For your reading pleasure, here is the first chapter of Bad Faith. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
“I hate it when he does that.”
“I know.” Lilia Strong glanced sideways at her twin brother as they joined a taxi queue forming beneath a portico outside Jamal Spaceport. “You’d think today, of all days—”
“—he’d be a little more forthcoming with information, but no.” Kevin slung his travel bag over one shoulder and jammed his free hand into his pocket, “We ask a couple of simple questions about becoming Guardians and Lon clams up like we’re speaking Nebullian and he’s lost his translator.” He scowled out at the sheets of rain lashing Glo’Stea’s capital city.
“Relax.” Lilia bumped him with her shoulder. “We’re going to be fine.”
Kevin shot her an exasperated look. He was a head taller, but they shared the same lean build, slightly angular features, dark brown hair, and violet eyes. “I know that—I just wanted a heads up. Is that too much to ask?”
“Sometimes our dear older brothers forget we’re not little kids anymore.”
“Yeah, well, Lon should know better.” Kevin sent a glare over his shoulder in the direction of the docking berth where they had left their older brother and their ship, an old Honeybee-class freighter. “Keeping us in the dark is not going to stop us from joining the NCDC.”
“No, it’s not.” Lilia glanced up at him again. “I think he’s in denial.”
Kevin lifted one shoulder in an irritated shrug. “All I can say is that he had better not make our next supply run without me. The Star—”
“—was not meant to run with a one-man crew. I know, Kev. You’ve said that five times in the last twenty minutes.”
“I’m serious!” Kevin raked unhappy fingers through his dark hair. “He had that look in his eyes—the one that used to get us in trouble with Grandmother when we were younger.”
Lilia pinned him with a firm stare. “Lon is not going to risk the Star. He knows replacing her will be a pain.”
“Let’s hope so,” Kevin muttered darkly. The Crimson Star was his most cherished possession. He loved flying more than Lon did and Lon had to be coaxed out of the cockpit for mundane things like eating and bathing.
The line moved up a few meters and Lilia shook her head. The Crimson Star had belonged to their grandfather; the three of them chipped in to buy it from him two years before when they left their homeworld Sta’Gloa to come to Glo’Stea. Grandfather wasn’t particularly happy we were leaving, but he did give us a fantastic deal.
She glanced out at the rain falling in gusty swathes, watching it form shallow lakes on the pavement. Dawn was not far; the leaden sky above grew a lighter shade of gray with every passing moment. Jamal stood in the center of Glo’Stea’s largest landmass, just south of the equator in Sector 8. And at the moment, the city was in the middle of the rainy season.
Unlike most star systems scattered across the galaxy, the Sta’Gloan system boasted three habitable worlds out of the seven orbiting her sun. Of these, Glo’Stea had been a thriving tourist attraction famous for the multitude of beautiful, varied islands dotting her china blue seas. As capital city, Jamal had been the world’s crown jewel.
But that was before the Tarynians burst on the scene with lasers blazing. Lilia looked around the spaceport, taking in the all-but-deserted commercial sector where shuttles once unloaded passengers from orbiting luxury cruise liners. Before the blockade that cut us off from the rest of the galaxy.
For twenty years now, the iridescent energy shields covering Sta’Gloa, Lanx, two mining worlds, a mining station in an asteroid belt around a gas giant, and three-quarters of Glo’Stea’s surface silently testified that the Coalition was under siege.
The Sta’Gloan Coalition and Taryn, a mid-sized system in the next sector with only one habitable world, had enjoyed good trade relations until Taryn gathered a handful of like-minded systems to itself and launched the Galactic Union. When the Coalition refused to join, they sent a contingent of G.U. starships to compel them by force. It was the main reason people in the Coalition referred to G.U. soldiers as Tarynians, regardless of from where in the galaxy they actually came.
Nowhere was the blockade felt more keenly than Glo’Stea. She had far less land mass than Sta’Gloa or Lanx; protecting her vast oceans required changes to the shield system the Coalition had developed in response to the G.U.’s growing strength. Two Sectors had not been able to finish in time.
As a result, the G.U. landed soldiers on the unshielded portion of the planet and enforced martial law on the islands trapped there. In the years since, a Resistance had sprung up, dedicated to reclaiming Glo’Stea’s occupied islands.
Closing her eyes, Lilia enjoyed the kiss of cool, damp wind on her face. Forgot how much I missed that. Thanks to a special secondary shield, wind was a rare commodity on the island medcenter along the fringe of free Glo’Stea where she volunteered as a receptionist.
