The Pandora Chronicles - Book 1 (A Scifi Adventure Thriller) Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Get more

  Prologue Title

  Prologue

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Part 2

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue Title

  Epilogue

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  About the Author

  Also by the Author - Legacy

  Also by the Author - Evil Plan Inc.

  THE PANDORA CHRONICLES:

  BOOK 1

  RYAN ATTARD

  Copyright © 2014 by Ryan Attard. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Click or visit: Ryanattard.com

  To my parents and friends, who keep asking me to leave the house and try some more ‘outdoorsy’ stuff.

  To my beta readers who read the book first, got excited about it and reassured me that I didn’t suck. Hopefully you, the reader, will share their opinion.

  And finally, to all adventurers and explorers of the world—may you find the treasures you seek.

  But no aliens. Because that would be crazy… right?

  Get the STARTER LIBRARY for FREE

  Join the author’s exclusive no-spam mailing list and get the official CHARACTER PROFILES for Nick Solomon and Agent Excalibur.

  Plus Legacy Book #1, FIRSTBORN, and the season preview for EVIL PLAN INC.

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  http://eepurl.com/bHSkSf

  PROLOGUE

  “It doesn’t think. It doesn’t feel.

  It doesn’t laugh or cry.

  All it does from dusk ’til dawn

  Is make the soldiers die.”

  — Phyrexian Hulk, Wizards of the Coast.

  Unknown billions of years ago.

  Their arrival was not planned.

  It was merely coincidence, a trick of fate, that They had been standing on that particular rock, amongst all other rocks in the vastness of space; one that was destined for something much bigger than They could ever imagine.

  They had to make an emergency stop, which not an uncommon occurrence. Their ability to wander the vast cosmos was a recent discovery, still in its infancy stage.

  So They had bound their vessel to a barren rock orbiting a planet, as one of their repair modules fixed the damage on their craft. It was just another routine stop—nothing about that moment was remarkable in any way.

  But the universe, as They learned, had a way of taking its own course.

  The azure planet was close, but not dangerously so. It might have seemed beautiful to any other species, but to Them, who saw wonders beyond imagination with each step they took across the galaxy, it was simply rubbish.

  Pure, uninhabitable rubbish.

  They paid it no attention, nor any of the other planets in that solar system. There was no life, no resources, and thus was of no interest to Them.

  They did not feel the fist-sized meteor bump into their perch. Out in the cosmos, planets and stars reached vast sizes, and such a small thing could hold no bearing.

  But Their underestimation would come at a very hefty price.

  The meteor embedded itself on the giant rock’s side, leaving only the slightest of tremors. The momentum it carried, however, initiated a chain reaction.

  The rock They were on began altering its course, slowly accelerating as it moved steadily towards its azure neighbor. It began to spin faster and moments later was locked onto the blue planet’s magnetic field, with the latter pulling it closer and closer.

  Realizing Their oversight, They scurried back into their ship for safety, knowing that unless They took off, They might perish along with the rock they stood upon. Their ship had its own defenses and was strong enough to withstand most impacts, although rarely of this magnitude. Suddenly, fire erupted all around them as the rock and the planet created friction. It was too late for takeoff now—the ship was still in need of repairs, and the magnetic forces in play had become too strong.

  Seconds later, the rock and the planet collided.

  It was the beginning of something so terrifying, and yet so wonderful.

  The blue planet tilted upon its own axis and its crust broke into a dozen pieces, while the smaller rock simply shattered. Little did the hitch-hikers know that They were in the presence of a rare event. The two celestial bodies did not explode upon impact, or blow up into a million fragments.

  Instead, they merged.

  The few who miraculously survived the collision emerged from their wrecked vessel. They observed the azure planet roil as it terraformed. Knowing that this planet might still implode upon itself, They were overcame by the subsequent dilemma: how would They leave?

  They were stranded here, with dwindling supplies and a ship in ruins, down to the last remaining survivors of their party. Resigned to Their fate, They would have to hide and wait for the planet to settle. Time was of no relevance to Them, and once their probes and sensors deemed it safe, They took their first steps on the surface the exoplanet whose birth They witnessed.

  And even once the planet ceased its violence, They were still trapped inside of it. This was not Their home, and They were dying.

  A solution presented itself, provided by the very planet which had brought upon Them such turmoil. They discovered something that was unique to this planet, a resource They had yet to encountered.

  Water.

