Xenogenesis Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  About Xenogenesis

  Praise for The Endurance series

  The Endurance Timeline

  Xenogenesis

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Next in The Endurance series by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  About the Author

  Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Copyright Information

  About Xenogenesis

  Rex has never been worthy of Belen’s love. Can he change that?

  Life aboard the Endurance is disintegrating—unemployment, inflation, crime and destitution, all ignored by the super-rich, including Rex Julyan, the wildly successful and most hedonistic man on the ship. When Rex meets an old Artificial Intelligence called Emma, she tells him there may be a way to save the ship, but does he care enough to try? For the woman he once loved, Belen Tirrell, is now the partner of the ship’s Captain, Antonio Tyler. She left Rex to be with him, long ago. Nothing would win her back now…would it?

  Xenogenesis is the fourth book in the science fiction romance series readers are calling gripping, superb and fantastic. Written by award-winning SFR author Tracy Cooper-Posey, it is set aboard the closed-system marathon-class vessel Endurance, a generation ship a thousand years from its destination. If you like the smart, romantic SF of authors like Linnea Sinclair and Anna Hackett, you will love the Endurance series.

  Dive into this thought-provoking new romance series today!

  __

  This book is part of The Endurance SFR series:

  Book 0.5 5,001

  Book 1.0 Greyson’s Doom

  Book 2.0 Yesterday’s Legacy

  Book 3.0 Promissory Note

  Book 4.0 Xenogenesis

  …and more to come!

  A Science Fiction Romance Novel.

  Praise for

  The Endurance series

  I am so glad that this author finally got around to writing SF cause she's great at it.

  To all SF fans out there, I highly recommend this be on your reading list. To the author, PLEASE keep giving us these amazing stories.

  I cannot wait to read more in this series and learn more about the people that live on the Endurance as it travels through space.

  Wow, what a fantastic read!!!

  Another superb series.

  I highly recommend this new wonderful series.

  It is not just a journey through space, but through the beautiful landscape of human emotions with all its wonderful spectrums.

  The Endurance Timeline

  Ship Years 210 – 219

  The events of Greyson’s Doom

  Ship Year 313

  The events of Yesterday’s Legacy

  Ship Year 402

  The events of Promissory Note

  Ship Years 499-501

  The events of Xenogenesis

  Ship Year 735

  The events of 5,001

  xenogenesis

  [zen-uh-jen-uh-sis, zee-nuh-]

  Word Origin: noun, Biology.

  1.

  the supposed generation of offspring completely and permanently different from the parent.

  __

  “It’s as though the baby they thought they were raising grew up into something that wasn’t theirs at all…”

  Keton Hobson

  Chapter One

  The short night had ended when Pasi found Rex at the side of the pool and told him in a voice that wouldn’t reach any of the guests that there was a call for him and the caller was refusing to be put through to a virtual screen.

  Rex handed Pasi the book he had been reading. “Where is the call now?” The demand for security and privacy wasn’t unusual. Some of the people he dealt with preferred to keep their business affairs off the Forum and out of general gossip.

  “In your office, sir.”

  “Do you know who it is?” Everyone who was paranoid enough to insist upon privacy and who might have reason to call Rex was already here, somewhere in his house.

  Pasi shook his head, his dark eyes troubled.

  Rex patted his arm. “It’s fine, Pasi.” He looked around the courtyard garden. The growing daylight was revealing the aftermath of a night of indulgence. There were people asleep or passed out on the loungers around the pool and two more drifting on floating loungers in the water, their feet wet, their eyes closed. One—Rex thought his name was Evram—was snoring musically, his glass of whatever he had been drinking still clutched in his hand.

  From somewhere inside the house, Rex could hear music. Now he was consciously listening to it, he had the sensation it wasn’t the first time the track had played in the last hour or so. Someone had put their own playlist on cycle and left it running. At least the jazz was low-key.

  “It might be time for breakfast,” Rex suggested.

  “Cook is already working on that, sir,” Pasi told him. “Along with a variety of morning-after preparations.” He glanced around the garden himself. “A large number of garments have been strewn across the house. I gathered them in the front foyer for guests to sort out as they leave.”

  “You might also have a pile of disposable robes on hand, just in case,” Rex suggested. “What clothing is left behind can be recycled.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rex walked into the house. All the walls had been pushed aside for the evening’s party. Rex had paid the environmental engineers who controlled the climate in the Palatine to set up sultry weather for the night, even though the Palatine was currently moving through its winter cycle. The humid evening had encouraged most of the guests to dive into the pool at least once during the night. Some had removed their clothes. Some hadn’t. Everyone appeared to have had a good time, either way. It had certainly sounded as if they had. The laughter, the music, the chatter, had all filtered through to his office where Rex had been reading, a pleasant backdrop to the peace in the room.

  The lounge pit had its share of occupants, too. One of them was Barny. He was snuggled up against the pretty strawberry blond whom Rex had noticed very early in the evening, looking pouty and reserved.

