large that its bow and stern were lodged into the walls of tall buildings at either end. Fire and smoke billowed out of several gaps in its cracked and broken hull, and signs of laser fire were scorched onto its sides.

Haruki looked beyond the flickering firelight to the tower just beyond the wreckage. An ancient pillar of dark concrete, glass and metal rising into the night sky, Maddox Tower had been heavily damaged during the fighting that had swept through the city over the last few hours. The surface damage around the base was significant, but paled in comparison to the massive hole ripped through the centre of the thirtieth floor, high above the streets. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air.

Hell of a view, a woman's voice remarked from nearby. Haruki didn't need to turn to know it was his second in command, Veronica Haaldis, a blonde-haired woman with a knack for stating the obvious. Not far away, the sounds of sporadic gunfire could be heard echoing through the streets.

Are they ours? Haruki asked without taking his eyes from the tower.

Sergeant Whittaker's crew are moving in from the west, Veronica answered calmly. She too was a veteran officer of Mineros, where putting down riots was a monthly occurrence. Most people are dispersing, except for a few brave souls looking to grab a few extra things.

Let them, Haruki muttered. Have Whittaker form a perimeter around the ship and tower, out to fifty metres. Only officials get in or out until we have this under control.

And how exactly are we going to do that? Veronica asked before speaking into a small device on her wrist. Haruki glanced at her, noticing her raised eyebrow and blue eyes reflected the cynicism in her voice. He didn't answer, instead walking towards the wrecked ship lying on the road in front of the tower, his boots crunching over concrete rubble.

He moved towards an opened bulkhead on the side of the ship where the prone, still form of an elderly woman lay. Haruki's expert eye spotted multiple contusions and lacerations on her remains, noting it was likely she was beaten to death by the angry mob.

Accustomed to grisly sights like this, he stared down at her impassively, unable to generate any sympathy.

Looks like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Veronica noted, having followed Haruki to the ship.

You probably don't recognise her, Haruki remarked, crouching down to pick at the body. One of her arms was the shining grey of titanium, a metal frame with exposed circuitry and wiring that had been ripped out by her assailants. This is what's left of our former Executive, Kameira Addison.

What? Veronica blurted as more gunfire could be heard in the distance.

You've probably never seen someone die of Aeon withdrawal, Haruki suggested, mentioning the potent drug that indefinitely extended the life of those who took it. Once they run out, it only takes a few days before time catches up to them. Even if she hadn't met her end at the hands of her subjects, she was likely dead anyway. I'm honestly not sure which is the worse way to go.

Veronica moved closer to look, and used her wrist-mounted device to run an identification scan on the corpse. A few seconds later, it confirmed her identity.

That's a whole new kind of creepy, Veronica said with a shudder. She looks like she's been dead for over a year. Haruki reached over and checked the cybernetic limb carefully, and was rewarded when he located a tiny, important circuit inside a little hatch on the back of her hand. He took it and attached it to his own ancient wrist computer, which quickly processed the information contained within.

What are you doing with her ID card? Veronica asked cautiously.

Taking control of the city, Haruki replied in his usual laconic style. He tapped a few commands onto the holographic console on his computer and Veronica's own device chimed a response. Congratulations, you're been promoted to Enforcer-Captain.

Are you... did you just make yourself the new Executive? Veronica asked suspiciously.

Yep, Haruki confirmed as a battered old electric truck entered the controlled area in front of the ship and came to a stop. It had seen better days, having been kept in service decades longer than it had been designed for, but it was big and able to carry a large number of people and their equipment. Like most of the old tech on Paragon, it had been patched together with bits and pieces that had survived the cataclysm that had caused the fall of civilisation and taken just about all the technology with it.

Well this is a proper mess, the work crew foreman barked as he stepped out of the vehicle and looked over the situation. He was Shikavan, a humanoid species evolved from creatures similar to terrestrial sharks. Although he had arms and legs, the species still had a vestigial tail and fluke on their back. His sleek head was pointed and featured a mouth filled with sharp teeth.

Hi Frank, Haruki greeted him. How long do you think it'll take to clear?

Fucked if I know, Harry, the tall alien grumbled as the rest of his crew – mostly human, though with a few of Frank’s cousins as well – emerged and took in the scene. What happened up there? he added, pointing up to the gaping hole in the tower.

Traffic accident, Haruki drawled. My new bosses took issue with something on the thirtieth floor.