  This clear liquid, with its very basic chemistry, reacted differently to various minerals and materials onboard their ship. One experiment led to the next, and They soon mastered the use of this element. Some even learned how to apply it to Their bodies and found it nourishing against the tempestuous climate of the planet. They understood that water would provide the foundation for life, and that this planet’s ecosystem was just waiting for the correct mixture in order to blossom into something alien.

  And that’s when They decided that this planet would be perfect for Their purposes. Rather than conquering and mutating lifeforms, They would simply create life instead.

  They began tampering with the planet itself, nudging it in the right direction. Soon enough the first microscopic traces of life were evident and They departed, eager to return several millennia later, and reap the fruits They had sown.

  But once again the universe thwarted Their plans.

  Life on the blue planet had become savage and monstrous. Large reptiles roamed the
land, and many more still refused to leave the seas from whence they came from. This cornucopia of bestiality and blood was not what They had envisioned. They, the creators, were powerful and sophisticated, and yet these beasts could flourish no further, stunting any possibility of a secondary, more intelligent evolution.

  And They were furious.

  A new species had to be created, They decided, even if it had to be engineered from scratch. And so, They manipulated the heavens once more, and wrought destruction upon the planet, eradicating nearly all life.

  It would be a fresh start, a clean state. Only this time, They would control nature, instead of allowing it to take its own course.

  They were overjoyed with this new creature They had orchestrated. It had been engineered to near perfection, and some of Them even grafted random parts of their DNA code onto this new strand of life, thus ensuring multiple species. Furthermore, the more ambitious of Them planted their DNA strands to be activated only once the correct species emerged. After all, natural law had to be followed, and only the fittest deserved to be genetically linked to their creators.

  Future inhabitants of this planet would go on to call that particular strand of mutation human.

  Satisfied, They set this new species free, and watched it progress from one stage of evolution to the next.

  They were overjoyed.

  Only a few mere centuries ago, They had discovered the laws of the universe. They had manipulated space and time, and found other planets. Some, They inhabited, while others They ravaged, leaving behind only an empty husk. Their species had rewritten parts of the universe, perfecting and perverting as They saw fit.

  And now, They had succeeded in becoming gods, creating life.

  Knowing that this new species They created would flourish, They left. This galaxy was vast and They yearned to explore it.

  But They would watch over this planet from afar and wait. It might take several lifetimes, but They had all the time in the world.

  All the time, in all the worlds.

  PART 1

  “I did not tell half of what I saw, for I knew I would not be believed.”

  — Marco Polo

  Chapter 1

  Port Royale, Jamaica, 1713.

  Captain Jack Finnegan stood on the ship’s deck with his eyes closed.

  It was good to be back home.

  After the Belladonna’s six month voyage, he was starting to long for dry land again.

  Sapphire colored waters splashed against the docks and jetties, covering their dark, wet wooden planks with a fine layer of sea-spray and the occasional piece of algae. The open market stalls, selling a cornucopia of imported goods, were a chaos of colors, noises and smells, providing a stark contrast to the calm and serene background of sun-bleached houses and the gentle sway of palm trees. Port Royale was vibrant with life, while oozing with a sense of order and dignity, what some people referred to as the ‘gentlemanly ways.’

  Finnegan knew the latter was all poppycock, something the wig-wearing aristocrats told themselves in order to maintain their superiority over the colonial natives. Any other man in Finnegan’s position, with his kind of reputation, would have only stopped at Port Royale to resupply, before seeking port elsewhere. Tortuga had gained a reputation for pirate-friendly shores these days, as did St. Martinique.

  But Finnegan was a different sort of pirate, a privateer, as indicated by his Letter of Marque, and he needn’t fear the law of the land. His status allowed him to be behind the Navy’s cannons, rather than in front of them.

  For six months, he had roamed the Atlantic on the King’s behalf, looting any Spanish vessel in sight, and his luck finally panned out. Two of the plundered ships had yielded treasure in the form of silks, spices, and precious stones; all of which were in high demand on this side of the Caribbean. He and his crew were about to get paid, and Finnegan was debating whether to give his crewmen double their share. They had earned it, and it would certainly help his popularity.

  He stood on the railing of his ship, and watched the people roaming about the port. There were several other ships like his docked along the moors, most of them vacant. With his eyes closed, he could hear seagulls wailing above, flags lazily flapping along the gentle afternoon breeze, and the incessant murmur of people’s voices. The heavy steps of his crew members boomed as they unloaded various crates, occasionally dropping something on the gangplank. It would send a small vibration along the wooden deck, followed by a string of curses from the fellow who dropped it, and accented by even more curses from the quartermaster. It was the latter’s job to make sure the cargo was delivered safely, and even a small loss could mean a significant cut from their pay.

