ISBN 9781615083077
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Copyright ©2010-2011 Patricia Green
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CHAPTER 1: 27 JUNE, 2145; FRIDAY
“According to the agenda, the only thing we need to discuss is transportation logistics, but we need to talk about the awful situation going on in New York first. Comments?” No one spoke. “Oh, come on!" Mikhail frowned, pushing an errant lock of his long, dark hair out of his eyes. “No one noticed that a few million people were wiped-out in the wink of an eye today?”
Dave glared at Mikhail from his armchair. “Of course we noticed.” His brown hair bounced as he swiveled his head, looking at his friends’ faces. All were glum, their eyes shadowed with dark circles. “But what are we supposed to say? To do? Maybe this is the time for quiet panic.”
Becka propped herself on one elbow as she lounged on the floor. “Hell, Mike. I think we’re doing the only thing we can do: trying to save ourselves. That’s why we formed Earth Ark Omega, to build our shelter, Articulus, just in case.” Her blue eyes showed concern, though her tone was even.
“I was terrified when I heard.” Sonata’s soft voice shook slightly. “I didn’t think we’d ever really need our haven. This whole war never seemed quite so close before. Even when Kelly and Rick were killed in that Long Beach bombing last year, it didn’t seem quite real. That was only two hundred people—which is bad enough—not a million.” Sonata shuddered. Her beau, Charles Cowl, stroked her curly red hair and the slender back beneath. His weariness was etched on his face as lines around his mouth. Mikhail knew things had been swamped at the clinic where Cowl worked in his capacity as a physician.
Not far from Charles and Sonata, the group’s indoles singularis, Larry Thomas, spoke up. “You know, since Articulus is finally finished—only five years after we formed, I might add—I think we’d do ourselves a favor if we did discuss transportation logistics again. The shelter won’t do any one of you any good if you can’t get there when you need to.” A greasy lock of stringy light brown hair fell across his forehead and he blew air up toward it from his lips in an unsuccessful attempt to move it out of his sharp brown eyes.
Heads nodded their agreement. Mikhail looked back at his computer tablet. “I just think it’s important to talk about the attack. Maybe we need to move to Articulus right away rather than waiting. The capitol of the entire Western Alliance was decimated in that nuclear strike today. We all know this must be the first of many nuclear attacks; it won’t stop with New York. It’s scary, and suppressing our fear won’t help us think better.” He paused, waiting for comments, but none came. Mikhail sighed heavily, accepting the silence. “All right. It’s time for us to tie up all the loose ends. We need to solve this transportation problem or the only one who’s going to make it during a nuclear disaster closer to home here in the west is Larry.”
"Sol help humanity if that happens!" Dave spouted, stretching thickly muscled arms overhead. The dismal mood lightened somewhat as people chuckled.
Being president of Earth Ark Omega didn’t preclude a sense of humor, and Mikhail smiled along with his EAO officers. “Since Articulus is located under Larry’s house in the country and the time for evacuation to the shelter might be upon us, we need to figure out how to get ourselves and our last minute supplies there during a crisis. The floor is open for discussion and suggestions.”
* * * *
The seven young men and women sat quietly in the living room. They’d gone over this problem many times before. Mikhail’s cobalt gaze touched each of them in turn. The future of the planet might depend upon us, and Sol help us—what a crew, Mikhail thought cynically.
Larry was formulating some solution to a computer problem as his fingers flew over the surface of his mini-tablet and he muttered sub-vocally to the artificial intelligence in the device. Theresa’s frizzy brown head nodded as her eyes strained to stay open. Her plump face looked plumper in the firelight somehow. Colin Wallis, their new engineer, seemed to be giving the problem serious thought. Becka, lying on her back near the hearth, was staring at the ceiling, absently twirling a lock of bright blonde hair around a forefinger. Becka was the only person he knew who was allowed to call him Mike. She had stubbornly refused to stop using the nickname, and after a while, Mikhail decided to let it go so long as it didn’t catch on. Not far from Becka, Sonata and Charles were cuddling. His gaze fell upon Charles first. Charles’s eyes were closed as he leaned his head back against the overstuffed chair. His hands absently massaged Sonata’s slender shoulders and upper arms.
