Paradigm Shift

PARADIGM SHIFT

HARPER KINGSLEY

PARADIGM SHIFT

Copyright © 2017 Harper Kingsley

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author.

CHAPTER ONE

The State had instituted mandatory blood testing. Gregor had known it would happen sooner or later, but he'd let himself believe it was going to be more later. Yet here it was, staring out at him from his news feed.

Dread pooled in his belly. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind that he was going to be busted. After twenty-eight years of playing Two, he was about to be outed as a Third. The idea horrified him.

Whatcha staring at?

Gregor nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden hand on his shoulder. He whirled around to find his friend Marcus grinning at him, his teeth very white against his dark skin. Geez, Marcus, way to give me a heart attack.

Marcus chuckled. He'd just come from work and Gregor could see the collar of his beige uniform peeking through the neck of his heavy coat. Way to be dramatic. Seriously, what are you looking at?

Gregor pointed at the notice on his ePad screen. They're forcing everyone to go to the Public Health Stations and give blood. They want to find any unregistered Thirds.

Good, Marcus said. They shouldn't be out on the loose, because what if something happens? We could be facing extinction. There's no room for obstinacy. We need them too much.

You don't think it's wrong to force them to breed? Gregor could feel a cold sweat breaking over his body. He would have thought Marcus would understand, but it looked as though he was wrong. It justified his decision to keep his status secret. They're not being given any choice.

It does feel a bit exploitative, Marcus said, but we need them or we could be looking at the end of the human race. They're the only ones able to bear young. And it's not like they're being tortured or anything. They are allowed to pick the First they're going to breed with.

It's awful. They're being made to have sex whether they want to or not. It's sick. Gregor's hands had curled into fists so he tucked them in his jacket pockets.

It's unfortunate that in vitro fertilization doesn't work with Thirds. I wish things could be different. Marcus sounded genuinely sympathetic. But as it is right now, our species must do everything it can to survive.

Gregor felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't face what was going to happen to him without some fortification. If he was going to lose his freedom, he might as well have something to miss.

Come on. He grabbed Marcus' muscular arm. Let's go get cleaned up. We're going out tonight.

Marcus' grin was weak, but Gregor wasn't in the mood for weakness. Come on, he pleaded, even going so far as to flutter his lashes and make himself as attractive as possible.

It was easy to hustle Marcus to his own apartment. Maybe it was the rebellious part of him looking for one last hurrah! before he was locked away in a bower somewhere.

* * *

Facing an uprising wasn't something anyone looked forward to, which was why he had been sent in now rather than waiting for there to be a problem. He hadn't objected to being air-dropped behind enemy lines with a squad of Primes as backup. His only issue was having their LZ turn out to be some kind of swampy bog.

There was mud slopping inside their boots, but there was no time to stop and clean themselves up. Their mission was to hit hard and fast, and to let nothing get in their way.

Dylan moved at speed, hurdling a low wall with the trust that the minefield on the other side had been disabled by the scouts and Tech Division. If they hadn't done their jobs, he figured he wouldn't have time to worry about it anyway. There wouldn't be enough of him left to deliver to his Family.

The startled face of an enemy guard barely had a chance to flash across his field of vision before there was a burst of red and he was through the perimeter.

His gun was a comforting weight in his left hand and his dadao was in his right. The kata forms flowed across his brain and out through his limbs so quickly that it was more instinct and training running his body than conscious thought. There was no time for hesitation when there was a mission.

He was an instrument of destruction, cutting a swath through those that attempted to stand against him. There were others behind him more able to deal with prisoners. He killed anyone that got in his way, either with a neat hole drilled through the eye or a slash of his sword that removed heads and limbs as though their body armor didn't even exist.

There was no talking between him and his team. They were all veterans, and even though they'd never been paired together they knew what they were about: death to the enemies of the State.

Dylan followed his instincts and the orders he'd been given: infiltrate the facility. Kill everyone on the target list. Destroy everything.

There was an odd physical delight in pushing his body to faster speeds, spinning and ducking, cleaving through bodies, severing arms and legs, whirling around one enemy to decapitate the one behind while the Primes following him shot their own guns and bloodied their own blades. He could hear his heart beating and his breath came in steady puffs, the world around him brought to startling focus as he killed his way through the facility.

It was exhilarating.

Afterward, when the follow up crews had arrived and set up their perimeter, he briskly ordered that all data be gathered and explosives set at key points, enough to completely destroy everything. There were to be no traces of the compound remaining. That was the will of the State.

He wiped the blade of his dadao clean with a rag and made for his squad's van. He trusted that the clean up would be handled with professional skill by the back up team, and he would watch it happen from climate-controlled comfort. His people had done their part. They were allowed to relax a little.

Dylan climbed into the second row seating and scrounged a bottle of water from the cooler. He twisted the cap off and drained half in one pull, getting rid of the dryness in his throat.

There was always a bit of a let down once the action was over and his body would remind him that he was merely human with hunger and thirst and weary muscles in his arms and legs.

The front passenger-side door opened and his Second scooted across the seat, her helmet cradled on her lap. Can I get one of those granola bar things? she asked.