  A loud crashing noise snapped Finnegan from his peaceful meditation. On the docks, he saw three of his crew members, with a crate smashed open in front of them, and a dozen guards in red uniforms, carrying musket rifles. One of the crew members yelled something to the man leading the other soldiers.

  “Watch how you speak to King’s Men, sailor,” the lead soldier bellowed as he spat in the crewman’s face.

  “Damn red coat! You’ll pay for that,” the crewman snarled in response while extracting a long, dull knife from his belt. The pirate waved the fish gutter around as the soldiers fell into formation. The lead soldier quickly grasped his rifle and aimed it at the crewman’s face.

  At the step of the gangplank, the quartermaster raised his head to look at Finnegan and yelled with a tone of urgency.

  “Captain Finnegan, Sir!”

  Finnegan was already halfway down the gangplank and running towards the altercation. He drew his sword and stepped between the soldier and his crewman. With his free hand, he grasped the crewman’s wrist and drove his weapon-arm down, sending the man crashing into the ground once more. At the same time, he struck the rifle with his sword, directing it away from his crew members.

  A shot sailed harmlessly over the ocean.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the soldier yelled.

  “I am King’s Men, just like yourself. Let us go about our business.” Finnegan’s tone bore such an authority that some of the soldiers recoiled.

  “I see no King’s Men here,” the lead soldier said. He nodded at his men. “Arrest them!”

  Captain Finnegan crouched down, scooping up the fish gutter his crewman had dropped and threw himself at the approaching soldiers. Since he had no firearms of his own, his only tactic was to get so close that their rifles would be useless. He struck one man in his shoulder as he deflected the bayonet of another with his saber. Pushing the man back into his companions, Finnegan spun and lifted his leg. The heel of his boot connected with the leader’s jaw and sent him sprawling on the ground.

  A single shot rang loud in the air, stunting the fight. A small army of soldiers, their uniforms more pristine and regal, surrounded Finnegan and his crew members, as well as the first group of soldiers. Finnegan dropped the knife and slowly sheathed his sword.

  “I do not wish to fight,” he said, raising both hands. “My crew and I are King’s Men. We’re just minding our own business.”

  “I shall be the judge of that, pirate.”

  The voice came from a tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing a white-feathered hat and bearing on his uniform a captain’s insignia. As he passed the leader of the soldiers who attacked Finnegan’s crew, he huffed in disgust at him and muttered “get up” with utter venom.

  “I have a Letter of Marque,” Finnegan said, extracting the folded document from his pocket.

  The soldier captain’s narrow eyes darted from side to side as he quickly inspected the paper.

  “So it would seem, Captain Jack Finnegan of the Belladonna,” he finally said, handing the document back to its owner. “You aren’t, per chance, the same Captain Finnegan who ransacked three Spanish galleons on his first mission from the King?”

  “Yes, Sir, in the flesh.”

  “Remarkable,” the captain said, with a slight bow. “I apologize for m
y subordinate’s incompetence. But if there’s any more trouble during your stay in Port Royale, I will have both you and your associates shot. Am I understood?”

  The two men stood there eyeing one another for nearly two minutes until Finnegan broke the tense silence. “Very well,” he said with as much amicability as he could muster. “We shall be on our way shortly.”

  “Excellent,” the soldier captain replied. Then he spun on his heels, and at the wave of his hand, all the soldiers dispersed back to their regular stations.

  “Quartermaster,” Finnegan said, once the last of the soldiers had vanished from sight. “Have the men resume their tasks, then let us reconvene at Annie’s for a drink and a warm meal.”

  “Aye, Captain,” the quartermaster replied.

  Finnegan was about to climb back on his beloved ship when something caught his eye—a carriage, white and pristine. It had been absent when they docked earlier in the day. Finnegan assumed it had stopped to witness the fight between him and the soldiers, as did the majority of the other port workers. But once the real army showed up, everyone had dispersed.

  Except for that carriage.

  He peered more closely at it and heard whoever was inside bark an order. A well-dressed elderly man hurriedly climbed behind the horses and coerced them into motion. The sudden movement jerked the curtain open for the slightest of seconds and all Finnegan saw was a single lock of golden hair.