After a moment, Kevin stirred. “We haven’t done this in a while.”
“No, we haven’t.” Lilia glanced at him again, happy to see his irritation had died down. “Kyman’s had an influx of wounded Resistance fighters the last few weeks and you and Lon—”
“—have been flying all over the place.” He finally cracked a grin. “This’ll be good then. Just like old times.”
“You make it sound like we’re old.”
They reached the head of the line and claimed the next taxi. Lilia climbed in first and swung her long braid out of the way to avoid sitting on it.
Kevin followed, switching from their native Sta’Gloan to Glo’Stean. “Good morning. Callum’s, please.”
Their driver, a short, middle-aged man wearing a straw hat, nodded and pulled out into the street. “Sure thing. Name’s Zane.”
Rain drummed against the taxi as it floated through the outer edge of Jamal’s Market District. Lilia leaned back against the black seat and stared out the water-streaked window at the blurry buildings flashing past. Won’t be long now.
Kevin stared out the other window.
A few moments later, Zane brought the taxi to a halt in front of a small diner that had seen better days. “Here we are.” He offered them a smile over his shoulder. “Don’t let looks fool ya—Callum’s has the best coffee this side of Jamal.”
Lilia returned his smile with one of her own. “Thanks.” No need to mention we aren’t actually setting foot in the place. Clutching her travel bag, she waited for Kevin to exit the vehicle before climbing out behind him. Then she ducked beneath the relative shelter of the awning stretched over the sidewalk along the strip of buildings while Kevin paid their fare.
Oblivious to the torrential downpour, he leaned through the taxi’s now-open passenger side window and extracted a goldcard from his wallet. He swiped over the scanner in the dashboard meter and then handed Zane a few silver coins. “Thanks.”
The coins vanished into a pocket. Zane touched the brim of his hat. “Stay dry.”
“We’ll try.”
As the taxi disappeared down the street, Kevin joined Lilia beneath the awning. “That was more expensive than I thought it’d be.” He cast a rueful glance at his wallet before sliding it back into his pocket. “If it wasn’t pouring, we could have walked.”
“It’s Jamal.” Lilia spread her hands. Higher prices were to be expected. She glanced sideways at him. “Look, if it’s still raining when we’re done, I’ll pay for the trip back.”
“Deal.”
One of the few things the G.U. blockade had not damaged was the Coalition’s banking system. Work in precious metal mines on Lanx and almost all of the mining worlds continued unabated; everything was priced in grains of gold. Most people used goldcards to transfer money via computer, but gold, silver, and smaller numbers of platinum coins traded hands at dizzying speeds every day.
Sniffing the damp air, Kevin cast a wistful glance at the magenta ‘open’ sign brightening the cantina’s front window behind them. “Wish we had time to stop for a bite. Whatever they’re cooking smells great.”
Lilia stared at him with raised eyebrows. “You can’t possibly be hungry again—we had breakfast an hour ago.” A menagerie of butterflies had suddenly taken up residence in her own stomach; she doubted she’d be able to look at food for the next week.
“I’m a growing boy.”
Laughing, she turned away from the diner. “Sure you are.”
Beside Callum’s stood a shabby, two-story building with an air of modest, if slightly rundown, respectability. The twins moved up the sidewalk toward it, grateful for the awning over their heads. They passed only a few pedestrians; the edges of the Market District did not see much business at this hour.
“Well, this is it.” Kevin shook his dark bangs out of his eyes and surveyed the building’s worn metal door and narrow, tinted windows with dubious interest. “Doesn’t look like much, does it?”
Lilia brushed raindrops off her amethyst sweater with a few quick flicks of her fingers. “Depends on whether or not you expected something out of a film.”
“I don’t know what I expected. It figures they’d choose a location like this—nobody would ever think to look here.”
“I think that’s the point.”
It was Kevin’s turn to roll his eyes. “You don’t say…” A lopsided smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, but it faded as he continued to stare at the door. “Are you sure about this?”
She glanced at him in surprise. “Having second thoughts?”
“No, not exactly…” He scuffed the toe of one heavy boot along the damp concrete walkway, shaking his head. “It’s just—what are we doing? Who in their right minds gets a bunch of nanites injected into themselves?”
The butterflies in Lilia’s stomach started up a nosedive competition, but she ignored them. “We do. Lon did. Mike and Derek did.”
“Yeah,” Kevin nodded slowly, “which may just mean our family is crazy.” He fixed her with an intense stare. “Have you thought about where all those nanites are going to go?”
