Kindle Edition
Amazon
Amazon
Category:
Science Fiction
Publisher: Amazon
ISBN-10: 1493625969
Type: Fiction
Pages: 230
Copyright: Sept 18, 2013
ISBN-13: 9781493625963
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
Born on the Inceptum Fidelis, a spaceship bound to colonize a distant planet, Adelene is walled into a world of luxury and peace. Yet as she emerges out of the perfect childhood crafted for her, the dark secrets lurking behind the ship's seemingly flawless society slowly begin to surface.
Adelene’s world is one of tranquility, luxury, beauty and youth. Yet beyond the manicured lawns, the ponds and trees, there stand the rigid Walls that lock out the black void of Outer Space. Aboard the vast Inceptum Fidelis, a generational spaceship bound to colonize another planet, there is no poverty, no war, no crime. Some have seen the Earth they left behind, some will see the Faraway World, and others—like sixteen-year-old Adelene—will know neither. They are the honored Middle Generation, sacrificed for the sake of humanity.
The journey will last 150 years.
Escape is unfathomable, and the mere thought of it, seditious. Erased from all memory sources by the totalitarian regime on the ship, every relic and information from the past is treasured in secrecy. As Adelene emerges out of the perfect childhood crafted for her, the dark secrets lurking behind the ship's seemingly flawless society begin to surface, and curiosity soon plunges her and her group of friends into a series of dangerous events and horrid truths.
Excerpt
The doorbell rang once and woke her, and made her gasp. It was quiet, so utterly quiet. Behind the shadowy curtains large flakes of snow invaded the dark sky that reached across the plains and fell behind the Adirondacks—one with the night, one with the silence. She sat up and reached for her glasses on the small wooden tabletop at her side. Who is it that rings?
She stepped warily out of bed. The floor was cold under her bare feet. The kitchen door stood partially open, a warm glow seeping into the dim hallway from within. The domestic stepped from the light and walked towards her, attentive and alert.
“Miss?” it said.
“What time is it, Alon?” she asked.
The domestic looked pale in the obscurity. “It’s 3:42 AM. Should I answer the door, Miss?”
She looked towards the front door. Whoever stood behind it had not rung twice, and there was a deep silence inside the house. “Who is out there?”
“It’s a child, miss.”
“A child? What on Earth—” She stared once more at the door, vaguely distinguishable in the darkness against the furthermost wall, and then back at her domestic. “A child? At this hour?”
“Do you wish me to answer the door?”
“Turn on the lights,” she said, “I will get the door.” As she walked, she tucked her hands in her elbows and pressed her crossed arms against her nightgown. The chilly air, hanging motionless around her, made her shiver. She grabbed a silk shawl from the wooden coat rack below the staircase and wrapped it around her neck. The domestic followed her. She opened the door without a word.
Standing pale and quiet, his feet buried in the thin snow that rested on the doorstep, was a boy. He seemed no more than eight years old. He stared up at her patiently. His placid blue eyes seemed to glisten in the warm light that fell onto the elusive features of his face from behind the open door.
The boy said something in another language, and she did not understand. His voice was small and frail, yet composed.
The woman stared at the shadowy figure bundled in layers of snow-covered clothing, the whitish forehead and blond curls tucked under a large fur hat. The child wore black aviator trousers and a well-tailored merino duffle coat.
She stood in the light of the entrance and her lips were parted slightly as though she were about to speak, but whatever words she wanted to say she could not find, and for a while she said nothing. The child’s eyes did not wonder from
hers, even when briefly she turned her gaze towards the solitary night and the waves of snow that twirled in the silence.
He waited patiently. He held something in his hands—a small black cricket—cupped in both palms like a treasure. It did not move. It did not chirp. Maybe the cold had killed it, and maybe the boy had not realized.
“Domina, may I have a horse?” he said, with the same pale voice as light as an echo, an echo that the night had lifted with snowy arms and carried to her ears.
“Please, domina, will you give me a horse?”
|