  Rex diverted to the lounge pit, crouched down at the edge and bent farther to shake Barny awake. Barny stirred and blinked. “Dad?”

  “Any idea where Julian is?”

  Barny frowned. “I think…upstairs.” The blonde stirred sleepily and nuzzled his chest and Barny’s frown deepened as he looked at the top of her head, almost as if he was just realizing she was in his arms.

  “In his room?” Rex clarified.

  “He has company.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” Rex rose to his feet once more.

  Barny tried to sit up. The blonde was a dead weight, holding him down. “Do you need something?”

  “I thought you might want some breakfast before the stampede to the kitchen begins.”

  “Hell, yes.” He shook the blonde. “I’ll dig Julian up, too.”

  Rex nodded, satisfied. He headed for his office. As he passed the private sitting room next to his office, he halted and backed up a few steps to look inside. Something odd had caught his eye as he had passed by.

  Now he could see what it was that had snagged his attention. There was a tight ball of bright orange übersilk on the floor, huddled in the angle created by the wall and the big terracotta tub holding the miniature cocoa bush.

  Michaela had been wearing that vibrant color last night. He had seen it fluttering here and there when he had passed through the house, greeting guests and lingering for short conversations when pressed into it.

  He had also heard her laughter, too, somewhere over where the tankball game had been running in 3D, with everyone gathered around the scaled images, swearing and groaning as the game progressed. When first blood showed, barely ten minutes into the game, it had been Michaela’s laughter that had underlined the moment.

  Rex drew closer to the orange übersilk. The garment she had been wearing had been a throwback to ancient Terra, with loose, flowing drapes that outlined her still slender figure. Now, it lay in motionless heaps…and Michaela was still in it. She was beneath the silk, as if she had burrowed under it. The belt around her waist had gone. She had pulled up the loose folds of the silk to hide her face and arms. She was curled up into a tight ball beneath it.

  Rex bent and pulled the übersilk away from her face and rested his fingers against her neck. The pulse was erratic, yet it was there. Her face, normally held in stiff lines of suspicion, especially when talking to him, looked very childish now.

  He lifted her up and put her on the sofa. She weighed next to nothing and as soon as he let her go, she tightened up into another ball, her knees to her chest, her face hidden by her knees. She wasn’t completely unconscious, then. She was nowhere close to being sober, either.

  Rex looked around the room, wondering why he was bothering to care. He spotted the crystal dish that didn’t belong on the sideboard and went over to it. Something white and powdery coated the bottom of it. There were red fragments in it, too. He had no idea what it was. Michaela’s definition of what consti
tuted a good time had shifted over the years. Since Julian and Barny had emerged two years ago, the mechanisms for enjoyment had become more extreme.

  He left her there. Pasi would take care of putting her to bed and having someone watch her. He was practiced at it.

  Rex went to his office. The fixed screen showed the caller still patiently waiting for him. The man was as much a stranger as anyone on the Endurance could be. He had bags under his eyes and a thin face and jowls. His sandy hair was shaggy and rumpled. He looked overworked and underfed. Rex might have seen his face before, although he was not someone Rex knew either officially or unofficially.

  “I apologize for the delay,” Rex told him.

  “Rex Julyan?” the man asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Your man…Pasi?” The man grimaced. “He said you might take a moment to get here. Unfortunately, this is not something I could leave for a more convenient time.”

  “And you are…?”

  “Burchard Bacchus. Head of the civil guard.”

  Bacchus was a civil servant. No wonder they had not met before.

  “Did someone complain about the noise? Or the heat?” Rex would have been surprised if they had. Everyone who lived within a kilometer of the house was here, somewhere.

  Bacchus shook his head. “I saw the lights from your house as I passed over a couple of hours ago. There was no noise I could hear. That’s not why I’m calling.”

  “You’re in the Palatine?”

  “I’m at the white house,” Bacchus said.

  The white house was on the other side of the parkland belt from here. Rex knew the place. It was one of the oldest houses in the Palatine and everyone seemed to have heard of it, even if they had never seen it before. People on the other side of the parkland liked their privacy, including Nerida Giles, who was the current owner of the house.

  Rex’s gut tightened. When had he last spoken with her? It had been years. More years than he cared to admit to.

  “You’re at Nerida’s house?” Rex asked Bacchus. “Is Nerida all right? Has something happened?”

  Bacchus looked even more grim than before. His face, with the jowls and bags under his eyes, had already looked sad. Now his expression was alarming.

  “No, I’m afraid Miss Giles is very much not all right,” Bacchus said and sighed. “She is dead, Mr. Julyan.”

  Rex drew in a breath, riding out the shock. “She’s younger than me!” He was fifty-five, not even middle-aged yet. Then he put it together. “Why is the civil guard attending a medical matter?” he demanded of Bacchus. “Her medic should be there.”

