Coggler's Brood (Work in Progress)

Chapter 1

A blood soaked hand reaches towards me. 'Nina, thank goodness I found you.'

A moment ago, standing together in the New Frisco plaza, the cold wind of the aerial city whipping around us, I reached up to kiss Jack's tender lips, when a heavy weight crashed into us—Trent. Now, all three of us are prone on the ground in a side alley where we landed in a heap.

Blood is plastered across Trent's richly embroidered gold waistcoat. Pulling aside the buttons of his black frock-coat, I find the source of the blood: a wound in his stomach rhythmically pumping blood.

Trent is an old acquaintance. Once, I would have called him a friend, but that was before he betrayed me and stole by beautiful, but slightly decrepit, airship, the Shonti Bloom. He is also a spy for the Microtough corporation, the faction than runs Newtonsteign, the most powerful city in the skies. His name probably isn't even Trent.

Quickly, because I can see the seriousness of the wound, I tear away a wide strip from the tail of my shirt and press it against Trent's stomach. 'Hold this here, it will help staunch the blood.'

I turn to Jack, a Cadet officer in the New Frisco Beats and my secret lover. "Jack, we have to get Trent to a doctor."

But Jack, now back on his feet, is pointing his pistol at Trent. "Where is Nina's airship, you rogue?"

Trust Jack to go into law officer mode. "Trent is wounded," I emphasise each word. "We have to help him."

With an obvious effort, Trent raises himself on one elbow. "Never mind that, Nina. Take this." He thrusts a small package, wrapped in brown paper, into my tunic—managing to ruin my best Pilot's Guild uniform in the process. 'Take it to a Reaver named Papa Doyle, he'll know what to do with it. Papa Doyle - got that?"

I nod, eager to get his rant over with so I can take him to a doctor. The dreaded word 'Reaver' reverberates round my brain.

"Repeat it to me!" Trent orders.

"Take the package to Papa Doyle," I repeat wearily. "But not before we've got you to a doctor." I try to raise Trent to his feet.

"The 'Man' will help you."

I nearly drop Trent in surprise. "Not the man? Not Stan Wallingham-"

"-It's very important, Nina. Don't let her do it again."

I don't need to ask who he's referring to: he means my mother, the deranged leader of the Gaia Foundation, a cult dedicated to the preservation of a natural earth, by any means. She is the reason my left hand is enclosed in a delicate exoskeleton of brass pistons, replacing the tendons she severed the last time we met. My darling mother loves my genes so much she would dearly like me to join her foundation—she doesn't much care if I arrive dead or alive.

Long ago, the Gaia Foundation genetically engineered a small number of people to live in cities in the clouds, before releasing a deadly virus to wipe out the rest: the billions of humans that populating the surface of the earth. My mother, through her terrorist organisation, the Daughters of Gaia, continues that grisly work by destroying any sign of industrial progress. Now, according to Trent, she is planning another atrocity.

Technically, I am not even my mother's daughter—I am her clone. Her genes give me the capacity to become just as psychotic as she. It's all there, lurking in my mind and my personality waiting to break out: the shockingly single-minded focus, the disdain for human life, the obsession with a cause, the ability to sacrifice others for the greater good—everything my mother is and I will become. Which means I'm a monster—just like her.

I try always to take the opposite action to what I think she would choose, but I'm not sure that helps much.

Bang.