Viola Grace Read online

  Is the end of one life the start of the next? It is if you have been reset.

  Elizabeth has spent her life exploring the world, visiting strangers, and learning all the customs she could. When the first Volunteer Project began, she had been in her fifties and out of the running. Now, at eighty-two, they offer to tune her up and send her to the stars. What world traveller could resist?

  She becomes taller, stronger, but her sense of humour remains the same. Her assignment is to collect memories from alien ancients who have been gathered on one world as a disconnected think tank. She needs to get them together, one at a time.

  She begins her journey there as a novice monk and works her way up to master. She deals with the indifferent man who greeted her and prepares to be charming with the other ancients until one goes too far, and she shows him what she is made of. Her mind is not his playground, and she has a strong right hook.

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  Ancient Thought

  Copyright © 2021 Viola Grace

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-3225-6

  Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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  Ancient Thought

  Terran Reset Book 3

  By

  Viola Grace

  Chapter One

  Elizabeth Montcross entered the embassy, and the conversations came to a halt. She rapped her cane against the polished stone. “I have been invited by Minerva-Gaia. Would one of you be so kind as to notify her that Libby Montcross is here?”

  She looked around, and the woman with brown hair and green eyes that somehow looked like the colour of every leaf in the forest at the same time. The woman looked young, but the age in her eyes was infinite. “Ah, Ms. Montcross, please, come this way. I have had tea laid in in the sitting room.”

  “Delightful. I have only had three cups today.” She smiled brightly.

  Minerva laughed. “Sorry. It is a default setting. May I say, you are very spry for an octogenarian.”

  “Ah, miss. You do say the sweetest things. Walking keeps me moving; moving keeps me alive. If I stand still, everything starts to lock together. I am collapsing into my own bones.” She chuckled.

  The young woman with the old eyes escorted her to a bright room with a tea tray and teapot waiting.

  The young woman poured and looked at the sugar. “Would you care for some?”

  “Four.” Libby smiled. “At this point, it isn’t sugar in my tea that is going to kill me. It is falling asleep two inches off my normal pillow that is probably going to do me in.”

  Libby took the teacup and sipped the sweet brew. “Very nice.”

  “That tea is grown on a mountainside on a planet with two suns and five moons. There is a monastery where folks spend their time in peaceful contemplation and focus on connecting to the minds of others and record the great moments in history.”

  Libby paused. “History?”

  Minerva sipped at her tea. “Indeed. There is a world in their system filled with ancient beings who have lived on hundreds of worlds for thousands of years. They know about the development of species and the most ancient of rituals. For a human, it would be an archaeologist’s dream.”

  Libby smiled. “It was my dream. Well, thirty years ago, when I applied to the Volunteer Project. I was too old even then. Now, I would be a sad cautionary tale.”

  “What if I told you that you weren’t too old?” Minerva set aside her teacup with a click.

  “I would think you were trying to kill me. The gravitational force on someone like me during launch would turn me into paste.”

  “We have gel beds that would support you. You might break a rib or two, but they would take it easy on you.”

  “So, launching me into space for a year seems feasible for you?”

  Minerva picked up her tea. “We have a project planned to reset a few humans back to their optimal physical condition, based on their existing genes and some extras that might make you a little more sturdy.”

  “What kind of extras?” Libby sipped at her tea.

  “Oh, just genes to make you taller, stronger, possibly glow in the dark under the right circumstances. You can pick your eye colour, your hair colour, your physique. Name it, and the alteration can be made.”

  “I would like dark blue hair. I would like to keep my eyes the way they were. I would like to be six feet tall. I have always wanted to be as big as I feel.” She laughed. The thought of turning into a blue-haired marauder appealed to her.

  Minerva set her teacup down and refilled it. “Would you be upset if you were taller? The living archives strive for a certain unity of appearance.”

  “Living archives? That is an actual job description?”

  “It is more like a calling. You will learn how to meditate and coax the history out of the ancients. Some of them are rather fussy about being approached, and these are techniques that you would have to know.”

  Libby tilted her head and smiled. “Is it really worth all this fuss for a little information?”

  Minerva smiled. “You don’t understand. We aren’t talking about years or decades; they live thousands of years in some cases. Imagine what you could see with three thousand years of human history in front of you.”

  “In some cases, it would only be lifetimes of trees and rainfall. In others, you could see the evolution of civilization.”

  “Precisely, history depends on where you are sitting. These beings were sitting in the middle of species development. They have seen it all.”

  “Don’t tease. I am drooling.” Libby checked. “Nope. My bad. Not a stroke.”