New bosses eh? Frank rumbled shrewdly, giving Haruki an appraising look. You in charge now?

Yep, Haruki replied evenly, keeping his eyes locked on Frank's cold black ones. The Shikavan engineer looked up again and shook his head.

First we gotta clear the street. We aren't getting any heavy gear into the tower while there's a badly parked space ship on the ground. We'll have to slice it up and haul it out before we can even make a start up there.

Fair enough, Haruki responded.

Second, we have to do a full check on the tower's lower structure and make sure the whole thing isn't about to fall on our heads. Honestly, I'm surprised the high-rise section hasn't done that already. Looks like your 'bosses' took a big chunk right out of it. Thirdly, are you paying for all this?

Things will continue the way they have before, Haruki assured him.

Right, well Addison owed me about twenty five thousand credits for work done on that ship of hers, so I'm sure you'll be making me whole for that, too.

Once I get in the tower and go over the books, I'm sure I can confirm that, Haruki agreed, though Frank seemed to realise something.

Hang on, you can't pay us until you get into the tower, can you.

Nope, in fact I can't do much of anything until we get up there.

Shit, Frank cursed, turning to his crew of fifteen. Alright people, if you want to get paid, we have to get cracking on this job right fucking now. Break out the cutters, we've gotta slice up this piece of crap ship first.

Truly an inspirational leader, Veronica remarked sardonically as the crew burst into action.

Whatever gets it done, Haruki replied with a shrug. The sound of nearby gunfire caught their attention.

Are you sure you want to be the one cleaning up this mess? Veronica asked as she drew her laser pistol and the two of them headed towards the firefight.

Our new friends didn't give me a lot of say in the matter, Haruki muttered as the two of them headed back into the chaos outside the perimeter.

1

Rebuilding

Sparks flared and spat as the arc welder slowly moved along the sharp metal edge, transforming common junk into something useful. Once the weld was complete, Zinada Fierro stepped back and lifted her visor to check her work. Her large brown eyes surveyed the weld, which was rough by any standards, but nobody was likely to complain.

The metal was coated in a fine sheen of rust, a legacy of years of exposure to the elements. Like most of the buildings in the town of New Kismet, it was made from old wreckage, and just like the people in the town itself, the material was stronger than it looked. This particular building was made from the remains of her house, which was destroyed during the fighting nearly two months ago.

Waste not, want not, Zinada said to herself as she removed the welding visor completely, feeling the ache in her muscles with every movement. Her long, dark hair tumbled to her shoulders as she stretched and set the welder down on a box next to her. Though she was dressed in a tattered old pair of jeans and jacket, the frame of a powered exoskeleton was wrapped around her limbs allowing the young woman to work beyond her physical limits.

All around her, the town was a hive of activity. New buildings were being constructed using a mixture of old wreckage like her own project, or lumber hewn from the nearby forest. Thanks to the addition of power tools and a near inexhaustible supply of energy, building what was starting to look like a new city was moving very fast indeed. The sound of saws, hammers and general chatter was constant.

That's about it, she sighed, thoroughly done for the day. She turned to see a family of four, dressed in little more than rags and holding all of their meagre possessions in their arms. A man of indeterminate age with his wife, two teenage boys and a pair of cheerful-looking dogs were ready to move in.

Thank you, the man said as the rest of his family headed for the door.

It doesn't look like much, Zinada added for good measure, but it's shelter, and it'll catch rainwater so you can stay clean and hydrated. I've even made a few improvements.

The new owner hesitated before heading inside. Are you sure you don't need it?

Oh yes, I'll be fine, Zinada assured him with a wan smile. He gave her a final nod and headed inside to see what their new home was like.

Zinada coiled up the power cable and hefted the welding equipment over one shoulder, thankful for the powered frame that allowed her to toss such heavy objects around with barely a thought. She followed the thick cables snaking across the ground from the work site, winding through the newly formed streets as new buildings were constructed. They led to the grey hull of a space ship – her space ship – looming behind the nearest buildings. She had named it after the town; Kismet by name, Kismet by nature, she thought. Locating it buried beneath the town had been a stroke of fate.

Unfortunately, the town itself had paid a price. Getting the ship airborne resulted in half the buildings being levelled, leaving a huge pit right where the Starlight Hotel had once stood. They were forced to rebuild around the gaping wound in the earth, as they simply didn't have the time or resources to fill it. Zinada had a sudden vision of how the town centre would look with that hole filled with rain water – a town pond – but there was a lot of work still to do – a project for much later maybe.