“Yes. Haven’t quite figured out where yet, but I know they’ll be in our bodies somewhere.”
He paled and then scowled. “You’re not helping, Lil.”
“I’m not?”
“Nope.”
She snapped her fingers in dismay. “And I was trying so hard.”
“You’re trying, alright,” Kevin muttered, but he straightened to his full height. “Remind me to thump Lon later for being such a non-helpful pain in the neck.”
“Will do.” Lilia eyed her brother, suppressing a faint smile. He always gets mouthier when he’s on edge. She clapped him on the back. “It’s only eighteen months, Kev. If we don’t like being Guardians—”
“—we can leave. I know.” He sucked in a lungful of air and exhaled in a rush. “Let’s do this.”
She gave him a sharp nod and they approached the door together.
It swung open with a stronger hydraulic hiss than either of them expected. Exchanging darting glances, they stepped inside. The door shut behind them with another hiss, cutting off the sound of the pounding rain.
When their eyes adjusted to the brighter light, Kevin let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Now this is more like it.”
Lilia had to agree.
They stood in an airy reception area lit by muted glowpanels in the ceiling. Framed holos of cascading waterfalls and vibrant plants hung at regular intervals around the slate gray walls. Clusters of white chairs were grouped across the smooth azure floor.
At the other end of the room facing them, two archways flanked a curved reception desk of dark, burnished wood. Embossed on the front of the desk was a triangular cluster of three jeweled orbs set in silver—emerald, topaz, and sapphire. The reception area’s lone occupant, a woman wearing a deep green blouse that set off her golden brown skin, sat behind this desk engrossed in her computer screen. Holographic letters across the front of her desk spelled out her name.
Bansuri Dutta looked up as Lilia and Kevin crossed over to her and blinked, slightly taken aback by the two pairs of identical violet eyes zeroed in on her face. “Good morning, how may I help you?” She was about ten years older than they were, with curly black hair and limpid brown eyes.
By this time, Kevin had recovered sufficiently to offer her a charming smile. “Hi, we have an eight AM appointment with Dr. Dover.”
“Names?”
“Kevin and Lilia Strong.”
Bansuri tapped the panel before her and nodded. “I’ll need to see some identification.”
Lilia fished in her bag for her identcard and passed it over the desk.
The dark-haired woman took one look at it and raised her eyebrows. “You’re Sta’Gloan.”
“Yes…” Lilia resisted the urge to glance sideways at Kevin. “Will that be a problem?”
“Oh, no.” Bansuri waved a manicured hand. “I was merely surprised. We don’t usually get many off-world Guardian candidates.” Returning Lilia’s identcard, she glanced at Kevin’s and nodded in approval. “What are you doing here? You’re a little young.”
“Helping.” Kevin tucked his identcard away. Sensing that would not be enough to satisfy the older woman’s curiosity, he added, “Our parents were on the Luminous.”
“Ah.” Bansuri injected a wealth of emotion in that one word: understanding, sympathy. “My mother lost her entire family. They were en route to a wedding on Sta’Gloa.” She shook her head. “She couldn’t go because she was due to birth my youngest brother.”
Lilia bit her lip. “It was our parents’ anniversary. They—”
“—were on their way home,” Kevin finished.
Even after twenty years, people still remembered the first ship lost to the G.U. StarFleet. At the time, traffic flowed in regular streams between the Coalition’s worlds despite rumors of the Galactic Union’s growing strength. The Luminous had been one of the direct flights between Sta’Gloa and Glo’Stea.
Of course, had anyone on board known their return trip would coincide with the G.U. StarFleet’s grand arrival in-system, none of them would have ever left Sta’Gloa. Everything would have been different.
But they hadn’t known. No one could have predicted such a tragedy.
When the Triumvirate gave the order to activate all planetary shields, the Luminous was stranded in space, trapped between an unyielding energy shield and merciless enemy ships expecting an easy victory. Garrett and Angela Strong were sacrificed along with everyone else aboard the Luminous to satisfy the G.U.’s fury at being outmaneuvered.
Lilia and Kevin, along with their three older brothers, were only a few of the children who became orphans that day. They had been barely a year old, too young to have any solid memories of their parents. Sometimes Lilia thought that was better; other times she wished she could relate to the stories their brothers told.
“I understand.” Bansuri offered them a grave nod. “At any rate, welcome to the Glo’Stean branch office of the Nanotech Civilian Defense Corps.”