  “How is it that your mind is so sharp?”

  Libby finished her tea. “I come from a long line of long-lived grouchy women who married late. I outlived my memorable husband of five years and decided that marriage was an experience best engaged in once only. In my day, you couldn’t do squat until you had gotten married, and then, you were tied to him until he passed on. I was lucky that I knew how to work a bank account and read a financial statement. My father raised a very pretty son with an excellent head on her shoulders.” She smiled. “He was a good man who raised an odd daughter in any way she asked.”

  “How much of your life do you remember?”

  Libby chuckled. “I have what is referred to as an eidetic memory. It used to be a photographic memory or total recall. When prompted, I can recall almost all dates and times of events. It is like looking for a firework and then filling in the space around it and down to the ground. If I saw it, I can take it all in.”

  “Excellent. So, are you interested in entering a contract and heading to the stars?”

  Libby thought
about it. “Let’s see. Most of my friends are dead. I spend my weekdays going to funerals with occasional trips out for coffee in between. Basically, I spend a lot of time in the restroom disposing of coffee or tea. Sure. Yes. I will take the chance. Even if I break on the way, it will be an adventure, and I am always looking for more to learn.”

  “You don’t worry about death?”

  Libby laughed. “Oh, honey. He is next to me each and every day. Death hangs over my shoulder and reads the news with me. I am not afraid of it. When it is my time, it’s my time.” She snickered. “That said, if he comes at me in the shower, he is going to get his butt kicked. There are times a lady needs her privacy.”

  Minerva chuckled. She got up and pressed a kiss to the middle of Libby’s forehead. “You are a treasure, daughter.”

  Libby muttered, “The forehead is fine, and I am open-minded, but I am a little beyond being that open-minded.”

  Minerva’s eyes were glowing and swirling green. “You have more flexibility in you than you think, daughter. But I was not hitting on you.”

  “There are two people in there.”

  “There is one person and then the soul of the world you walk on. Yes.”

  Libby sighed. “All my years and I am meeting you now?”

  “I woke twenty-five years ago and bound with Minerva. With her mate, we have a daughter, and this is one moment in time that I am treasuring.”

  “A daughter?”

  “Indeed. She is on the Lunar Base, and she spurred the Reset Project. Minerva had it planned, but Alyla is the one who is excited by it. Minerva’s mate will be delivering you to the monastery. If you wake early, know that Imbolt is far more frightening than he seems, but he would enjoy nothing more than spending time with his family. He is delivering the subjects of the Reset Project to prove their worth. But, if you do see him, do not try to draw out his memories after you leave the tank. His mind is attached to that of a dying star, and you do not want to drop down that particular black hole.”

  “Thank you. Good tip.” Libby chuckled at the thought and imagined that she was in a hospital bed somewhere having an end-of-life fantasy. Nah. Her fantasies didn’t involve tea. It was coffee and ham sandwiches all the way.

  Minerva’s eyes resumed a more normal colouring. She pulled out a tablet and handed it over.

  Libby flicked through it, and Minerva commented. “You are very good with tech.”

  “Thank you. My godson’s daughter insists on keeping me apprised of how to use modern technology. She’s a drill instructor when it comes to making me set the clock on my microwave. If there is a flashing number on any of my appliances, she makes me watch a horror movie.” She chuckled as she went through the clauses that indemnified the Alliance against any blame, and the Nyal Imperium took full custody of her person with specific training in the archival arts.

  Libby paused and snorted. “What is this clause?”

  “Which clause?”

  “The citizenship clause for any offspring. I hate to say it, but that ship has sailed and gone down with the Titanic. And then been hit by missile fire.”

  Minerva smiled at her. “You are being reset and then enhanced. All of your biological systems will be working at peak efficiency.”

  Libby signed the document and dated it, setting her thumbprint in the signature block.

  Minerva grinned. “Great. You have two days to settle your affairs unless you need more time.”

  Libby snorted. “Honey, I am eighty-two. My affairs are settled before I cross the street. I just need to make a few calls and activate my living will.”

  “Excellent. Shall we collect you tomorrow?”

  “Please. Now, where is the restroom? That tea is going right through me.”

  Minerva helped her to her feet and guided her out the door.

  Libby finished up in the restroom and headed out with a business card in her pocket. She had a few calls to make.

  Chapter Two

  The trip up to the Lunar Base was intensely uncomfortable, even with the sedative, the gel bed, and the breathing mask, but it had been spectacular.

  The pressure broke two ribs and cracked her pelvis. She was helped through medical, and one of the attendants kept looking at her chest.

