Trapped: Chaos Core Book 1 Read online

  Books by Randolph Lalonde

  THE CHAOS CORE SERIES

  Trapped

  Cool Pursuit

  THE SPINWARD FRINGE SERIES

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 0: Origins

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 1 and 2: Resurrection and Awakening

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 3: Triton

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 4: Frontline

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 5: Fracture

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 6: Fragments

  The Expendable Few: A Spinward Fringe Novel

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 7: Framework

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 8: Renegades

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 9: Warpath

  Spinward Fringe Broadcast 10: Freeground

  Brightwill

  Dark Arts

  For more information please visit:

  www.RandolphLalonde.com

  TRAPPED

  CHAOS CORE BOOK 1

  Randolph Lalonde

  Copyright © 2016 by Randolph Lalonde

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher, Randolph Lalonde.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Thank you for supporting the author by purchasing this book. Every honest reader counts.

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-9881750-4-1

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  01

  02

  03

  04

  05

  06

  07

  08

  09

  Year 998.4 United Core Authority Calendar

  The beginning of the Basic Era

  Humanity is slowly recovering from a galactic holocaust. After a virus that turned artificial intelligences against them ravaged the population and reduced centuries old systems of law and order to mere memory, the once civilized core worlds have become mostly lawless territory. Mostly.

  The United Core Authority discovered a tool, a new virus they began using to prevent artificial intelligences from communicating with other computer systems digitally, reducing their effectiveness and turning the tide of the war. Along with a campaign to neutralize advanced technology that is not under control, they have managed to quiet the open war that threatened to end humanity in a growing group of solar systems.

  New wars begin, some driven by artificial intelligences who have become trapped in single metal chassis, others conducted by humans with grand ideas and too much hardware. Any spacer will tell you that the conflict map changes daily, and while that provides opportunity for some, it is also a constant source of danger.

  Slavery is the fastest growing industry now that mankind has lost trust in intelligent machines. People of all ages run the risk of being captured and sold if they are caught alone on the streets by certain gangs, governments or corporations. The drive to reclaim technology that was once used to create enhanced and custom humans is on. There are examples of this golden age of human production from before the Holocaust, when artificial intelligences turned on their masters. They were made from entirely synthetic reproductive materials, customized to have restricted life spans and unrestricted potential. They are called dolls. Some of them were able to escape during the Holocaust, others remain in service to their masters, but they are all highly sought after since the laboratories and other facilities responsible for their creation are surrounded by armies led by artificial intelligences that will do anything to prevent humanity from getting their hands on the tools for progress in the Geist System.

  Through this, the elements of humanity that were already used to hiding – criminals and the ultra-wealthy – have thrived in their own ways. The difference between the two have become only skin deep, and they control the spaces where humanity tries to thrive. Both sides are ruthless in their quest to be in power when order is restored, while the United Core Authority operates as a military dictatorship on the few worlds they can afford to police regularly.

  Near one of those systems, a spacer named Aspen Dunewell enjoys her leave from the Cool Angel, a small armed freighter that does whatever work the Captain can find for her crew. Aspen is completely unaware that she’s about to be drawn into the middle of humanity’s next struggle in the Core Worlds.

  01

  Dancing. Aspen Dunewell loved everything about dancing. The aggressive punch and pound of the music set her bouncing and swaying with her eyes closed. They were the Pip Divers, a Joy Metal band with two females and one male singer, all of whom had mastered ancient instruments using strings and picks. She loved the distortion, the utter aggression of it, and the powerful beat provided by a woman who played old style drums behind everyone else. Aspen would go see her later, at least to tell her that she made her feel like dancing for the first time in a long time.

  The crowd around her was a crew she’d come to know, they protected their own, leaving her free to ‘look good and groove.’ It was a term her Lieutenant, Sun, used when they were getting ready for leave that afternoon. The lower and middle ranks had become like her family, a good thing, since space on the Cool Angel was tight.

  The cream coloured dress Aspen borrowed from Sun flowed and swayed loosely while keeping her covered. The top half was a single loose circle of cloth that drooped from her neck, leaving her back bare. The bottom half was a short skirt that teased at showing what was underneath but would not creep up or down thanks to programmable surface cloth, so she could comfortably sway, grind and bump as much as she wanted. She hadn’t worn anything that felt so good in a year.

  Her hip bumped against someone, and she half-turned her head to see Boro, a crewman she’d been talking to and flirting with for two months. They’d had what she liked to call ‘a date of opportunity’ more than once, talking late into the evening in the mess hall after she’d finished helping Cookie clean up. He was a little thick in the middle, allergic to body shaping meds – not that he could have afforded them – and she was sure he liked her too much for some easy going fun, but she fancied him anyway, so he earned a wink instead of a sneer on most days. He smiled and danced behind her as she ground to the beat a little. He kissed her on the neck, put a hand on her bare waist. Boro, a fabricator by trade who could make any complicated part with the right materials, had a surprisingly warm, nice touch as his fingers splayed out under her top, and he teased her neck with light kisses.