  “Oh, he is,” Bacchus said quickly. “He called us in because of what he discovered. She left a note, Mr. Julyan. It was addressed to you.”

  Rex sank down onto the chair. His heart squeezed. “Then…?”

  “Yes.” Bacchus sighed. “It appears she killed herself.”

  * * * * *

  Even though Belen got to the administrative wing early, Vilma and Pelagius were already waiting for her, sitting on the small chairs outside her office with pensive expressions. Belen smiled to herself. She could have predicted they would be here.

  Both of them jumped to their feet when she walked up to her door and unlocked it.

  Vilma, who was the administrative lead for the Medical Institute, lifted the board in her hand. “One hundred expressions of support!” Her wiry hair was jutting out from her head, waving at her movements. Even her pale eyes seemed to be bulging slightly.

  “And good morning to you, too,” Belen told her and went into her office. She didn’t invite them in. They would follow her in, anyway.

  Vilma waved the board again. “One hundred is well over a significant majority, Belen. One hundred is sixty-seven percent of all medical personal on the ship. Nearly seventy percent of medics are insisting upon a raise…and not just a simple raise.” This issue of pay scales had been Vilma’s pet project for nearly a year now. Belen had finally relented enough to agree to a straw poll of medics, to determine the majority opinion on the matter. Vilma had probably spent all night collating the results.

  “They want salaries that reflect the value of the role they play on the Endurance,” Vilma added. She sounded ferociously happy about it, too. If the medical profession got the raise they wanted, then Vilma would get the same raise. As much as Vilma would protest, Belen knew that had figured into her championship of the medics’ entreaties for more money.

  Belen’s office didn’t have a desk or visitor chairs. There was the single high stool she used when she was tired and she sank onto it now with a silent sigh. It was barely eight in the morning and already she felt drained. “The work we do reflects the value of our role,” she said. “Treating the sick, making them well, that is our reward.”

  Vilma nodded. “Exactly,” she said fiercely, her hair waving forward with the quick nod she made. “Without us, the population of the Endurance would not enjoy the good health and the pleasure a life free of illness brings them.”

  “Because the environmental engineers who supply the breathable atmosphere and the mechanical engineers who keep the ship together and flying have nothing to do with that pleasant lifestyle at all,” Belen said dryly. “To say nothing of the tank ball players who provide entertainment, the civil guards who maintain the law and…oh, about twenty other essential professions we couldn’t live without.”

  Vilma’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Yes, but…medics are even more important than mechanical engineers. We should be paid in a way that reflects our standing in the community.”

  “You get paid already,” Belen pointed out, struggling to keep her tone civil. These arguments about money reflecting perceived value always bothered her for reasons she had never been able to fathom.

  “It’s not enough,” Vilma shot back stoutly.

  “Not enough? You don’t have money for food?” Belen asked. “No, wait, you get basic rations just as all of us do. You get a roof over your head. What do you not have enough money to buy? I’m curious.”

  Vilma’s mouth opened.

  Belen glanced at Pelagius. So far, he had said nothing, leaving Vilma to argue by herself. His round face looked troubled.

  “You’re head of medical services coordination,” Belen told him. “You feel as Vilma does about this?”

  Pelagius looked at Vilma. His cheeks colored. “I…her argument has some merit.”

  Belen turned back to Vilma. “The medics on this ship are considered to be an essential service. Therefore, we all are paid over and above the standard rations, as a reward for choosing to serve the ship. That’s why you live in the Palatine, Vilma. That’s why Pelagius can put on those expensive dinner parties of his every month. To ask for even more is offensive.”

  Vilma looked taken aback. “But…but all the other essential services get paid more, too.”

  “As they should,” Belen said flatly.

  “I think, what Vilma is trying to say,” Pelagius said in his high, tight voice, “is that we train longer and the demands of our profession are more rigorous than, say, that of mechanical engineers. Anyone can be a mechanical engineer. Not everyone can be a medic.”

  “And not everyone is a medic.” Belen got to her feet. “When a candidate is accepted for medical training, that is what distinguishes them within the community. Not some ephemeral credit value that will mean nothing next year. The work we do is the reward…or it should be. If any medics feel their work is no longer rewarding, they’re free to move on to another profession at any time.” Belen injected snap into her voice.

  Vilma looked as if she wanted to protest, although they had been working together for a long time and she knew the tone Belen had used was her don’t-push-me voice.

  Belen relented. Just a little. “What in the world would you do with even more money, anyway, Vilma? Use your public spreadsheet as wall art?”

  “Money is money,” Vilma said stiffly. “That’s the point. I can use excess money to buy anything I want.”

  “And what are you going to do with all the pretty things you buy? Buy a bigger house to display them all? Where does it end?” Belen shook her head. “I don’t want to hear another word about pay raises, Vilma. Go back to your committees and tell them that. I will not present this to the Captain. I will not entertain any notion of money being in any way a reward or reflection of our status on the Endurance. The concept is utterly revolting.”