New Kismet's population had increased tenfold with refugees arriving from towns in a region that had been pulled apart by the forces from Mineros, the largest city remaining on Paragon. With little or nothing to return to after those forces had been defeated, most had chosen to stay and rebuild their lives here. The place simply wasn't designed to house so many new arrivals, so plans for expansion had been rapidly drawn up.

With the hotel's solar and battery array wrecked, they would have had no chance of building anything more than simple shelters, especially with Paragon's vicious summer storms sweeping through. Fortunately, the ship's reactor – now fully repaired – was able to provide all the power the burgeoning community needed, and more. For the past few weeks, Kismet had served as a power supply for the town while construction took place.

Passing the giant pit, Zinada looked over newly ploughed fields, with dozens of people working the land. All sorts of crops had been planted and would one day provide an excellent harvest. Until then, they were living off whatever they could find, which included wild game and berries from the woods nearby, products from a small herd of goats and cattle the town kept, and old tinned and packaged foods recovered from the ruins of ancient cities.

Civilisation may have fallen over eight decades ago, but decent bits and pieces could still be found within the decaying remains of the old world, if one was clever enough. Zinada was one of the best scavengers around, and used her knowledge to assist raiding parties in locating valuable caches.

In addition to townsfolk working the fields, the familiar site of a rusty old robot pulling a plough through the soil made her smile. Designated GU-55 – or Guss to everyone in town – they were relying on this mechanical beast of burden to do most of the heavy lifting, but the machine had recently acquired some unwilling competition.

One huge individual pulled along another plough, strapped to it by a harness as he grumbled endlessly. The leader of a band of enforcers from Mineros during the recent attack, the Shikavan called Archie had been pressed into service to repay his debt to the town. Shark-like in appearance, he was heavily muscled and seemed to handle the work with relative ease, yet always found cause to complain.

Zinada leaned against the wooden fence around the field, next to the town's Sheriff, Chris Ortega, who stood quietly with one hand not far from the grip of his antique laser pistol. His dark eyes watched Archie cautiously, as if expecting trouble at any minute. He was a ruggedly handsome guy who used to work in security back in the city of Mineros, before 'retiring' here with his wife, Serafina.

She stood next to him with her arms crossed and a scowl on her fair features. Sera was in her thirties and sported long red hair which partially covered her face and the deep scars she’d received when she was ambushed by a Paragonian Salamander, a native creature of this planet that sported a vicious set of claws.

You know, the big Shikavan grunted as he worked, just 'cause I've got all these meaty muscles doesn't mean I want to use them all the time.

This guy giving you trouble? Zinada casually asked Ortega.

He's earning his keep, he answered gruffly. Don't really care how much he talks, so long as the work gets done.

I've actually got a few ideas for doing this shit job a lot more efficiently, if you'd care to listen, Archie offered, turning hopefully to glare at the Sheriff with pitch-black eyes.

It's not supposed to be easy, Sera pointed out. You're a prisoner here, and you'll do the work you’re assigned if you want any hope of earning your freedom. Now, do you want to stand in the sun talking, or do you want to finish this 'shit job' so you can go back indoors?

You make a compelling argument, Archie conceded. Do us a favour and splash me with some water, would you? I'm drying out.

Chris sighed and reached down for a hose, which he aimed at the waiting creature whose sleek blue-grey skin was more suited to being in water than baking in the hot sun.

Oh yes, that's it, spray me good, Archie moaned, prompting Chris to shut off the flow immediately. Archie managed a toothy smile before getting back to work.

I hate this almost as much as he does, Chris growled. He's a handful, and I need to keep a couple of my bigger deputies on him at all times.

He's doing a decent job of it though, Sera remarked. It'd take three regular men to lug that thing around. A call came in over Chris' communicator, a tiny device inserted into his ear that connected him into a local network. Zinada had found a bunch of them inside the ship and distributed them to important people in town.

I'll be there in five, Chris answered over the comms. Sorry ladies, some of the newcomers are still learning the laws around here. Not exactly the smoothest-running city I've ever lived in.

Go do your thing, Zinada replied, I'm beat anyway.

Speaking of work, I have to get back and finish off the new hotel, Sera added.  Someone went and knocked the old one over.

