Legacy Universe: Gentle Reminders (Book One in The Rosewell Sequence) Read online

  Legacy Universe: Gentle Reminders

  Book One in The Rosewell Sequence

  by

  Martin Perry

  Copyright © 2011 by Martin Perry

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Produced in the United Kingdom

  First Digital Release, 2011, v1.0

  Cover image by Tom Edwards - http://tomedwardsdmuga.blogspot.com/

  Edited by Thad Walsh - http://walshedits.blogspot.com

  Contact the Author!

  Interact with the author, discuss the book and sci-fi in general! There's even occasional flash fiction.

  E-mail the author at [email protected]

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  Visit us at www.legacy-universe.com for news and to join LURC, the Legacy Universe Reader Crew, for free stories and other great benefits.

  The Legacy Universe series features an ever-growing range of novels and short stories set inside one compelling science fiction universe. Click the links to go to the product pages and enjoy more adventure and intrigue!

  Novels

  The Rosewell Sequence

  The Rosewell Sequence is the flagship series of the Legacy Universe. The Jump Cannon is a mercenary ship that has recently suffered unimaginable tragedy at the hands of somebody they once called a friend. Now though, they find themselves pursued by the maniacal Free Man Nation; a xenophobic, power hungry paramilitary group. Join Maur, and the rest of the Jump Cannon crew, as he is mercilessly hunted across space for a secret that he does not know he keeps. Fantastic adventure, exciting battles and a twisting plot in a blend of space opera and blockbuster action.

  Book One - Gentle Reminders

  Available now!

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  Book Two - Lessons Learned

  Available now!

  Buy at Amazon UK - Buy at Amazon US

  Book Three - Pure Memorials

  Available now!

  Buy at Amazon UK - Buy at Amazon US

  The Apex Soldier Sequence

  The Apex Soldier Sequence takes Legacy Universe readers to Pura, years before Maur Rosewell and the Jump Cannon. In a matriarchal society ravaged by war and economic instability, a new scientific project hopes to resurrect the hopes of a nation. Genetically inferior men will be transformed into powerful soldiers, but if the Apex Soldier programme fails then all might be lost not just for the country of Referi, but for Kandal Gothran, one of its first participants.

  Book One - Apex Soldier

  Available now!

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  Short Stories

  Prize Fighting - Available now!

  Enter the world of Korakian Prize Fighting, where all-star combatant Jewlia Ghan Xi is forced into violent retreat from Earth after she becomes the enemy of match-fixing villains.

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  Wandering Man - Available now!

  On Colbray the puran/korakian corporate alliance of PurKore keeps the native people controlled and docile. However, when a colbrayan man seeks more than a full stomach and a warm bed he will discover PurKore's influence stretches well beyond the walls of their towering mining facilities.

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  Lost Voices - Available now!

  Aboard the Sola Mentis, an enormous factory ship ferrying goods through deepest known space, Capricia deals the the crushing loneliness of her isolated role aboard ship. When she starts to see haunting messages repeating throughout the Sola Mentis, Capricia is forced to try and engage with her crewmates. What will she do though when the crew themselves start talking in the same riddles?

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  The Rosewell Sequence - Omnibus Volume One is Also Available!

  Includes Books One to Three of The Rosewell Sequence, plus Prize Fighting, Wandering Man and Lost Voices, all for just $7.99

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  Legacy Universe: Gentle Reminders

  Book One in The Rosewell Sequence

  by

  Martin Perry

  Chapter One

  He could feel the blood rushing to his head, the heavy dizziness of it sitting at the front of his skull. It was a sensation that he wasn't familiar with any more. When he had been younger, a lot younger, he’d broken his arm from a fall after swinging upside down from a tree branch. The injury scared him away from doing it again, and try as he might he couldn’t remember the last time that he had been in this position. Held by his ankles, a rotting stench filled his nostrils to accompany the dizziness. Akin to meat that has been left in the sun for several weeks, it gave the overwhelming suggestion that he wasn’t anywhere near the fragrant orchard where he had snapped the bone. Instead, he could only muddle his brain toward the conclusion that he had been knocked out in the bar.

  With that thought he suffered an unfortunate addition to the dizziness; a hangover hitting him hard. He and the rest of the crew had only been in there for a few hours before he had consumed more illicit liquor than was required to confine him to quarters for the next two weeks. All things considered, he would not have gotten so drunk, so quickly, had he known that he was heading into this situation.

  With a groan he managed to twist his spine left and right, just about pulling his arms up to his face. The rough, splintered wooden cross that he was strapped to cut into his back. His feet were held high in the air but his arms were free. He could feel more than a few open wounds. While his current state didn’t reinforce the opinion he was in good physical shape, he’d have to try and pull himself up before launching an attack on the shackles around his ankles. The tough part of that would not be finding the tiny laser cutter built into his boot sole. The tough part would be drumming up the courage to actually open his eyes and face the reality of his situation. He wasn’t typically a cowardly sort of guy, in fact he considered himself quite brave and believed he had the evidence to back that up. Faced with the dawning reality of kidnap, the foundations of these ideas were being shaken.

