Read Online The Deep Link (The Ascendancy Trilogy Book 1) by Veronica Sicoe - Free Book Online
Authors: Veronica Sicoe
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entirely
understand its meaning.
We're on the traditional planetside trip that all High
Emranti nestlings must make. With neurological maturity comes the voyage to the
Emranti homeworld to pass the rite of adulthood, and return to the ships to
take our place within society.
My birth twin and I know each other better than anything
else. Deeplinked, we are the same—a single being split between two
bodies, thinking together, feeling together. United by the Phylra particles
that flood our nervous systems, resonating with each other through space and
time, perfectly attuned.
We step into the circle together, and something starts to
change inside us.
The grains of sand beneath our feet begin to tremble. Tiny
vibrations run up through our nerves, setting numerous, infinitesimal chain
reactions in motion. We let go of each other's hands.
I crouch and stick my hands into the sand. It trickles
between my fingers like metal filings. And the vibrations grow stronger, making
us tremble. An intense disquiet takes hold of me. It's an unbearable rush, a
primeval instinct that floods me and alters my perception, letting me recognize
what's really going on.
The grass isn't copper and lush. It's not even grass—it's
a sea of fibroid creatures, all dead and scorched by some horrible disaster.
The sand is made of billions of nanites all coming alive as they suck out our
energy. The crystalline pond is a pool of klaar that transported us down
into this open grave.
This isn't our homeworld. It's the site of our parents'
latest assignment—of their latest containment .
Something ignites inside of me. I look at my twin, and he
looks back at me. In an instant we lunge at each other with a beastly desire to
kill.
My palms crack open and thousands of tendrils shoot out of
my skin and latch onto his face. We tumble into the quaking mass of nanites and
tear ourselves open in a blood-gushing carnage.
I jerk up in my bed, in the darkness, panting and sweating
and clutching at my face.
I'm Taryn. I'm here .
I rub my face vigorously, then punch the bulkhead
repeatedly until I hit the intercom and the lights turn on.
It was just a nightmare. It couldn't have been real...
Could it? Did Amharr really butcher his own brother?
I cringe and pull the blanket tighter around me.
What happened to him?
What's happening to me ?
-
I realize it's five in the morning when Jade answers my
call—which took me a good half hour to patch through the intercom by hand—with
a series of mumbled profanities.
"I need to ask you a favor," I say.
"Bug-Nut?" He snaps awake. "What—? How are
you?"
"Bugfuck crazy. Can you meet me?"
"Sure."
"At breakfast. In front of the mess hall, 'round
six."
"Course. But... What happened to you? Preston said
you just popped up in some cargo bay."
"I'll explain later."
"Okay. See you at the mess hall, oh six
hundred." I can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm so glad you're back
in one piece."
"The wrong piece."
He chuckles.
I close the com and climb back up into my bunkbed. I'm
intact, physically speaking. There's not a single trace of what's really going
on here. No proof. Almost makes my anxiety unjustified, like I have no right to
feel so wounded, no good reason to be scared. But I do.
Predictably, breakfast is the last thing on my mind when I
enter the mess hall. A vile mixture of smells and noises assaults me as I open
the door. The room is packed and damp, a cauldron chock-full of limbs and
salivating mouths. My attention darts from face to face, table to table and fork
to fork, and my stomach churns.
Ignorant. All of them. So content with themselves. Unaware
they owe their comfort to the TMC's ruthless profit-making. They pretend to be
better than the Ticks, dedicate their lives to do things differently, but the
very food they gorge themselves on comes from the Ticks' plunder of the
Dorylinae's food processing tech. Spoils of their genocidal conquest of Tau
Ceti.
I look at these people, at how they eat and
understand its meaning.
We're on the traditional planetside trip that all High
Emranti nestlings must make. With neurological maturity comes the voyage to the
Emranti homeworld to pass the rite of adulthood, and return to the ships to
take our place within society.
My birth twin and I know each other better than anything
else. Deeplinked, we are the same—a single being split between two
bodies, thinking together, feeling together. United by the Phylra particles
that flood our nervous systems, resonating with each other through space and
time, perfectly attuned.
We step into the circle together, and something starts to
change inside us.
The grains of sand beneath our feet begin to tremble. Tiny
vibrations run up through our nerves, setting numerous, infinitesimal chain
reactions in motion. We let go of each other's hands.
I crouch and stick my hands into the sand. It trickles
between my fingers like metal filings. And the vibrations grow stronger, making
us tremble. An intense disquiet takes hold of me. It's an unbearable rush, a
primeval instinct that floods me and alters my perception, letting me recognize
what's really going on.
The grass isn't copper and lush. It's not even grass—it's
a sea of fibroid creatures, all dead and scorched by some horrible disaster.
The sand is made of billions of nanites all coming alive as they suck out our
energy. The crystalline pond is a pool of klaar that transported us down
into this open grave.
This isn't our homeworld. It's the site of our parents'
latest assignment—of their latest containment .
Something ignites inside of me. I look at my twin, and he
looks back at me. In an instant we lunge at each other with a beastly desire to
kill.
My palms crack open and thousands of tendrils shoot out of
my skin and latch onto his face. We tumble into the quaking mass of nanites and
tear ourselves open in a blood-gushing carnage.
I jerk up in my bed, in the darkness, panting and sweating
and clutching at my face.
I'm Taryn. I'm here .
I rub my face vigorously, then punch the bulkhead
repeatedly until I hit the intercom and the lights turn on.
It was just a nightmare. It couldn't have been real...
Could it? Did Amharr really butcher his own brother?
I cringe and pull the blanket tighter around me.
What happened to him?
What's happening to me ?
-
I realize it's five in the morning when Jade answers my
call—which took me a good half hour to patch through the intercom by hand—with
a series of mumbled profanities.
"I need to ask you a favor," I say.
"Bug-Nut?" He snaps awake. "What—? How are
you?"
"Bugfuck crazy. Can you meet me?"
"Sure."
"At breakfast. In front of the mess hall, 'round
six."
"Course. But... What happened to you? Preston said
you just popped up in some cargo bay."
"I'll explain later."
"Okay. See you at the mess hall, oh six
hundred." I can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm so glad you're back
in one piece."
"The wrong piece."
He chuckles.
I close the com and climb back up into my bunkbed. I'm
intact, physically speaking. There's not a single trace of what's really going
on here. No proof. Almost makes my anxiety unjustified, like I have no right to
feel so wounded, no good reason to be scared. But I do.
Predictably, breakfast is the last thing on my mind when I
enter the mess hall. A vile mixture of smells and noises assaults me as I open
the door. The room is packed and damp, a cauldron chock-full of limbs and
salivating mouths. My attention darts from face to face, table to table and fork
to fork, and my stomach churns.
Ignorant. All of them. So content with themselves. Unaware
they owe their comfort to the TMC's ruthless profit-making. They pretend to be
better than the Ticks, dedicate their lives to do things differently, but the
very food they gorge themselves on comes from the Ticks' plunder of the
Dorylinae's food processing tech. Spoils of their genocidal conquest of Tau
Ceti.
I look at these people, at how they eat and
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