Sorry about that, Zinada replied with a faint grin, recalling the ship's dramatic emergence from the ground. You should have checked if anyone had parked a starship underneath before building there.

I guess so. Damn, you look exhausted Zin, Sera remarked after noticing how tired Zinada appeared. Long day?

Yeah, but it's done. I'll get a good night's sleep and then we'll start fixing the ship tomorrow.

Don't overdo it, Sera advised, giving her a reassuring smile before heading off.

It's a bit late for that, Zinada muttered under her breath, in more pain than she cared to admit. She had been living with a serious condition for years now, but had managed to keep the symptoms at bay with an old medication found in the ruins. It was difficult to come by however, and she'd recently pushed herself way too hard resulting in long-term pain and muscle weakness.

Making her way towards the ship, Zinada saw a number of small, identical houses had been built up ahead with wooden frames covered by expertly cut sheets of metal. It was all precisely measured, and fit together perfectly as its builder went about finishing up the final wall on one of the units.

A robot moving around on caterpillar tracks was the architect, a bulky machine measuring over two metres in height, with two glowing red lights on the front of its protruding chest that were its eyes. With a built-in arc welder and an assortment of hand-held tools, it had rapidly fabricated several new houses over the last few days, putting all the other workers to shame with a precise, clean, almost artful style.

While the buildings were looking positively brilliant, the robot itself was in a poor state of repair. What was left of its titanium outer casing was pock-marked and blackened with bullet holes and impacts from heavy weaponry, a legacy of the fighting they had been through recently. Along the side in faded text were the letters V1-RN, a serial number given at the time of manufacture. Zinada simply called him Virn.

Looking good, she called, as Virn used Zinada's own heavy nail gun to fix the plate into position. Two huge metal arms ended in three-fingered claws that were equally good at using tools, or smashing the faces of anyone stupid enough to attack him. A third arm over his shoulder was more of a mounting point for a weapon, which was currently empty.

Zinada, you are exhibiting signs of fatigue and pain, he rumbled, moving towards her. I recommend you visit the ship's doctor immediately.

I was heading that way anyhow, Zinada assured him, as Virn gently nudged her away from the wall to hasten her journey. Given how much strength the nuclear-powered automaton could bring to bear, it was a curiously tender gesture. Alright, I'm going, she sighed, knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer. When you're done with this, we need to talk about getting the ship repaired.

I have formulated a plan to overhaul all major systems and repair the hull, Virn announced, but it will require specialised equipment.

What sort? she inquired. Virn seemed to hesitate in his reply, and stopped moving for a few seconds as if experiencing some sort of internal trouble.

That information has been corrupted, Virn finally replied.

Already? Your memory is getting worse, Zinada remarked. Time had not been kind to the ancient machine, but Virn was a survivor, just like the rest of them.

It is possible this unit requires replacement parts, Virn conceded. I will put in a requisition order with the ship's quartermaster to that effect.

Uh, right, Zinada murmured, not sure who he was referring to. Virn was one of the ship's original crew, but eight decades of poor maintenance and combat had taken their toll. She knew of elderly people who suffered from memory issues, but it was odd to see similar effects in a machine.

If you’re done with the nail gun, I'll go and charge it up, she offered. Virn handed it over and she left him to finish up his work.

Zinada turned the corner and looked upon the magnificent view of her ship, with more than a measure of pride and admiration. Kismet was sleek, wide and flat, with two huge engine exhausts stacked vertically at the rear, jutting out from the otherwise dagger-shaped hull. Both engines were damaged from years buried underground, but Zinada hoped they could be repaired.

The ship rested upon three struts on each side, ending in chiselled pieces of hardware that were known as gravity plates, which allowed it to hover and fly around. To each side of the main engines was a docking bay for a vehicle, and the one on the right side was open, the end of its doorway touching the ground and serving as an entry into the ship.

At the base of the ramp was a stall that had been set up by the ship's Xarani doctor. The species was known for being tall and beautiful and this one was no exception. She went by the rather exotic name of Lyrik Ophalie Javaaris and Zinada noticed the woman was still dressed in the short, form-fitting red dress she had worn when they’d first met in a large base owned by a vicious gang in the ruins of an ancient city. They could all use a change of clothes, Zinada lamented as she picked at the tattered remains of her jacket. It hadn't been a priority for them.