  There was one vivid memory that supported his self belief, which stuck out not for its grandeur but more because of its pleasing outcome. He had taken out three korak bodyguards and a single human male in order to tell a visiting business woman exactly what he thought of her plans to buy his mothers land back on Earth, in Unified North America. While he couldn’t discern what value this land had to her he could certainly tell that the human woman had been spending too much time around the almost feral korakian muscle. After all, she found his display of strength quite attractive. He had enjoyed the fact the battered and bruised brutes had been forced to stand guard while he took advantage of his new-found popularity. The following cancellation of the purchase plans was really just icing on the cake. The dark, blue-tinged mercenaries had been left to sweat in the mid-day heat, leathery skin dotted with slow moving beads of perspiration, while he stood topless and bruised waving the woman on after they had spent the night together. It was suitable revenge for the broken rib they had inflicted on him.

  These thoughts were, however, rather irrelevant given his predicament. Rubbing his crusty eyes, as if trying to wake up from a bad dream, he overcame the fears bubbling in his stomach. He didn’t have to adjust to the light much; there wasn’t an awful lot of it. Craning his neck, he looked upwards to see the single source being
a thick glass skylight.

  The many species of hoof, claw and foot that he watched tread overhead offered some reassurance - whoever his kidnappers were they hadn’t moved him out of the relative safety of the urban area. Of course, the fact that the feet were above him pointed unanimously toward being underground. Being underground meant that wherever he was, his escape would most likely be troublesome. Assuming he managed to escape.

  Looking around at the blackened stone walls that surrounded him he had located a few potential sources of the stench. In the far corner, about a meter away, there were a pile of perhaps three or four bodies. It was difficult to tell exactly. He was on a multi-species planet so counting limbs wasn’t going to be a great way to judge. He thought he saw three torsos, but a ragged cauterised lump could either be the fourth or any number of non-human extremities. He resigned himself to the fact that he might never be sure. The brown liquid streaming down the walls and toward the holes in the ground was certainly something he wanted to remain ignorant about too. At best, it was engine run-off from the old class of junker crafts that littered this part of space. At worst, it was raw sewage leaking in from nearby ducts.

  Bloody stainless steel implements, vague in their purpose beyond their intent to cause pain, were strewn across the floor, adding a red tint to the brown liquid running past them. Hopefully they had been used to greater effect on the gang in the corner than on his numb body. Regardless, it was time to move away from them quickly. With a whimpering grunt he pulled himself up with a jerk, grabbing the leather strap that held his left leg in place. His spare right hand found the seam hidden in the rubber sole of his filthy brown boots. He tried to ignore the beheaded, moulding skull that adorned the top of the rack as he went to work on the straps that held him against it. With a tug he pulled the seam free, a small rubber handle now in his hand, the business end of a small laser cutter sticking out of the top.

  He hoped that its use the night before hadn’t completely drained the small plutonium battery. It had been put to work slicing up limes for the tequila he was drinking out of the pale pinkish belly button of a puran girl spread out on the table in front of him. The first few tests weren’t promising; shoving the button in as hard as he could resulted in a light red flicker and not much else. He smacked the bottom of the handle against the frame of the wooden torture apparatus to which he was suspended. Then, blowing into the shaft of the laser, getting rid of any pesky bits of grit and dust, he pointed at the leather once again. A further click. No luck. The frustration was mounting. Staring into the skinny shaft, he started rapidly clicking the the button that was supposed to begin his ascension to the world above. Of all the people to waste his escape on, the puran didn’t seem as though she merited it. More clicking. She had been a nice girl and she probably felt a bit embarrassed about the whole thing now. He definitely did. It wasn’t like him but then he had been extremely drunk. Thinking about it he could only hope none of his team would remember. More clicking. Click. Click. Click. Then, a blast of searing pain.

  Trying to stifle the sharp, girlish scream that had filled his lungs, he felt the warm blood from the self-inflicted cut that now circled the outside of his right eye socket. The eyebrow hair would most likely grow back, but even at this point he could tell a scar was going to form. Given the diminutive size of the cutter there would be no significant damage, but a cosmetic disfiguration was serious enough. No matter, at least the cutter was working now. He worked through the pain, and the laser made quick work of the straps. In his haste he had left himself dangling from his right foot. As he made the final cut he tried to anticipate the feeling of the sludge covered brick floor that his head was about to encounter.

  With the ultimate snip, he was free, experiencing a short descent before crashing into the ground. Groaning, he reached around to feel the back of his skull for damage; a decision that he instantly regretted as he ran his fingers through the brown sludge that was quickly clumping his hair together. Slowly, taking about as much time as he had opening his eyes, he brought his hand up to his face. With a sharp intake of breath he was forced to reel backwards; face contorted, nose offended, mind shocked. He was now, without a shadow of a doubt, lying in a pool of intergalactic shit.

