Clone Wars: Armageddon
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by Kaitlyn O'Connor
Category: Erotica/Erotic Science Fiction/Science Fiction
Description: In a world where natural disasters have created hardship and social unrest, a breakthrough in medical science brings about a ray of hope. Scientists learn how to manipulate the DNA strands to obliterate genetic disorders, and also to beautify. Those who can afford it rush to correct weight problems, difficult hair, eye color, more pleasing body shapes, and so on. Those who can't are disgruntled until they discover these things are covered by social medicine and available to all. The improvements the government manages to make in living conditions and the preoccupation with the 'new toy' calms the waters. Things become pleasantly peaceful once more--and then unnervingly peaceful. Whispers begin to circulate that people are being replaced. Lena dismisses it--at first. When a man well known to her, an anarchist, seems to make an abrupt 360 degree turn in his politics, though, she becomes seriously alarmed. Nigel, her older brother, a tech for a genetics lab, dismisses her concerns and Lena is almost convinced--until she comes face to face with the assassin sent to silence her. Imprisoned, the handsome, golden haired rebel known as Dax, may be Lena's only hope of salvation, but can she trust that his agenda is the same as her own? For if someone is replacing people with controllable replicas of themselves, how can one ever be sure that anyone is who you think they are? Rating: Graphic violence, graphic sex, explicit language, and profanity.
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2006
eBookwise Release Date: April 2006
295 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [247 KB]
Reading time: 174-244 min.
"Give us the names of the others."
Lena Silverstone managed to pry her eyelids up a fraction of an inch. It didn't help much. The room she found herself in was dim and completely unfamiliar. Shadows moved about it, but she wasn't certain whether the shadows were people or just shadows. Frowning in concentration as she tried to focus her blurring vision, she turned the demand over in her mind, trying to figure out what he was talking about, where she was, and why she was in this unfamiliar place.
Someone grabbed her by her hair, jerking her head back until the base of her skull cracked against something hard and metallic--the back of the seat she was strapped to, her mind supplied. She winced as the blow and the tugging at her scalp sent pain through her nerve endings.
"Names! Give us some names!" the command came again.
Her thoughts were disjointed but finally a fact emerged. She'd been drugged. It wasn't just her vision that was out of focus. Her mind wandered drunkenly from one thing to another. Her tongue and lips felt swollen and numb. "Uders?" she finally managed to emit the sounds though they were slurred, as if she'd had one shot too many of hard liquor.
The words were terse, almost violent. Despite the drug, her heart gave a little leap of fear. "Doan know," she muttered after several aborted attempts, too confused to figure out what they were talking about.
The man holding her hair slammed her head into the chair back again and released his grip abruptly. The pain that hadn't even subsided exploded into harder, pulsating waves. When the man released her, Lena's head fell forward. It felt too heavy for her neck to support it.
"What do you think?"
"I think we gave her too much," responded another voice.
The new voice penetrated Lena's half stupor. She rolled her head to one side and struggled to focus her vision and her attention, knowing instinctively that the conversation was of utmost importance to her.
"Or maybe not enough? She's a stubborn bitch."
"Don't be stupid. If we kill her now we won't get anything out of her. Look at her. She hardly knows where she is."
"Maybe she really doesn't know anything?" the first man said slowly.
"Get your mind off your dick."
There was a mixture of amusement and anger in the single word question that captured Lena's attention. Dimly, she realized there was an underlying threat in the direction the conversation had taken. She just wasn't entirely sure of what that was.
"We've only just started questioning her. Until we get what we can from her, or know for sure that she doesn't have anything to give us, they won't be handing her over to you."
"I could break her," the first man offered.
A shiver traveled through Lena then and she suddenly knew what he was talking about with crystal clarity, partly because she'd finally managed to get a good enough look at the man to see his expression. He had the look of a thug--close set eyes, a hardness about his features that said he knew all about cruelty and he enjoyed it. He was dark, hairy, and built like a gorilla. The other man was lean, more of an academic type. She figured he must be there to make sure the interrogation didn't go too far.
There was a light in the ceiling above the chair she was strapped to. It acted like a spotlight, throwing a ring of light around her and leaving the perimeter of the room in dimness, but she could see that the room was little more than a cubicle and the walls, floor and ceiling were made of materials to deaden sound.
That realization sent another shiver through her.
"Just take her back to her cell for now. Next time I'll give her a smaller dose."
The gorilla man was angry when he unstrapped her restraints. He slapped her hard enough it rattled her teeth. "Wake up, little bird. Time to go back to your cage."
Lena struggled to get up before he slapped her again. He didn't wait for her to manage it, however. Grabbing one arm, he dragged her out of the chair. Her legs felt like limp noodles. She couldn't seem to lock her knees or manage even a wobbling step. Ignoring her difficulties, he dragged her when she sprawled on the floor. The icy cold steel tiles sent a jolt through her, reviving her slightly. When he paused at the door, she struggled to get to her feet. The man shifted his grip, wrapping one hard arm around her chest, just beneath her breasts. She managed a half a dozen steps before he began dragging her again down an impossibly long, wavering corridor than seemed to undulate like rolling breakers.
Doors opened off the vein sporadically, but all of them were closed and Lena was in no condition in any case to figure out what the rooms might be for. They paused again at a set of double doors when they reached the end of the corridor. Seconds later, the doors slid silently open, revealing another cubicle very little smaller than the one they'd just left. Dragging her inside, the man released her, allowing her to slump to the floor, and punched a glowing button. The doors slid shut and the sensation of rapid movement that followed made Lena's head swim even worse.
Settling with a sharp jolt, the doors opened again. This time the man hauled her to her feet and slung her over his shoulder. She thought for several moments she might be ill as her head swam sickeningly. She fought the nausea, partly because she wasn't certain she could stop if she got started and partly because she figured he would react violently to having her puke down his back.
She gave up on trying to see anything, squeezing her eyes closed to help battle the dizziness. Around her, she heard whispers--the voices of both men and women--but she could only catch a word here and there and the whispers told her nothing more than the fact that there were other people nearby. She opened her eyes when the man halted at last and managed to get a quick glimpse of the area around her as she was set on her feet. The next moment, she was shoved through a narrow door. The door slammed closed and she found herself in yet another tiny cubicle. This one contained two bunks stacked one on top of the other. The woman sprawled on the bottom bunk eyed her with hostility. Her attitude was plainly territorial, and Lena looked up at the top bunk a little hopelessly.
It took some maneuvering but she finally managed to hoist herself up onto the bunk and collapsed. Her head was still swimming. She closed her eyes, gripping the hard mattress on either side of her. After a while, the nausea eased off. The disorientation from the drug didn't abate appreciably. She found herself struggling to make sense of her disjointed thoughts, going back over and over to the questions that had been bellowed at her and the argument between the two men.
The men had been wearing uniforms of some sort, she finally realized.
She was in an institution of some kind. Mental hospital? Prison?
The drugs seemed to indicate a mental hospital, but everything else that she could recall seemed to contradict that. Why would they interrogate a mental patient?
For that matter, why would they interrogate a prisoner? Presumably, one did not end up in prison until one had been tried and convicted for a crime.
The word crime prompted a sickening flood of memories.
She was in prison.
She'd been sentenced to life--for killing herself.