For the fifteen years he’d known him, Mikhail had always felt inadequate around Charles. Charles was more clever with words, he was wiry where Mikhail was bulky with muscle, and he was better with women. Sonata was an excellent example of Charles’s abilities with the female population. She was gifted in her field (if her academic standing was indicative), absolutely stunning, and really fun to be around. Mikhail had known Sonata for only the last six months, and that was generally in Charles’s sharp-eyed presence. There was only one exceptional occasion.
* * * *
Shortly after her induction into EAO, Mikhail had run into Sonata at a party. He’d been sitting in a corner of the room trying to convince some sweet young thing that what she’d heard about the size of his personal parts from his former girlfriend shouldn’t be so frightening. “At the least, it’s survivable, and at best ecstatic” he coaxed. He trailed off when he saw Sonata. His previously lovely companion paled into near-non-existence.
Sonata was dressed in a metallic gold top and shorties (a fashion trend Mikhail hoped would never go out of style). His dad had once called the tiny shorts “hot pants," which Mikhail thought was a funny way to describe the little bottoms. Stylized tattoo marks of three phases of the moon created a triangle based at the top of Sonata’s low-riding shorties to apex below her navel, proclaiming her status as a Daughter of the Moon. Her red hair was pulled back from her beautiful face to cascade down her back in curls to tickle her rounded bottom. He’d assumed that she’d only just come in from the cool outdoors as her nipples tipped her breasts like marbles and were practically calling his name.
Removing his long-fingered, wide-palmed hand from its place caressing the back of his attractive companion’s slender neck, he excused himself from the slim cocoa-skinned girl. She had seemed almost convinced, but he took a chance, unfolding his almost two meter frame to go over to Sonata.
The stresses of the ongoing war made people restless and eager for some diversion from the horrors. Sex was a natural outlet for most people, and relatively safe thanks to scientific advances made during the previous century. Unless actively committed to another person, anyone was available should they desire it so. Cyclical as these thing were, Mikhail’s understanding of history suggested that this was another era of “free love.”
"Hi, Sonata. Where’s Charles?” Mikhail asked, noting the smooth skin of her face, and imagining the weight of her breasts in his large hands. The room seemed a little warm.
"Charles who?” she replied, batting her eyelashes in mock-ignorance as she looked up at him. Mikhail just smiled. Thank you Sol, he thought. Sonata smiled back, making Mikhail’s breath catch silently.
"Pardon me if I seem nosy, but have you stopped seeing Charles?” Please let the answer be yes, Sol, please.
"Not exactly. Charles just had other plans for tonight, and I wasn’t interested in a threesome.” Her sparkling green eyes told him to drop the subject, and he did so—gratefully.
"Oh. Um. So tell me more about you. I only hear what Charles tells, and he seems to want to keep you a mystery. For example, I’ve seen you at L.A. University. What are you studying?”
"Psychology. Clinical psychology really, not so much research psych. I’m working on my Master’s," she answered, taking a big cookie from a plate being passed around.
"Oh, this is really too big," she exclaimed, and breaking it in half, she offered it to Mikhail. “Would you like some?”
"Sure. Thanks. Clinical psychology, hm? That’s my field. I’ve been teaching undergrad psych classes at L.A.U. for three years now. I’m being given upper-division and Masters’ studies classes next term. Perhaps you’ll be in one of the classes I’ll be teaching.” Mikhail’s cookie went unnoticed in his hand, though his gaze was drawn to Sonata’s soft lips as she ate her half.
"I don’t know. I don’t think I’m a very good psychologist actually. I’ve been thinking about changing majors. Mind if we sit somewhere?” Mikhail motioned to the sofa, and they sat thigh-to-thigh with several other partygoers. Sonata crossed her long legs, and Mikhail began to feel a familiar urgency in his groin. "Tell me why you don’t think you’re cut out for psych.” He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile and not a leer.