  There was a silver lining, he thought, surprised by his own spirit. The fact that it was sewage pointed towards him being in the very near vicinity of a sewer and, while not his favourite holiday destination, they did ordinarily feature multiple exit and entry points. Sure, every exit and entry point would be littered with unpleasant matter, but at least they led to the hot sticky air of Pura and away from the hot shitty air of the sewer. Shifting his weight from his neck to his back, legs flopping to the ground now properly free from the suspension apparatus, he quickly checked himself for injuries. His shredded combat trousers and now rather off-white shirt, itself cut into tiny pieces, made this whole process much easier but no more pleasant. There were several large cuts on his legs. They looked as though they had been inflicted by an electrified whip. On top of that there was an open gouge, green around the edges, just below either of his bottom ribs. While he couldn’t quite fathom the intent of the injuries, he was glad the the perpetrators who had inflicted them had since decided to break for lunch. Or perhaps dinner. He wasn't sure what time of day it was.

  None of the wounds were debilitating in themselves, but in combination they were certainly going to make a trip through inter-species waste even more tortuous. Clambering up to his feet, desperately trying to shake away some of the confusion that was clouding his mind, he looked down on the bloody implements and tried to pick one. They were truly bizarre, a mix of corkscrews, hooks and bladed coils that would definitely harm but seemed to be better purposed towards the torture of stationary candidates. He bent over, partly to ensure that he still could, but mostly to have one more shuffle through the options. Something new caught his eye while he rummaged around. In the muddle of body parts in the corner, he noticed a primitive gunpowder based firearm strapped to one of the legs.

  Limping over, he pulled the weapon free. It had a long, wide cylindrical barrel, running into the bullet housing. It loaded from the top, a fresh clip was confirmed after a quick check, and the wooden handle was delicately detailed with carvings that seemed too delicate for human hands to have carried out. Its shiny metallic surface was adorned with what could only be described as a meat cleaver, the blade of a common kitchen instrument welded under the barrel. Entirely odd, entirely unfamiliar, but it would have to do for now.

  He had never seen this side of Pura before; there wasn’t a strong market for sewage tourism on any planet. The pile of bodies and weapons wasn’t the only debris in the room. Waste cabling, rubble, a headless children’s doll and expired electrical equipment long ago stripped of any valuable materials. All of it discarded by the population of the sometimes intimidating city above.

  He tried to see what else was worth scavenging. It was important to locate human bodies if any of the armour was going to fit. A short pang of guilt fired through his mind when he uncovered a man of similar height and build to him. He didn’t have much choice though, pulling free the slick black chest piece and the full-length arm and leg braces that had failed to save his fellow human. Clamping on each part he felt the wounds on his legs fill up with WoundGel, the promised pain relief offering only mild numbing. At least it would fight off some of the infections he was bound to encounter in his forthcoming trip through raw filth. Still, he was thankful that the braces had dispensers built in, although his survivor’s guilt soon passed when he realised that the man in the corner hadn’t splashed out on a similar feature for his chest piece. His ribs would have to wait.

  Armed and armoured he made his first motions towards the arch that broke up the far wall. He had been left alone for a remarkable length of time, assuming that he hadn’t woken up immediately from a torture session that he could no longer remember. Retrograde amnesia wouldn’t be reason enough for his kidnappers not to tie him up again. He had t
o get moving. Once in the archway he decided to head right after looking either way down the dark, bricked hallway that greeted him. Starting slowly, he worked up to a jog, choosing not to look into the other alcoves that no doubt housed similar horrors as to the one he had just left.

  He got to the end of this hallway and was met with the same dull choices. Choosing to go right again, and then once again, he started to become frustrated by the maze, an anger building up thanks to the blend of pain and defeat. He moved faster and faster down the corridors. They seemed to go on and on, with more and more alcoves promising horror after horror if he dared look in. Fear was growing, any cockiness he might have had left fading as the gravity of his situation failed to ease while he rushed around. His mind became even more clouded, the confusion of his apparent memory loss mixing with terror to completely block out the world around him. With panic absolutely set in, he broke into a limping sprint. His legs throbbed.

  With a loud roar of complete shock, his leg muscles were stretched beyond what the WoundGel could manage. It tore away from his skin as he glared down, toes leaning over a sheer drop, seeing a raging torrent of extremely filthy water. In his despair he hadn’t heard the crashing and gurgling of the river and had almost gone head-first into it. Arms flailing backwards he steadied, shifting his weight onto his heels before staggering backwards. He hunched down, palms spreading over the cold armour covering his knees while he tried to catch his breath.

  The feeling of the criss-cross pattern printed into the mould used to make the coverings seemed odd as he scratched his fingernails across it in the long seconds after the shock. Whenever he went to a showroom to upgrade his armour, he always stuck with the same smooth protective material. The salesman would call it Ramlar, and spout some nonsense about how the smoothness made it more prone to cracking and how the more expensive materials wouldn't. All he knew was that it made it far easier to slide across the floor of the maintenance bay when you wanted to make adjustments to the underside of a scout all-terrain-vehicle. Plus, it was cheaper.