I don't know, can you? Dylan dug into the storage space beneath his seat and took out two large granola bars. He tossed one forward to Miri before tearing the foil wrapper on his own.

He bit into the lightly sweetened granola studded with carob and dried cranberries and felt himself relax from his state of high alert. How long until they've got this all wrapped up?

Miri shrugged. Carsten was talking another half hour.

That's not so bad. Dylan ate his granola bar and sipped his water, already thinking about a hot shower and a real meal once he got back to base.

He watched the other team through the van's window, secure that his subordinates were keeping a close eye on things so he didn't have to. He still had reports to write before he'd be allowed to call it a night. He'd let himself rest a few minutes longer before he started filling out the forms for his AAR. Command would want them logged before morning.

* * *

A lifetime of secrets ending, he didn't know how to deal with himself. But he was afraid, very afraid.

Gregor held his coat tight across his chest as he stood in line with all the other T-Vs waiting for their blood tests. It was a quiet crowd, one that had been waiting long hours in the cold, and most everyone just wanted to get it over with and head home.

Most likely he was the only one hoping his turn would never come. He would happily stay in line until he died if it meant never being discovered.

Ooh, coffee, the woman ahead of him murmured to her companion. I'm freezing.

Gregor craned to see, and sure enough there were people moving through the lines pushing carts of coffee. No one wanted a potential Third unhappy, and until it was proven otherwise, everyone here was treated as though they could be the holiest of holies.

When one of the carts reached his position, Gregor took a disposable cup with a heartfelt, Thank you.

He sipped the coffee, wishing for milk and sugar, but grateful for something hot to hold in his hands. He had been waiting for what seemed like a small eternity with dread growing in his stomach. Fear of discovery had evolved from a nagging reminder to something much deeper.

Idly, he wondered what they would do to him. Would he be hailed as some kind of precious find, or would he find himself locked in some bower servicing Firsts until he produced enough children for the State? The uncertainty was what bothered him the most.

The line jerked forward and he went with it, coming closer to the doors and the doom awaiting him within.

Gregor raised his cup to his mouth, sipping at the bitter coffee. The taste steadied him somehow.

The sudden warmth of the building's interior made him fight a flinch. His legs ached from standing for so long, but he knew there was no recourse for it. The building was only big enough to hold a certain amount of people and the appointments all overlapped. If he tried to hang back, he could end up missing his slot and would receive a Public Sanction. He already had two on his record and he couldn't afford to pay the fines a third one would cost him.

He followed the line forward until he found himself in front of a nurse with a scanning tool. His throat acquired a hard knot and he watched as a woman received a prick on the finger and several red drops were dripped onto a white cardboard disk that was examined with the scanner, which gave a cheerful busy sound as it worked.

Gregor looked around as casually as he could manage and knew that he wasn't going to be escaping, not with the dozen or so members of Security in his vicinity alone. He would give his blood and be exposed. There was nothing else for it but to act with dignity.

The woman walked toward the exit and the line drew forward until Gregor was next. He could feel himself sweating under his winter coat, but it was a cold sweat. His hands had clenched into fists, but he couldn't make them uncurl. He could barely keep his teeth from chattering and he could feel the adrenaline he'd been battling all day increasing until all he could hear was his heart thrumming hummingbird fast and the voices of the people around him were just a confusing murmur of sound.

When the nurse spoke to him, he saw her lips move, but there was no meaning behind it. He let her guide him by the arm to stand in front of her machine. He felt the tug of the blood being taken, just a quick sting and only a few drops. And yet his fate was sealed.

He saw it on the nurse's face when her machine made a new noise and she gave him such a look of awe that he could feel his blood pressure plunging. There was the rushing sound of the ocean in his ears and a copper taste in his mouth.

His knees folded and Gregor dropped, unconscious before he even hit the floor.

CHAPTER TWO

Barely home a day and already sent out again, this time for a domestic reason, but just as important. He left his accustomed body armor behind and wore a soberly professional suit, his rank tabs pinned to his collar.

So why have I been called out? he asked the Attache sharing the back of the car with him.

Her smile was a wide stretch of lips painted vivid red, complementing her raptor's eyes. He thought he caught a whiff of old blood lingering on her skin. Your Family has shown much interest in acquiring another Third. As a mark of Command's favor, you've been offered first crack at the Third discovered through the latest blood draw. You should say thank you.

Thank you, he drawled, settling his hands on his knees. He'd known he'd done good work with that last mission, but he hadn't expected to have a Third handed over to his Family. The State must be pleased with him to give him preliminary Courting options. Grandfather would be happy.

This is my stop, she said. The car slowed and she stepped out before it had fully halted, slamming the door behind her.

Dylan amused himself with the image of her tumbling off the sidewalk and under the wheels of the large truck following behind them. It was an unkind wish, but he'd dealt with the Attache before and she was nothing but a mad dog. When she was let off the leash she barely differentiated friend from foe; it made him wary of her.

