Finality Read online

  Finality:

  The Complete First Series

  by Amy Cross

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright Amy Cross, All Rights Reserved

  Published by Dark Season Books

  First published: June 2014

  With thanks to Linda Hare

  http://amycrossbooks.wordpress.com

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. If you enjoy it and wish to share it with others, please consider buying them their own copy. Feedback is always welcome. The author reserves all rights in respect of this work.

  ALSO BY AMY CROSS

  Horror

  Asylum

  American Coven

  The Night Girl

  Devil's Briar

  Ward Z

  The Devil's Photographer

  The House We Haunted

  Darper Danver series 1

  Fantasy / Horror

  Dark Season series 1, 2 & 3

  The Hollow Church (Abby Hart book 1)

  Vampire Asylum (Abby Hart book 2)

  Lupine Howl series 1, 2, 3 & 4

  The Ghosts of London

  Grave Girl

  Ghosts

  The Library (The Library book 1)

  Journey to the Library (The Library book 2)

  The Vampire's Grave

  Thriller

  Ophelia

  The Girl Who Never Came Back

  The Dead and the Dying (Joanna Mason book 1)

  The House of Broken Backs (Joanna Mason book 2)

  Other People's Bodies

  Dystopia / Science Fiction

  The Shades

  Finality series 1

  Mass Extinction Event series 1 & 2

  Erotica

  Broken Blue

  Broken White

  Table of Contents

  Part One

  Contact

  Part Two

  The Empty Echo

  Part Three

  Dark Orbit

  Part Four

  The Passenger

  Part Five

  Shapes

  Part Six

  Secrets

  Part Seven

  Incoming

  Part Eight

  Space

  Finality:

  The Complete First Series

  Brief Timeline

  2110 - Global Supreme Command (later shortened to Supreme Command) established as global government.

  2120 - First human colony established on Mars.

  2143 - Occulus disaster results in 60% of Earth's surface becoming irradiated.

  2144 - Supreme Command votes to move global government to new base on Mars.

  2201 - First Terran president voted into office.

  2511 - First human base established outside Earth's solar system.

  2780 - Earth formally declassified as a habitable planet, reserved for military use.

  2897 - S.E.A.S. formed to lead search for new resources and signs of alien life.

  2971 - Caleb de Montemelo, fifth Terran president, assumes office.

  2980 - Amanda Cole born on Mars.

  2999 - Rebel forces strike against Supreme Command bases on Mars and four other planets.

  3000 - Supreme Command declares all rebels to be terrorists and institutes kill policy.

  Part One

  Contact

  Prologue

  Ten years ago

  "Bring her in!" the guard shouts.

  From just outside the court chamber, there's the sound of a brief scuffle. A female voice yells out obscenities, but no-one in the chamber even blinks; they were all told to expect precisely this kind of behavior, and they're far too respectable and refined to allow their emotions to show. Still, from the very back of the crowd, there's a hushed murmur. People have been waiting for this moment for many years.

  "You think this fooling anyone?" the girl shouts as she's dragged through the door. Her wrists are bound together, and there are scratches all over her face. Turning to look up at the audience in the balcony above the jury, she scans the crowd for any sign of familiar faces. "This is a show trial!" she shouts after a moment. "It's just a piece of theater, designed to make everyone ignore the truth! The verdict's already been decided!"

  Three large, bulky guards pulls her across to the raised dais in the middle of the chamber, before pushing her forward with such force that she trips on the step and lands hard against the floor. Letting out a gasp of pain, she rolls onto her back and stares up at the high dome that covers the room. For a moment, the fight seems to leave her eyes, as if she knows that it's futile to keep struggling. Still, the guards remain close, having been warned repeatedly that this is one prisoner who must never be underestimated.

  "Are you determined to turn this into a farce?" asks a calm, measured voice from the judges' bench.

  Rolling onto her side, the girl stares at the three figures who make up the panel. She narrows her eyes a little, imagining what it would be like to break free and run at them. Even with armed guards lining the room, she figures she could get to at least one of the judges, and she'd have his head off his shoulders by the time anyone could restrain her. The anger starts to build in her soul, filling her with a familiar sense of fury, but as she tugs at her wrist restraints, she realizes that there's nothing she can do.

  Yet.

  "Evidence for the prosecution has already been entered into the database," the middle judge continues. "I believe the algorithms have been run and are now ready to receive any supplementary data that might be offered to counter the charges. Has the defendant appointed a representative to speak for her?"

  "Go fuck yourselves," the girl whispers.

  "The defendant must speak up if -"

  "Go fuck yourselves," she says again, more firmly this time. "If you're still not clear, I'd be happy to draw you a diagram!" She starts getting to her feet, but two guards grab her shoulders and force her back down.

  "The court would prefer a more civil approach," the third just says calmly.