She rubbed her forehead for a moment, a tiny frown forming and disappearing within the same heartbeat of time.
"Does it seem warm in here to you? I feel a little peculiar," and she giggled. He shook his head.
"Well, um. I really shouldn’t tell you this, you’re Charles’s friend, and you’re a male too...” She paused, leaning conspiratorially against him.
"Glad you noticed.” Her low-cut golden top slipped very slightly, giving him a glimpse of a violet-pink areola, and he felt the throbbing of his imminent erection beginning. She went on as though he hadn’t said anything.
"But has Charles spoken to you of our intimate relationship?”
The change of subject was unexpected. He paused, carefully choosing his words as was his habit. Actually, Charles had been quite uncharacteristically closed-mouthed about his newest conquest. Something interesting was going on here but, while he was curious, an insistent throb in his pants seemed much more urgent.
"No, of course not. Are you sure you want to tell me this?” he replied somewhat feebly. This conversation wasn’t going as he’d intended. He would have preferred moving to a more pressing subject, like sharing essence in one of the rooms upstairs.
Sonata giggled again, and squinted first her left and then her right eye. “You look a little fuzzy.” The hostess passed with more cookies. “Candy, is there something in those? I feel pretty strange.”
"Yes! Didn’t you know? They’re laced with Cerepause.” The yellow-haired woman grinned at Mikhail and winked. “She does look a little silly. Look after her won’t you, Mikhail? I think Sonata’s underage for stims and ‘gens.’” Candy walked away, leaving Mikhail with a dubious responsibility for the young woman beside him.
Sonata peered at him as though trying to focus.
"Cerepause? What’s that? Oh, and she’s right, I am only twenty,” she said nonchalantly, while placing her hand high on his thigh with apparent innocence. More giggling followed. Mikhail had to uncross his legs because his pants were definitely too tight for this situation.
He shook his head, and took the remainder of the toxic cookie from her. What a pain, he thought, his hopes dashed. Underage for legal drugs and too out of it to screw! Why me, Sol? Why me? “Cerepause, imp, is a hallucinogen. I’m sure you know what that means. Haven’t you ever had it before?” Mikhail asked. She shook her head in the negative.
"That’s why everything is so funny! Well, I’ll try to be more serious," she said, breaking into gales of laughter. Other guests, more used to the effects of the various legal drugs, looked at her oddly.
"Let’s go upstairs and talk where it’s more, um, quiet," he tried, hoping that she’d fall asleep or something, and he could go find that sweet young thing again. He took her hand and stood. She stood automatically.
Quietly, yet with round agitated eyes, she put her free hand on his shoulder, and said, “Oh no! I can’t! What if Charles should find out? I mean I’ve told him over and over that I’m not ready to share essences with him. And I just met you—really met you, that is. Oh no!” She shook her head vigorously, quite serious now, in an intoxicated way. “Hey," she stopped, flinging her hair; distracted by a thought. “Don’t you feel odd too?”
Pushing his already smooth hair back with his hand in his gesture of irritation, Mikhail didn’t know what to think. He just couldn’t believe that Charles, the great seducer of women, hadn’t shared with this gorgeous female a hundred times during the six or seven months they’d dated. “No, Sonata, I don’t feel odd. Look at me! I’m at least twenty centimeters taller than you, and I outweigh you by forty or fifty kilos. Remember introductory physiology? I’d probably have to consume half a dozen cookies to even begin to get light. Anyway, I wasn’t hungry.” She began to nod again, and only stopped when he gently gripped her fragile chin with his hand. “And, you’ve misunderstood me. I just want to go where it’s more quiet. I’m not out to share with you.” He smiled. Not today at least. When he spilled his seed he liked his partner to feel every nerve cell and remember it.
Sonata looked like a woman-child; her green eyes sleepy and sexy, all innocence and allure at once. The warmth in his groin increased. Down big fella, he thought sardonically. “Come with me now.” She nodded and followed dutifully.
Want to find out what happens between Mikhail and Sonata? This is only a brief excerpt from Chapter 1. Read more by purchasing the book at Renaissance E Books or at Amazon.