  Sun, the raven-haired Lieutenant she provided support for – that was Aspen’s only job – was dancing in front of her. She was in a dress of a similar style, only her slimmer figure was tightly wrapped instead of loosely covered, and the fabric was so black it seemed to drink the light in. The smile across her glossy black lips and approving nod told Aspen that she’d have some personal time that night. Aspen smiled back as Boro kissed her lightly under her earlobe, sending tingles through her. She’d never seen Boro pair up with anyone in the year she’d served aboard the Cool Angel, he most likely had a lot of energy to spend. She slid her hand atop his and leaned her head back; “Take it slow,” she said over the music. Boro’s head came up so his lips were next to hers. “Sorry,” he said.

  “We have all night,” she said and kissed him, tasting the strong fermented cocktail he’d had, a very obvious mood enhancer she recognized right away called Valentia. Aspen ground against him several times, she wanted him to feel encouraged. With what she loaded onto the station credit chit she had tucked into her skirt, she could
afford a room later, if she still liked the way he felt by then.

  The beat slowed, and a more sensual sound came rippling from the emitters. He gently turned her around and Aspen leaned against him. Boro was shorter than she thought, and she was wearing high heels – a monstrous invention, but they gave her extra height – so she was almost at eye level with him. He was smiling softly. “You look mad beautiful tonight,” he said.

  A glance at his shirt – a long thing that had animated black and blue flames crawling up the length of it – and thought it was a little silly, but it made her smile, and it felt nice, not cheap or rough. His hands were warm and large against her bare back, that, and his smile were a great start as far as she was concerned. She brushed his cheek gently with the backs of her fingers before locking her hands behind his neck. “This is nice,” she told him before leaning in a little.

  He took his chance and kissed her, his lips parting and she followed his lead, happy that he was taking the initiative. Drew, her last on-and-off-again couldn’t follow a signal if it was accompanied by flood lights and power horns. Boro was kissing her soundly and she was happy with the direction her night was taking.

  The music stopped suddenly and the spinning lights became bright floods. “This is a United Core Authority raid! Stay where you are and the innocent will be released!”

  They stepped away from each other and Aspen saw an emergency exit over Boro’s shoulder. “There! We have to get back to the ship!” The whole dance floor rushed for it, Aspen, Boro and a few other crewmen were within three metres of the nearest exit and four UCA soldiers burst through, rifles at the ready.

  With a look over her shoulder Aspen saw that Sun was right behind her. “Rush them!” she called out to the crewmembers around them. To her surprise, Boro took the lead, a pulse band over his knuckles that amplified his devastating uppercut, sending the lead UCA Officer back through the doors with a concave gold chest plate. He bullied through the space left open with two other crewmembers.

  A UCA Officer tried to block Aspen, and she grabbed the seam under the front of his helmet then dragged him down, rolling back and bashing his faceplate against the dance floor. His rifle went off under her legs, a near miss that left a sear mark across the backs of her thighs. The piercing sound of his pulse weapon discharging also increased the crowd’s panic, and he was pressed underfoot as Aspen flipped back up onto her feet and ran in step with Sun through the door.

  “Cool Angel, this is Lieutenant Dodin, we’re coming back, the station is being raided,” Sun said over the communicator tattooed on her wrist.

  “Genan here, what’s going on?” came the response from their navigator, his head appearing in a tiny hologram above her wrist. “Wait, one sec.” The face disappeared.

  “Bloody moron,” Sun said. “We’ll be stuck in clearance for days if we don’t get back to the Cool Angel.”

  With a touch of her finger to the communication unit imprinted on her wrist, Aspen’s high heels converted to thick treaded flats that held her feet firmly, the same command altered her Lieutenant’s shoes, she wobbled for a moment. “Warn me next time?” Sun said.

  Flashes of light through the transparent aluminium windows drew Aspen’s momentary attention, and she did her best to hold her panic down as beams flashed between several swooping United Core Authority fighters and a smooth-hulled hundred-metre-long ship. The lights started going out on the rear half of the vessel, and the ion thrusters along its side flared then flickered out. “Who are they after?” Aspen said, a substitution for asking the real question on her mind; I hope they’re not after me.

  They came to a crossing and took the left fork towards the nearby docking port where they’d find the Cool Angel. “Where did the rest of the crew go?” Sun asked. “They should be on their way back.”

  “This is the last time I wear anything without built in support,” Aspen said, holding her hands over her chest. The dress made her look great, but she may as well have been running naked.