He picked up the case she'd left him and settled back into the seat to read. He had received a Third as a reward, he might as well find out what he could about—

Dylan opened the file and looked at the picture of the dark haired young man. A handsome face that might have looked cold if it wasn't for the sly slant of his brows, the hint of laughter curling his lips. Staring out of the picture was a pair of expressive brown eyes, mesmerizing against the man's rich olive-toned skin.

—Gregor Tierney.

* * *

Waking up took a lot out of him. He opened heavy-lidded eyes and it took so much effort that he just lay there afterward, exhausted. He listened to the world around him while he acclimated to his surroundings. From the sounds and a glance around the room he was in, Gregor assumed he was in a very expensive hospital, the kind of place he wouldn't have been allowed to even walk past before.

Except now he was a Third, destined to have so much more than he had ever deserved or even wanted. It made him afraid. Nothing came for free.

There was the sound of the door opening and footsteps approaching from an angle he couldn't see. He would have preferred that his bed face the door; it would have made him feel more secure. As it was, he had to wait until his visitor stepped into view before he knew what was happening.

Ah, I see that you are awake. Good. It was a dark haired woman in a white lab coat buttoned all the way to the top and serious pumps on her feet. The smile she gave him seemed completely alien to her face, but there was obvious sincerity behind it. I am Doctor Elizabeth Czernada. It is very good to meet you.

Gregor licked lips that felt impossibly dry and had to cough before he could speak. I am Gregor Tierney, Citizen G9375-41-8344.

She waved it away with her hand. We don't need any of that. We know who you are. We are simply very happy to have found you.

Really, Gregor said. He held the blankets tightly with both fists; if he didn't hold on he felt as though he would float away. He wondered if they'd hit him with some Calm while he was passed out. Unpermitted drugging seemed like something a doctor of Czernada's caliber would do.

He didn't let anything show on his face, but he'd recognized the name, though she was filed in his mental banks under her nickname, The Butcher of Clavell. She'd been there during the Reclamation Movement's last stand and had experimented on the bodies of the prisoners.

Just being in the same room with her made his skin creep. He wanted to clamp his legs tight together, which was ridiculous; it wouldn't protect him. She would use her scalpels to cut him from breastbone to the soft dip beneath his belly button and scoop out his insides. She would dissect his organs while he was still alive, then she would monitor his brain's responses while he screamed.

When she stepped closer to the bed, he couldn't help cringing away. He didn't want those devil hands to touch him.

Is there something wrong, Blessed Tierney? she asked.

He nearly winced at the sound of the formal title coming out of her mouth. Can I… He paused for a breath and tried to keep his voice level. Can I please have a different doctor? Preferably male? He threw in that last to give a reason for his preference other than the truth, that he was absolutely terrified of her.

Dr. Czernada gave him a surprised look. Oh, oh yes, of course, she sounded as though her feelings had been hurt. She turned toward the door. I will get you a male doctor.

Good, thank you. Gregor pulled his blankets closer around himself. I will be waiting here.

The minute she left the room, he started thinking furiously about what he was going to do. There weren't a lot of options.

He was a Third and that had already been registered to his identity. He'd heard of people getting fake IDs, but it was expensive and required connections that he didn't have. He didn't have the resources to start a new life.

Gregor was well and truly caught and there was nothing he could do about it. He would have to deal with his new life the best that he could. So what recourse did he have?

He'd never been able to pull off the wide-eyed ingenue, but he hated playing the part of the tough guy. Still, he had to play at being just dumb enough that they would give him leniency for the hormone suppressant use. That was a Class C felony and could see him doing some serious prison time. He would be an old man by the time he breathed free air again.

He didn't try to practice, knowing there were cameras in the room and the footage would be checked in the course of the case against him. But he visualized the person he wanted to become and stared unblinking at the blankets across his chest.

Gregor Tierney needed to be a somewhat relaxed but at the same time shy individual. He needed to be a bit of a follower, enough to break the more minor laws of Society, but not enough to get too serious. He had a conscience. There were some laws he would not break.

Taking suppressants was something he had been led into, as was hiding as a Two. He felt bad about his father's soon to be tarnished reputation, but the man had always liked a cruel joke or twelve. Being the one to lead him down the road of sin would have made Desmond Tierney give that barking laugh he'd made famous in their social circle.

Gregor sat up and folded the blankets down across his lap. He smoothed his hands over his hair, making it lay down straight. Gregor Tierney was the kind of man that cared about his appearance to the point of concern. It was the kind of thing the Mental Health Bureau of Medical loved because it wasn't a completely incurable problem. They would think he was fixable, which assured him more of a chance at a free life.

He'd spent his whole life dreaming of being free and it wasn't something he was going to give up. They could lock him away and force him to breed, but he would make the best of what he was given. There was no time for bitterness if he didn't want to end up in Stricture.

Gregor found his center and waited with outward patience until the door opened again and a whole group of people appeared in his field of vision. He felt the pinching sensation of a nervous need to urinate, but he ignored it.

Blessed Tierney, the man in the white lab coat said, I am Dr. Samuel Haden. I understand that you prefer a male physician?

Gregor bobbed a nod. I'm sorry I'm being so much trouble, but I don't think I could have stood having her handle my care.

I understand. It's a common affliction, the doctor said, approaching the