Reaching down into a drawer beside her, she extracted two stacks of papers and slid them across her desk. “Final paperwork.” She tapped one stack with a perfect nail. “I mean that literally. The NCDC prefers hard copy files for privacy and security reasons.”
Lilia nodded to herself. That’s good. Despite the galaxy’s many technological advances over the centuries, they had yet to create a hacker-proof computer system network. Not to mention the fact that no one can alter contracts without it being very obvious. Taking a deep breath to quell the last of her butterflies, she picked up the papers bearing her name. Here we go.
Bansuri waited patiently while Lilia and Kevin read through both copies of their contracts and signed in the appropriate places. When they finished, she notarized the papers and set them aside. Then she produced a clear box from a deep drawer to her left.
The twins glanced from the box to each other. Lilia arched a questioning eyebrow; Kevin shrugged.
“One of the ground rules for incoming Guardian candidates is the elimination of potential distractions.” Bansuri opened the box. “Please put your datapads, comlinks, and any other electronics in here—I promise they’ll be perfectly safe.” She smiled, revealing pearly white teeth. “The galaxy won’t come to an end in the next three days.”
Lilia cringed. You’ve got to be kidding. Three days with no connection to the outside galaxy?
Kevin took the news in stride. “You’d be surprised,” he joked, rifling through his pockets and his travel bag. “Withdrawal is not a pretty sight.” He dropped his electronics into the box and then raised an eyebrow at his sister.
Holding back a reluctant sigh, Lilia removed her comlink from her pocket, her datapad from her travel bag, and set them down inside the box. You’ll live, she told herself.
Bansuri added their copies of the NCDC contract and keyed the lock on the box’s front panel to their thumbprints. “This will be waiting for you when you leave.” She pointed off to the side. “Dr. Dover is in the Lab Wing. Head through the archway on your left and take the accelevator down to Sublevel 1. The Lab Wing is the door on the right.”
The twins both bowed politely. “Thank you.” Then they moved around the reception desk and passed through the archway Bansuri indicated.
They found themselves in a dim, round room with wood-paneled walls. A heavy stillness pervaded the air; the sort of ringing, pressing silence that almost seemed to take on life of its own. Their footsteps slowed, and then ceased altogether.
Peering around for an explanation of the room’s strange, solemn atmosphere, Lilia noticed a plaque of interlocking gold rectangles stretched across one curved wall. She started toward it, but something else caught her eye. She stopped short.
Emblazoned in the center of the azure floor was a large gold crest—the same insignia carved on the front of Bansuri’s desk. A cluster of three jeweled orbs. “Kevin, look at this.”
“I see it.” He nodded to the floor. “Nice, huh? Must be the Guardian insignia.” He leaned in for a closer look and something blossomed out of the center of the shield.
Caught off-guard, the twins both gasped and jerked back a step.
A full-sized hologram of a man wearing a charcoal armored bodysuit complete with visor, facemask, and helmet began to revolve slowly above the crest.
For a few seconds, Lilia and Kevin stared at the hologram with wide eyes. Then they broke into soft, relieved laughter.
Unclenching his fists, Kevin brought a hand up to clasp the back of his neck. “I don’t know about you, but that’s taken five years off my life, at least.”
“Yeah.” Lilia let out a shaky breath. “Somebody’s idea of a joke.” She reached out a hand to touch the hologram, but her fingertips stopped a few centimeters shy of its glowing surface. “Do you think this is what our armor will look like?”
“Probably.” Kevin locked his hands behind his back and they studied the bodysuit in silence.
The high-collared upper half of the charcoal armor was smooth and featureless, except for what they now realized was the Guardian insignia inscribed solely in sapphire blue on the right shoulder. Sleeves flowed seamlessly into flexible protective gloves of the same material. A sturdy attached belt and form-fitting pants tucked into matte charcoal knee-high boots completed the ensemble.
A moment later, the hologram rippled and morphed into a smaller, female version. Lilia took in every detail and nodded to herself. I like the overall design. It has a sort of streamlined, timeless elegance.
“Impressive, don’t you think?”
The voice sliced through the stillness, cool and crisp. Startled, the twins looked around. A tall, angular woman in a white lab coat watched them from the exit on the opposite side of the circular room. Her short gray hair formed a metallic cap on her head, enhancing the frosty look of her skin.
“I never get tired of it,” she continued briskly, striding toward them. She held out her hand. “You must be the Strong twins. I’m Dr. Jemina Dover.”