  The noise from the dance club goers faded to nothing as they ran down one of the lesser concourses. Bored shopkeepers, most of them selling salvage they had dug up from a nearby world, watched the pair run past. They turned a corner down an old avenue that smelled like old Formula D Food Cubes, the kind Aspen had grown used to after a year in space, and urine. They slowed to a normal walk at the sight of a group of four soldiers. They were in the thick green armour of the UCA but didn’t seem to notice that they were wearing club wear, so Sun and Aspen passed without incident.

  “One more corner and we’ll be on the right docking ring,” Sun said. “Almost home.”

  Aspen got a sinking feeling, used her communication screen to look over her shoulder and saw that the four soldiers were slowly following them. “We’re screwed,” she said as they turned the corner. “They’re here for me.”

  Sun looked at her quizzically. “You’re an Academy girl, why would they be after you?” The hallway ahead filled with soldiers, all their rifles pointed.

  “This is awkward, I never went to an Academy,” Aspen said, looking for any other way out of the hall. “Especially not the UCA Academy.”

  “We have orders to take you into custody, Aspen Dunewell, your master is paying a lot of pips for your retrieval,” the lead soldier said using a scratchy amplifier.

  “You’re an escaped slave?” Sun asked. “You could have warned me.”

  Then she spotted it, a handle that would activate an emergency lifepod. It was the only option available to her. “I really meant to tell you a better way, sorry, bye,” she whispered to Sun the instant before leaping for the hatch. A bright white stun bolt missed her as she scrambled and got her hand on the old yellow handle. It creaked and turned a little, then she felt the excruciating shock of a stun bolt.

  02

  Aspen had numb feet, hands that felt like they were asleep, she was laying on a chilly metal table. She tried to lift her arms from where they were beside her head but found metal restraints stopped them. The rustling of a baggy one-size-fits-all suit that she’d only seen on prisoners and labour slaves chafed. She opened her eyes and took in a processing room, where stasis pods, gurneys with restraints and small cages filled the room.

  “Scan complete, Commander Rahca,” A fellow in a green and white uniform said as he watched a wall of readouts and icons. “Nothing in her that could poison us, blow us up, and she’s in relatively good health. I deactivated her dermal computer, healed some burns from a rifle shot and took care of a small tumour on her liver. I’m a little surprised, I thought these constructs were supposed to be genetically superior.”

  “Not this type,” a woman with white hair and far too colourful makeup in a black and green uniform said. The dashes across her chest marked her as a Commander. “Welcome back to the waking world, Aspen Number Seven, you’re a rare jewel.” She placed a hand on Aspen’s stomach lightly. “Since the servant bots and pleasure models went crazy, we’ve had orders to round up any runaway dolls we can find. Raises a lot of money for the UCA, money that protects the citizens you’re supposed to serve.”

  “I’m a real person, asshole, slavery is illegal in this system.”

  “You may be human,” the Commander said with a crooked smile, “but you were designed, grown, then sold by a company as a product. A product that was catalogued and claimed. Have always belonged to someone, and that’s who we serve. Besides, the Kensan government has fallen here, the UCA control this territory.”

  “They still have ships, officers, their laws matter,” Aspen protested as she tried to look for an escape.

  “Well, you can say whatever you like, Aspen Number Seven, it doesn’t change where you’re going,” the Commander said, holding her hand out. A small black chit was handed to her, a dermal code reader.

  Aspen tried to turn away from the Commander. “Tighten the leg restraints so I can get a direct reading.”

  “Sure,” the short technician said, making an adjustment to a slider at the bottom of
the table while leering up at her. She was forced to lay flat on the table and the Commander placed the cold, small reader on her chest. After three beeps it made a triumphant chirp, and the Commander held up the chip. A holographic image of Aspen was projected, showing her as she appeared full grown. Her height, one point five metres, her weight was fifty-six kilograms, her hair colour was branded as Delightfully Light Blonde, with the Cute n’ Curvy patented facial and body appearance package. The Health and Longevity rating for her model was a four point five out of ten possible marks. She knew all this information already, but seeing herself boiled down to such bare, marketable facts was still chilling.

  “We were ruled as free people in nineteen Core World systems, you can’t do this. You protect at least a few of those places,” Aspen protested.

  “You know what I’d give for the beauty you have?” the Commander said quietly. “I know you were grown, then educated using imprinting technology we can barely touch now, but God, look at her skin, her youthfulness. They locked you at twenty-one, didn’t they?”

  “That doesn’t mean they made me to last,” Aspen said, wishing she hadn’t. It was the first time she admitted to being anything but a normal human for a long time. “You know the law; you can’t deliver me anywhere near Loso.”

  “Oh, but your owner moved to her estate in Herche, in the Kerr system, and we have to follow the law there, where dolls are perfectly legal. You’ll be in an obedience anklet before the day is over. Maybe some of that reward can go towards a rollback for me, do you want to know how much you’re worth?”

  “Fuck you!” Aspen spat at her face, sending spittle across the Commander’s eye and into her hair.