  There's a murmur from the jury, while in the gallery a packed crowd reacts with a little more glee. Hawkers are making their way along the aisles, offering refreshments, while cameras have been lined up at the edge of the balcony in order to capture every second of the trial. The authorities claimed that they didn't want this event to become a kind of spectacle, yet news channels have been trailing the trial for weeks and everyone on Mars knows full well that the news channels only do what they're told.

  "You're no better than animals!" the girl shouts at the crowd. "You're the idiots who enable this madness! They could never do this if they didn't have the masses under control!"

  "In the absence of a representative," the middle judge continues calmly, "the defendant must indicate whether or not she wishes to address the court in a civilized manner. If she provides no answer, or if she speaks in a tone that is unbecoming to the dignity of this place, it will be assumed that she is turning down the opportunity to either atone for her actions or to defend herself."

  "I don't recognize the authority of this court," she sneers, turning to the judges.

  "Others do," the first judge replies. "The opinion of one person cannot be allowed to overturn an entire civilization."

  Turning to look up at the crowd again, the girl desperately searches for a familiar face. She told her allies to keep away, but she knows they wouldn't be able to resist sending someone. Just as she's about to give up, she spots a hooded figure moving along the back aisle and disappearing quickly into the corridor. She didn't see a face, but she's certain it must have been a friend.

  "By order of Caleb de Montemelo himself," the first judge continues, "this court is granted full powers to sit in judgment over those who are deemed to be a threat to Supreme Command, S.E.A.S. or any other
aspect of a strong and decent society. This authority has been confirmed by a vote in the lower and upper houses of parliament, and no challenges were lodged within the statutory ninety-day timeframe."

  "You're just a bunch of crooks," she mutters darkly.

  "I'm sorry," the middle judge replies, "I didn't quite -"

  "I don't recognize the authority of this court!" she shouts, slowly getting to her feet. She's hurt, and she knows that a few broken ribs are just the more obvious injuries she sustained during her capture, but she's determined that if these are to be her last moments, she's at least going to be standing. "A politicized judiciary can never be legitimate," she continues. "Your orders were probably delivered days ago, tucked into thick envelopes along with wads of cash. Even a blind fool -"

  "Insults are not acceptable within the chamber," the first judge says, interrupting her. "We are interested only in reasoned, logical arguments and intelligently-constructed pleas for mercy. If you have either of those -"

  "Go to hell," she says firmly.

  The first judge turns to his colleagues, and they confer for a moment in a whisper.

  "You've already been told what to do with me," the girl continues. "This hearing is nothing more than a farce. I don't want to sound big-headed, but I'm pretty sure your bosses have been planning this day for a long time. Tell me something. Did you have a little party when you heard I was coming in? Is it V-Day for everyone at Supreme Command? I'm sure your loyalty will be rewarded when the S.E.A.S. overlords find out that you followed their instructions so willingly."

  "In the absence of representations by the defendant," the third judge says, "a verdict has been reached."

  "Go on," the girl replies with a bitter smile. "Surprise me."

  "On the count of organized resistance," the first judge continues, "the defendant is found guilty as charged. On the count of encouraging sedition, the defendant is also found guilty. On the charge of mass murder -"

  "It's a war!" the girl shouts. "It's not resistance! It's a war against tyranny!"

  "The defendant is also found guilty," the first judge says, ignoring her outburst. "Fifty-seven ancillary charges have also been brought by Supreme Command, and the verdict in fifty-six of them is guilty. On the charge of knowingly disseminating hateful material to minors, however, the court rules that there is insufficient evidence, and the defendant is therefore found not guilty. We hope that this demonstrates the fact that we have considered each and every charge thoroughly, and that -"

  "So what's the sentence?" the girl asks. "Let me guess. Does it begin with the letter D?"

  "It begins with the letter R," the middle judge replies. "Rehabilitation."

  "You'll have to lobotomize me," the girl says darkly.

  "There will be no resort to primitive means," the third judge continues. "Standard rehabilitation techniques have been assessed and deemed adequate. The program will begin immediately and current expectations are that it will take approximately fifteen weeks, although given the difficult nature of the defendant, a short delay is also anticipated. Let the court note that psychiatric technicians are to be given as long as they deem necessary in order to complete the process. There should be no rush, lest the end result might be compromised in some way."

  "Let the court also note," adds the first judge, "that the defendant is being treated with the utmost level of care. Her crimes as a rebel against Supreme Command would ordinarily necessitate the death penalty, but her age and the honor of her family have been taken into account. Supreme Command tolerates debate, not terrorism."

  "You're the terrorists," the girl spits back at them.

  "Take her away," the middle judge says calmly. "It's clear that she has no intention of behaving in a civilized manner, so we shall move on to the next case. Let us hope that her period of rehabilitation might have a profound effect on her attitude to authority."

