Read Online Deviation by A.J. Maguire - Free Book Online
Authors: A.J. Maguire
Tags: Science-Fiction
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bare-chested male youth crossed the screen.
The complications that went with this line of thought were overwhelming. If the Makeem ever found this place the Novo Femina temple would be razed, its followers executed for gross blasphemy. After the Mavirus Carcinoma had nearly obliterated the female population, the Makeem had risen to power, making a fairly convincing argument that God had chosen to punish women for their vanity. Their proclamations were strengthened when Makeem scientists came up with the only way to save the human race - a genetically altering vaccine that could combat the Mavirus.
But the vaccine came with a price. Mesa had been a prime example of this. She'd been born with only half of her left arm. By the time he'd met her, she had already undergone the surgery to replace the limb with robotics. There were other women, like his mother, who had less fortunate birth defects and were more machine than human anymore. According to the Makeem, this was the natural price that women had to pay. It had always seemed like a jump to Hedric, but Makeem factions were everywhere and quite popular, so he'd never questioned it out loud.
The vanity that the Makeem preached against was evident on the screen before him, seeming to solidify everything he'd ever heard. But then, with sudden faltering shock, Hedric realized what was really bothering him about the display. The women, all of them, were perfect. There was not a glint of metal on any of them. No deformities.
Perfect flesh and blood.
The hair on his arms stood stiff. He was fairly certain he'd heard his mother use the word 'prophet' in that last transmission.
"I've located the other ship," Myron said. "It's not far."
"Good," Keats said from the ladder, "Because I'm going to have to gut it in order to make this ship flyable again."
"Borden got us pretty good in the belly," Myron frowned as he began maneuvering the Lothogy. "Sorry about that, Captain. I did my best."
Hedric saw the beach scene slide out of view as they headed for a dense thicket of trees. They were still far enough away that no one on the beach had seen them. Myron was smart enough to know that if they were moving to hide, he had to avoid contact with any other vessels along the way.
"Yes, well, half the damage could have been prevented by keeping the ship airborne," Keats' snarky tone caught his attention.
"If we'd stayed airborne they would have killed us," Myron said.
"I meant the continued dive. The dive I demanded we not do, the dive that nearly crushed the ship."
"Keats," Hedric turned from the screen and faced the engineer. "Shut up and fix my ship."
"She's my ship too."
"Not today she isn't."
Whatever argument Keats was about to make ended when Jellison gruffly pushed his way to the top of the ladder. The soldier grunted in effort as he lowered a large, bulky crate onto the walkway and crouched behind it. Jellison looked baffled at the crate, which sent Hedric's alarms off again. With another frown, he watched Jellison pull out packages, all labeled with their names, and begin to hand them out.
Fueled by his growing irritation, Hedric ripped his package open, tearing through the vacuum sealed plastic with relative ease. Given the restrictions on uniforms for people of Hedric's stature, he was taken off guard - yet again - by the civilian garments he pulled from the plastic. Faded blue pants in a material he hadn't encountered, and a nondescript black shirt, both in his size. There was one weapon, a fairly archaic looking 9mm with no serial number and a handheld GPS unit. He recognized the GPS device from history class and choked on the final realization of the day.
Whatever wormhole his mother had sent him through had landed them somewhere in the 21st century. It was the only explanation that fit, as impossible as it was.
The GPS powered on in his hand, acquired satellites and began directing to a preloaded location. He lowered the GPS, not needing to ask where it was leading
The complications that went with this line of thought were overwhelming. If the Makeem ever found this place the Novo Femina temple would be razed, its followers executed for gross blasphemy. After the Mavirus Carcinoma had nearly obliterated the female population, the Makeem had risen to power, making a fairly convincing argument that God had chosen to punish women for their vanity. Their proclamations were strengthened when Makeem scientists came up with the only way to save the human race - a genetically altering vaccine that could combat the Mavirus.
But the vaccine came with a price. Mesa had been a prime example of this. She'd been born with only half of her left arm. By the time he'd met her, she had already undergone the surgery to replace the limb with robotics. There were other women, like his mother, who had less fortunate birth defects and were more machine than human anymore. According to the Makeem, this was the natural price that women had to pay. It had always seemed like a jump to Hedric, but Makeem factions were everywhere and quite popular, so he'd never questioned it out loud.
The vanity that the Makeem preached against was evident on the screen before him, seeming to solidify everything he'd ever heard. But then, with sudden faltering shock, Hedric realized what was really bothering him about the display. The women, all of them, were perfect. There was not a glint of metal on any of them. No deformities.
Perfect flesh and blood.
The hair on his arms stood stiff. He was fairly certain he'd heard his mother use the word 'prophet' in that last transmission.
"I've located the other ship," Myron said. "It's not far."
"Good," Keats said from the ladder, "Because I'm going to have to gut it in order to make this ship flyable again."
"Borden got us pretty good in the belly," Myron frowned as he began maneuvering the Lothogy. "Sorry about that, Captain. I did my best."
Hedric saw the beach scene slide out of view as they headed for a dense thicket of trees. They were still far enough away that no one on the beach had seen them. Myron was smart enough to know that if they were moving to hide, he had to avoid contact with any other vessels along the way.
"Yes, well, half the damage could have been prevented by keeping the ship airborne," Keats' snarky tone caught his attention.
"If we'd stayed airborne they would have killed us," Myron said.
"I meant the continued dive. The dive I demanded we not do, the dive that nearly crushed the ship."
"Keats," Hedric turned from the screen and faced the engineer. "Shut up and fix my ship."
"She's my ship too."
"Not today she isn't."
Whatever argument Keats was about to make ended when Jellison gruffly pushed his way to the top of the ladder. The soldier grunted in effort as he lowered a large, bulky crate onto the walkway and crouched behind it. Jellison looked baffled at the crate, which sent Hedric's alarms off again. With another frown, he watched Jellison pull out packages, all labeled with their names, and begin to hand them out.
Fueled by his growing irritation, Hedric ripped his package open, tearing through the vacuum sealed plastic with relative ease. Given the restrictions on uniforms for people of Hedric's stature, he was taken off guard - yet again - by the civilian garments he pulled from the plastic. Faded blue pants in a material he hadn't encountered, and a nondescript black shirt, both in his size. There was one weapon, a fairly archaic looking 9mm with no serial number and a handheld GPS unit. He recognized the GPS device from history class and choked on the final realization of the day.
Whatever wormhole his mother had sent him through had landed them somewhere in the 21st century. It was the only explanation that fit, as impossible as it was.
The GPS powered on in his hand, acquired satellites and began directing to a preloaded location. He lowered the GPS, not needing to ask where it was leading
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