Lyrik had set up a small clinic to assist arrivals to New Kismet with their medical needs, and there was a queue of about fifteen people waiting for service.

Mister Harding, Lyrik murmured as she served the middle-aged man at the head of the queue. Her voice harmonising as if two voices were speaking simultaneously. Weren't you here earlier today?

My arm still hurts, he grumbled in response. Thought you might take another look. Lyrik smiled knowingly and gazed at him with her pink eyes, before noticing Zinada heading past.

Sorry guys, the clinic is closed for the day, Lyrik announced to the queue. I'll take a look at your fake injuries tomorrow. Men and women in the queue grumbled as they turned away, while Lyrik gave them a little wave and a smile. Zin, wait, she called, hurrying to catch up.

Fake injuries? Zinada asked as Lyrik fell into step beside her.

What can I say? I have a reputation for excellent medical service, the Xarani replied with a wink. Don't worry, if anyone is actually injured or sick, I know what to do. They just like to flirt.

So, everyone's okay? Zinada asked as they boarded the ramp into the ship.

"There were some injuries after the little scuffle around here a while back, but they're mostly healed up now. The ship has a fully stocked dispensary so we have no shortage of common medicines. Some of them have expired of course, but I'll go through the stock soon and figure out what's still viable.

Oh, is this a hard-drinking town? Lyrik asked as they stopped at the top of the ramp. I've seen a few people exhibiting symptoms of liver problems, almost like they've been drinking heavily for years.

We've never had a lot of booze here, Zinada answered. A bit of moonshine for anyone bold enough to drink it, and some recovered bottles from the ruins. How bad are they?

"Serious enough that I could see it without needing to test them. We have medicine that can help with that, so I’ve prescribed a course for each of them. Right now, I'm more concerned about you. Still sore?"

Yeah, Zinada confessed, rubbing her legs. Sore and kind of weak. I don't know how I'd get by without this thing, she added, tapping her powered exosuit.

"I can guess what's going on, but I could really use a working infirmary," Lyrik suggested, raising her voice so it carried into the ship. Further into the docking bay was the wreckage of a huge robot called Scrapper. It didn't work anymore, but a large black bird was perched on top, using an assortment of tools to pick off small parts from the wreck.

Soon, he squawked in reply, somewhat annoyed.

What about access to the ship's archives? Zinada added.

Soon!

Alright, keep at it, Zinada conceded, knowing when to stop pushing. Far more intelligent than your average crow, or most people Zinada had ever met, Silas was a genius with electronics and a good friend. He also had some other gifts, a result of the genetic engineering that had brought his species into existence.

Hey, Zinada called, does Scrapper have any memory cards that Virn could use?

Silas reached into the top of the broken robot with his beak and pulled out a thin wafer of circuitry. Unfortunately, it had a nail protruding from the middle.

Oh, that would be one of mine, Zinada said guiltily.

I need the rest of these parts for the ship, Silas added. There is so much to repair.

When do you think she'll fly again? Lyrik asked.

We'll talk about that tomorrow, once I've finished making a list, Silas answered before focusing once more on his work. The sound of a vehicle arriving outside caught their attention.

A van with chunky tires and armour plating came to a stop at the base of the ramp. There were small boxes of equipment strapped to part of the roof. The door opened and a man stepped out, dressed in a dusty old uniform from a crew member of the Kismet, with a sword strapped to his back and a pistol on his belt. His hair was short-cropped, and his expression betrayed no emotion.

Hi, Echo, Lyrik called in sultry tones. Although appearing human, he was actually an android, dating back from before the fall of civilisation. He lowered the ramp at the back of the van and began unloading.

Successful op, he said, glancing up at Zinada. This is the last of the supplies from three towns along the river. It should be enough to finish the power grid for the town.

Great work, Zinada called, to which Echo nodded slightly as he worked.

Oh, he acknowledged your compliment; you’re in, Lyrik whispered, giving Zinada a nudge in the ribs.

Don’t even go there, Zinada muttered, too tired with Lyrik’s attempts to set her up with the android. Their relationship was... complex. A small red light started flashing on the wrist-mounted control panel of her exosuit, indicating it was on low power. My battery is just about dead, so I'm going to lie down.

I'll walk you in, Lyrik said, helping her forward. They headed through the docking bay and then a secure door which opened with the press of a button. After walking along a dull grey corridor for nearly a minute, they went up a short staircase to another door, and