  "I'll be back!" the girl shouts as the guards grab her arms and start dragging her toward the holding area. "I'll be back in this room one day, and I'll make you pay for this!" She tries to break loose, but it's no use and the guards simply lift her up. In the gallery above, the crowd is murmuring louder than ever, and the cameras continue to relay footage back to billions of eyes in the various Martian bases. Finally, once the girl has been taken through to the holding area, the door slides shut.

  "Silence!" the third judge calls out.

  Ignoring the judge, the crowd continues to debate the case. A small scuffle breaks out at one end of the balcony, although it's swiftly dealt with as a group of guards swarms onto the offenders.

  "Silence!" the third judge shouts again. "We will not have this commotion in the chamber! If the audience cannot compose itself, we will have no option but to clear the room and ban observers! That goes for members of the media, too. This is a courtroom, not a circus!"

  Slowly, the crowd begins to settle, and the judges take a few minutes to compose themselves. Nervous guards remain in place at all the doors, waiting to see if the promised bomb threats are realized. So far, despite all the concern leading up to the girl's appearance, it appears that all the threats have been empty.

  "Moving on," the middle judge says after a moment, consulting a set of notes. "We cannot allow the furore surrounding one defendant to jeopardize the good work carried out by this court. Amanda Cole's sentence has been passed down, and that is the end of the matter. I must now command the judges to bring in the next defendant."

  Ten years later

  Chapter One

  Sutter

  She's here. Bang on time, too.

  As I stand on the observation deck and watch the spherical pod slowly coming closer, I can't help but marvel at this feat of engineering. Four weeks ago, this very same pod was launched from the Saturn shipyards and sent on a precisely-calculated trajectory. Since then, it has passed through the vast void of space, traveling hundreds of light years on its lonely journey. Now, thanks to the gravity of several planets along the way, and with a little help from a pair of nucleon booster engines that are now guiding it along the final approach, the pod has arrived here at the station. Not a minute early, not a minute late.

  Perfect, clinical precision on a galactic scale.

  With a couple of minutes still to go until the automated docking procedure is complete, I turn and head away from the observation deck, back down into the main control room. The station's detection system has already recognized the pod and has begun to initiate the necessary systems, so the airlock should be good to go. Given the importance of this moment, it's hard to relax, but the truth is that there's really nothing much for me to do. I just have to wait while the machines do their work, and after being completely alone out here for two months, a few more minutes won't kill me. There were some tough moments, but I managed to survive the crippling solitude.

  I watch the screens as the pod moves ever closer. The airlock is now primed and waiting for the magnetic relay, and it's just a matter of letting the pod reach its locking point. According to the data displays, there's just a couple of meters to go now, and I can't help but stare at the counter as it relentlessly ticks down. Finally, the indicator reaches zero and, at the same moment, there's a distant thudding sound as the spherical pod settles perfectly into the concave docking port. The automated systems are already synching the airlock, running thousands of calculations every second.

  It's time.

  I take a deep breath. Damn it, why am I so nervous? I need to get a grip, or I'm liable to screw this whole thing up.

  "You need to stay calm when she arrives," Deborah told me a few months ago. "It's going to feel strange, and there might be a hint of the uncanny valley about things, but you've got to act like nothing strange is happening. At first, anyway..."

  She was right then and she's right now.

  Hurrying over to the far side of the control room, I climb up the ladder that leads to the main gallery, and then I slip through one of the side doors and make my way along the circular corridor that
run directly beneath the station's outer skin. Glancing out the window, I see the dark, ominous surface of Io-5, the planet that this station orbits with relentless, monotonous precision. One of the smaller planets in the Io system, the place is as dead as everywhere else in the galaxy, but its surplus of methane-hydrozone means it's a valuable mining outpost. I've been here long enough to have stopped being over-awed by the majesty of the view, but somehow things feel different today.

  Hell, things are different. Now that she's arrived, at least.

  "Incoming object identified," says the station's computer, speaking with an artificial female voice. "Class-B transportation pod, one occupant, launched from Saturn base-station number five. Time in transit declared as four weeks, one day, eight hours, fifty-nine minutes and one second. Internal atmosphere check reads positive. No problems reported by pod's on-board system."

  "Of course not," I mutter. "That thing was checked a thousand times."

  "You'll end up talking to yourself," Deborah said once, with a smile.

  "Bullshit," I told her.

  "You'll talk to the computer, then," she warned me. "It'll be your best friend after I'm gone."

  "Not a chance."

  Now look at me.

  As I reach the airlock, the system is almost complete. A set of red warning lights flash on the edge of the large metallic ring that holds the door shut, and I wait impatiently for the synch program to finish running. Some of these programs are completely redundant, and I know damn well that the door could be opened right now without any ill effects. Still, there are plenty of overrides in place, and the last thing I want is to have to file a report regarding the premature opening of a minor airlock seal. Better to do things by the book for now, and avoid attracting attention.