Everything goes according to the Plan, until a traitor reveals the truth about Toch, putting the future of their entire race in danger . . .
Windsor Harries was born and raised in Toronto, Canada in the heady years between TV's heyday and the internet revolution. He has been writing ever since he can remember. His early influences include Edgar Rice Burroughs and Doctor Who (Tom Baker, of course). For his mild-mannered secret identity, he works as a marketer in the financial services industry. He had written numerous books, but Prime is his first published novel.
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“You’re oversimplifying the situation. If brute power can do it, why hasn’t it worked in the past?”
“Has there ever been an uprising? A revolt? Even an innocuous demonstration?” Tomaz waited for Petr to reply, but the latter was looking down, adjusting the cuffs of his tunic and not wanting to concede the point. Tomaz continued with a triumphant tone. “Exactly! And why not? Because everyone is waiting for the Plan, for the Prime to be born and save us all—like the very hand of God itself.” Petr still refused to look Tomaz in the eye. “I’ve got news for you—war doesn’t work that way. We need to think of this as exactly that: a war. No one, no Prime, will save us from the Spidon—it’s up to us. If this child does have some power, we need to use it strategically. But that can’t be the only tactic we count on.”
Petr, satisfied his cuff was intact, unconsciously looked up to the evening sky where, through a gap in the rubble, he had a clear view of the ship that hung perpetually in the skies over their planet. The ship that represented everything that was wrong with their civilization. Seeing it there, he regained some of his passion.
“What other tactics do we have?” he demanded. “We have no warriors, we have no Protectors or Defenders. We have people of the mind—mostly Technologists—who can’t fight. And they certainly can’t fight against the very weapons we designed for the Spidon, who forced us to build them so they could rule over much stronger races than ours. We wouldn’t stand a chance against our own devices. We have literally built our own jail, and now you’re trying to take away our only possible key to open the door.”
“You underestimate your own people. And I think you’ve started believing your own propaganda.” Tomaz smiled. “You’re buying into the fictions you’ve created, the stories of the Prime.”
“I haven’t created anything, and these aren’t fictions. The Plan is truth.”
“Really? You think this Prime is it? You trust the Geneticists so blindly?”
Petr was shocked at the treason in Tomaz’s words. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because the child you believe is the Prime has so far demonstrated no evidence of the Defender gene. You know there is usually at least some evidence, long before maturity. This boy hasn’t shown any.”
“Perhaps you aren’t familiar with every detail of the Plan,” Petr proposed, averting his eyes from Tomaz at the last moment.