The Paradox Initiative

The Paradox Initiative

A Sci-Fi Novel of Adventure and Mystery

Alydia Rackham

Copyright 2013 Alydia Rackham. All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,

or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by TCK Publishing

www.TCKPublishing.com

For my brother

For Kim, Vanessa and Beth

For Cathryn
, Suzanne and Malyna

F
or Katie, who has been my Barnabas

And for
those of you who know who you are.

The alarm beeped.
Sharp, ear-splitting pulses.

Kestrel Evans
jerked awake.

She groped in the dark and slapped the top of the clock. The alarm stopped.
She peered toward the foot of her bed. Light seeped through the little gap between her windowsill and the room-darkening screen. Kestrel groaned, flopped over and threw her blanket over her head.

“I don’t want to,” she muttered to her pillow. The accusing blue light of her clock just glared at her through her thin blanket.

The soothing sleep music coming from her overhead speakers switched to a quicker, more up-beat tune. Kestrel gritted her teeth.

A
lower beep sounded. She huffed, pushed her covers off herself and glanced over to her desk where her little Gramcom sat. She dragged herself out of bed, and set her bare feet on the wooden floor. Swiping her long brown hair out of her face, she yanked her rectangular communicator off its stand. The screen lit up and she squinted down at it.

1 Message.

She punched the picture with her thumb and bit her lip. The message opened, and a bright red-and-green hologram hopped up from the output, making her blink. A vivid 3D image of a rose rapidly bloomed in front of her, and a puff of rose scent drifted into the air. Curly words then blipped into existence and Kestrel half smiled as she read.

So sorry that your job at the museum fell through. They’re idiots for not hiring the best intern they had. Hope you feel better soon
. ~Anny

Kestrel sighed
, closed the message, and snapped her fingers. Her four mushroom lamps came on, which hung in the corners of her ceiling. She tossed her Gramcom down on her bed and stepped up to her set of gray drawers. The bottom one slid open as her feet touched the floor near it. She folded her arms as she considered the clothes inside.

“No.” She said. The drawer
slipped shut, and the next one hissed open. She bit her lip. “No.” The next one opened. “Nope, nope, nope.” She glanced up. “Weather report?”

“
Partly cloudy
—” the male-toned computer boomed.

“
Sshhh!
” Kestrel scolded, wincing and throwing up a hand. “Morning voice!”

“Partly cloudy,” the computer began again, much quieter. “Current temperature: sixty-five. The high today: seventy-five. Wind speed: twenty miles per hour.”

Kestrel tapped the top dresser drawer with her knuckle and it opened. She yanked out a pair of calf-length black pants and a short-sleeved black shirt that came down to mid thigh. She peeled off her sleeping clothes, tossed them on the bed, put on her undergarments, pulled on the pants and shrugged into the shirt, then laced up the front. She tugged on a pair of closed-toed riding shoes, then dragged to her bedroom door, rubbing her eyes—

And banged her forehead into the door.

She jerked back, her hand flying to her head.

“Ajax!” she snapped at the computer. Nothing happened. She
heaved a sigh and slammed her palm against the door. “Wake up, stupid.”

The door buzzed open.
Her music stopped. Kestrel rolled her eyes and stumped out into the dark hall. “Worthless computer…” She swung around a corner stepped through the door of the white kitchen.

She stopped and blinked against the bright light. Her mother, pulling a protein shake out of the refrigerator, straightened and
slid the door shut.

“Good morning, Sis
,” she smiled. She wore a black, sharp suit, her blonde hair done up in a bun. She always looked so tall and dignified—and beautiful, of course. Her blue eyes sparkled at her daughter.

“How did you sleep?”

“Meh,” Kestrel shrugged, and started toward the refrigerator as well. To her left, she glimpsed her dad sitting at the kitchen table, also dressed in a black suit, chewing a bite of toast as he watched the business reports that blinked across his pad screen. He had graying black hair and a short beard. Across from him sat her two younger brothers, twins, who had the same complexion as their mother, and curly blonde hair. Each of them wolfed down his scrambled-egg substitute with one hand and held a beeping pad screen in the other.

“Are you two cramming for your
bio-stellar exam?” Kestrel arched an eyebrow at them as she passed.

“
I’m not cramming,” Marcus, the elder, said around a mouthful of food. “I’m playing
Ortheus
.”

“Then y
ou’re an idiot,” Aidus, the younger, remarked, narrowing his eyes at his own screen. “You’re going to fail.”

“I looked over everything
last night,” Marcus protested. “I know it all.”

“That had better be true,” their dad warned, glancing up at them. “Since you two
probably spent at least three hours playing games last night.”

The two teenage boys launched into a hearty self-defense while Kestrel drew up next to her mom,
faced the refrigerator and stared at the glowing screen on its stainless-steel front.

“Feeling okay?” her mom asked, pu
lling her into a side hug and kissing the side of her head. Kestrel sighed.

“I guess. Still not too happy.”

“That whole situation just makes me mad,” her dad muttered, finishing off his toast. “The museum tells you that they’re going to
hire
you after you finish your internship, so you should go ahead and get an apartment downtown and plan on quitting your job—and then
nothing
. They hire the owner’s
nephew
.” He shook his head. “I’m just glad you were able to get out of that apartment lease.”