  She wheezed as she laughed. “What is it? Haven’t you ever seen anyone wearing them vertically before? Horizontal is for snobs.”

  The medic on her right laughed out loud, and the younger one looked confused.

  They helped her up the steps and settled her as they spent their time with scanners looking for a vein.

  “If it helps, I can chug a bottle of water.”

  The medic gave the order in a different language, and someone came in with a container of water. Sitting naked in a roomful of strangers was amusing rather than embarrassing. She took the bottle handed to her and slammed it back. “Give it a few minutes. See if you can find any obvious ones.”

  He chuckled and inserted her catheter. She made a face. “Charming. I thought you were the nice one.”

  The water soon did its work, and her veins inflated enough to get the lines in. Once she was wired and the sedative they shot into her arm had been administered, it was time to drop into the tank. Minerva had explained it, and Alyla had explained it again. She needed to drop in and start breathing. With the broken ribs, it was going to hurt, but hopefully, the healing would start quickly.

  She fell into the warm fluid and looked out through the warped and distorted display of the inside of the tank, she breathed in deep for the first time, the second, and then, the sedative began to creep in through her veins.

  She sucked the air in and exhaled slowly, floating as the fluid suspended her with no pressure on her body. As her awareness darkened, she decided that hovering naked in a tube was something worth remembering.

  She woke up several times in the following weeks. Her body was definitely changing. Her skin had changed texture, and there was a low-grade ache in her body from whatever else was going on. The most delightful thing was that her hair turned dark blue around the third week.

  Her skin turned a peculiar ecru pearl. She lost all body hair below the neck, and the filters whisked it away. That was certainly new. She had never been waxed in her life, but there was no way her body could be confused with that of a child.

  Libby noted that her breasts were ratcheting back into the original launch position, and her squared waist was resuming her curves. She was a little more spread out than she was before, and her hands couldn’t encompass her breasts. Her position in the tank change as well. She had gotten more than the single foot of height that she had been after.

  A tall man approached her during one of her waking moments, and he inclined his head.

  She heard a voice reverberating in her mind. Greetings, Elizabeth. I am not surprised you have woken. How are you finding the accommodations?

  She pressed the curved surface. Slightly cramped, a little exposed. What is happening now?

  You will be given languages, and then, you will be removed from the tank. Once you are verified as genetically stable, we will be orbiting near the Mathlu Monastery, and you will be delivered to the surface by dropship.

  That sounds ominous. What is that?

  He smiled, and he displayed sharp teeth. A box is arranged with cushioning and life support, and we drop you out of this shuttle. As an Alliance Protectorate, we are not allowed to put a shuttle on the surface. We will make sure that there is someone to retrieve you on the surface.

  Somehow, your wife didn’t mention that.

  Ah, Minerva is canny. She tells folks what they need to know but not everything. It is a system that works.

  How tall am I now?

  Imperial measurement. Seven feet. The ancients you are dealing with are from a race that began as tall and turned to giants. You should appear suitable to the monks.

  How am I talking to you? I am not even trying to speak.

  Ah,
our conversation is taking place in a few seconds. The speed of thought. They will be coming with the language uploads soon. It was good that we got those from the monastery. They are very restrictive with what they consider to be essential information.

  Well, information is their purpose, is it not?

  He inclined his head. “Just so.”

  He turned and left her, and she took in the thick black feathers that he had in place of hair, the tattoos running down his face that morphed and twisted as he spoke, and the grey skin had slight markings around his eyes and forehead. The endless swirling black in his eyes reminded her of what Minerva had told her about reaching for another mind. No touching.

  The medics who had loaded her in beckoned her to the front of the tank, and she lined up her eyes with the monitor that was giving her instructions in English. She moved her head, and the moment she was lined up, there was a series of rapid flashes, and she fell back, covering her eyes. Her thoughts were scrambling around, and then, she leaned back and let the darkness have her while she sorted herself out.

  Libby woke up when there was activity around her. The tank above her that controlled the light and monitors on her was shifted aside. She floated up and purged her lungs on the way up, inhaling deeply when she entered the air again. She flopped to her belly, coughed, and vomited out the tank fluid. It wasn’t the worst thing she had ever coughed up.

  As she lay like a beached dolphin, the techs began disconnecting all the cables attached to her. She started bleeding, but they massaged her back and waited until the coughing stopped before the three medics moved her down the steps and over to a med bed.

  She was nearly too large for the bed, but they didn’t have any issue sealing up the wounds from the cables, and once she was patched up, they began to run a barrage of scans. They were doing a lot of work on her forehead. It was weird.