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Z14 is a fast-paced, tongue-in-cheek science-fiction story, that’s heavy on the fiction, and, let’s say ‘easy’ on the science.
Z14 is a cyborg, he’s a killer and he’s a collector of cuddly toys. He’s at the top of the food chain on the planet Deliverance. Nobody can touch him, and, if they did, he’d just regenerate anyway. He whiles away his time assassinating humans and trying to figure out why a mysterious space fleet brought millions of colonists here, generations ago.
Killing humans. It’s wrong. He knows that. But it just feels right, somehow, almost like he was made to do it – and it pays really well. But Z14’s days of strutting around like he owns the place might just be numbered. When a ship from that mysterious fleet just happens to turn up, and a big, squishy clue falls on Z14’s doorstep, he starts getting some answers. He also finds himself facing the unknown. Things the humans call ‘challenges’, and, worse than that, ‘empathy’.
On a planet where the law is set by the lawless and morals weren't part of the colonial supplies, an unstoppable cyborg assassin could be an unexpected force for good. Or, if not a force for good, then at least a hindrance to evil.
When it looks like only Z14 can save humanity , they’ll just have to hope he decides he wants to
presumed was so that one couldn’t get ahead of the other, causing the chariot contraption to just turn in circles. The mattresses from two more beds lay next to the as-of-yet unmoved Kaboom. I had to allow a smile – smashed face and all – not just because I wanted to, but to show them I was pleased that they’d been so industrious in my absence, just in case I hadn’t come back, or hadn’t sourced a vehicle. “Well, there’ll be no need for that heap of shit you’ve built,” I said. “Let’s get
“You’ve fought the Warden off again, Zed,” said Melon. “Another step in mastering yourself.” “Tell me about my son,” I said. And then, “Oh, and how is Oxley?” “He’ll live, it’s probably just bruising. You hardly touched the pussy,” said Lothar. “Good. Sorry Ox,” I said. “Melon, if this story ends in you telling me you’re my son, I’ll kill you for being so fucking obvious, okay?” “That would be more than fair,” said Melon. Kam and Lothar nodded as they hauled Oxley up to his feet. He was
I tucked my head back in and carried on my conversation with Classic Melon. “Since you Melons are so useless, I’d like to use Third Melon to host Kaboom’s personality,” I said. “I want to talk to him about a scheme to demolish part of the castle.” Initially none of the Melons said anything, although I presumed they were debating my “request” on their private network. “Ah,” said New Melon at last. “We don’t see the point in that, and, with you having destroyed our backup personality storage,
into Kon Ramar business and mess with their tech, but the Boram family, rulers of a backwater pile of shit planet being able to interact with advanced alien technology is not in the least bit credible.” “You’re right,” said Melon. “The logs show that the ship decided to reveal itself to the planetary authorities. Doing so was actually part of the theme of the Kon Ramar experiment for this planet’s colonisation and growth, not that I can begin to fathom what they were up to – and not that it
weight?” I gestured at the alien. “Technically, no, bu – ” I deliberately played my son’s last words to the original me in my head, as I tightened my fingers ever harder around the alien’s neck. It was like increasing the pressure on a pencil between your fingers before it suddenly snaps. The alien died instantly. I let go and kicked his corpse off of the light-raft. “Zed!” cried Melon. “What?” I said. “You said we should show the Kon Ramar that we could be their equals. I make that: Kon