“
I’m
glad to have you around again,” her mom winked at her and crossed to the cupboard. “I was lonesome without you.”

Kestrel smiled a little in spite of herself.
She flicked her fingertip across the images on the front of the refrigerator, biting her lip, then pointed to one of a fried egg. The stove and refrigerator revved up, and she headed to the bathroom across the hall.

She
untied and sleepily combed out her chestnut, waist-length hair with the straightening comb, eliminating every wave and stray curl.

“How do those
dark streaks look?” her mother called from the kitchen. “Have they faded at all?”

Kestrel glowered
, holding up a strand.

“No. I’m not
using that dying program again.” Swiftly, she bound all her hair up in a high ponytail so her tresses fell across her shoulders. After washing her face, she glanced at herself in the reflecting screen, then glared. Her skin was smooth, but she looked slightly colorless.

“Why don’t you wear that new sparkly purple eye-shadow I got you?” her mom suggested. “It looks so pretty with your big brown eyes.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Kestrel admitted, glaring back into the gaze of the identical young woman. She headed back into to the kitchen, retrieved her now-fried egg along with a glass of juice, sat down at the table on the other side of her dad and made herself eat. She only half listened to her brothers’ banter and her dad’s comments about the stock market, and her mother’s concerns about the case she would be trying that day. Kestrel gazed out the window at the birds fluttering on the green lawn, her heart heavy, and finished her meal. After putting her clattering dishes in the washer and brushing her teeth, she grabbed her satchel and pushed the front door open.

“Bye, sweetie,” her dad called. “Try to have some fun anyway, okay?”

“Okay,” she managed. “Bye.”

A warm breeze greeted her
. She drew a slow breath of the scent of apple blossoms. She kicked a rock down the cement path that cut through the lawn, adjusting her pack on her shoulder. Robins chirped madly all around her, and she caught sight of several white butterflies. Bright sunlight flickered through the new leaves of the maple in her front yard, glinting against the white and chrome of her racing blastbike parked in the drive.

She reached out and patted the soft, leather saddle, then
slung her leg over the bike, grabbed the handlebars and pressed the buttons with her thumbs.

“
Good morning, Kestrel Evans
,” a calm female voice greeted her from the console.

“Hi, Thrix. Let’s go.”

The engine rumbled to life and revved. Heavy-beat driving music blared from the speakers. Kestrel turned it down two clicks, then kicked off.

T
he light, slender, two-wheeled vehicle zipped down the driveway, then swung around and darted off down the narrow paved road. Trees and houses whipped past, lit by the golden morning. The finely-tuned engine sang. Wind whipped Kestrel’s hair. She squinted.

“S
parks,” she muttered.

“
Is there a problem?”
Thrix voice asked.

“Forgot my
shades,” she answered over the wind. “Put up the shield and call Anny for me, will you?”

“
As you wish.”

With a zap,
the invisible, protective force field popped up around Kestrel, shutting out the wind, humidity and road noise. The bike phone trilled. Kestrel kept her eyes on the road as she swept out of the narrow residential street and up an on-ramp, leaning hard to one side, her engine howling into a new gear. Cool air blew at her from the console.

She
clicked on her turn signal and merged into a broad, busy four lane highway. But even though hundreds of flashing liftcars and bikes sped along all around her on their morning commute, the only engine she could hear was that of her own bike.

“Hi, Sweetflower,” Anny’s clear voice came through the small
vox speaker. “Hello.”

“Sleep any last night?”
Anny wondered.

“Not much,” Kestrel
confessed, swerving around a puttering, rusty family wagon and settling back in the saddle. “I still can’t believe I didn’t get it.”

“I told you, girl.
They’re idiots. You’ll find another job soon—a better one. But I understand if you need chocolate.”

Kestrel smiled crookedly as she eyed the upcoming traffic light
hovering over her lane.

“That’s a definite possibility
.”

“
I’ll get some for you,” Anny stated. “And, as a bonus, I’ll send my personal ninjas after the museum manager. Wahahaha!”

Kestrel grinned
, her heart lifting.

“Thanks. You’re the best.”

“Message me if you need to. And if you want, I can come by and we can get lunch—I’m just down the terminal, remember. It isn’t the season to travel to ice planets, so selling thermal gear hasn’t really kept me that busy.”

“Okay—sounds good,” Kestrel said. “I’m almost there. Talk to you later.”

“Ciao.”

The call ended just as a massive
, heavy growl pressed down on her. She grimaced and glanced up.

A
huge, sleek, silver ship glided through the air, glittering in the towering light, leaving three graceful jet streams behind in the crystal blue sky. Kestrel watched its trajectory, for she and the ship now headed the same direction.

Ahead of them
, leaping up against the skyline like a mountain, waited a vast, city-sized structure resembling a titanic stadium. Ten miles wide and two miles high, its outer walls flashed with thousands of moving advertisements and signs, and in the towering sky above it, hundreds of glittering, multi-colored spacecraft circled and wove, waiting their turn to land.

Kestrel
kicked her bike into the highest gear and sped through the last intersection, blasting past two older bikes to sweep down the exit ramp.

“
I hate Mondays,” she sighed as the shadow of the spaceship fell across her, and she pulled into the crowded, noisy, seething parking lot of the Kansas City Space Port.