Birth of Rebellion (War of the Three Planets Book 4) Read online

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  Birth of Rebellion

  WAR OF THE THREE PLANETS (Book Four)

  First Edition

  © 2017 by Justin Bell

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  The inky pitch of deep space is long past us as the slender rocket jerks its way through the upper atmosphere. Even from this distance I can see our destination - that mysterious section of Reblox draped in the shadow of tall buildings. As the Bragdon Elder pointed out, we are entering the northwest sector. Where we'll find this resistance?

  Resistance to what? From what the Elder says, there's resistance on each planet against this vast secret war that threatens to tear apart the entire quadrant. This is a war that's been raging for generations, a war that's brought three planets to the brink of catastrophe, and that only Brie Northstar can stop.

  That's me. I'm Brie Northstar. An eighteen-year-old Athelonian girl who less than two months ago knew nothing more than school, boys, and how weird it was to be the only girl with two arms on a planet full of four-armed citizens.

  Yeah, I don't get it either.

  Even stranger is that the Bragdons were the ones who intercepted my shuttle, half destroyed it, nearly killed me and sent me smashing down to their planet in a banged up frigate.

  Now two Bragdons are my besties.

  This has got to be some weird dream. What did I eat last night to create this messed up universe?

  My stomach growls with that thought and the abrupt realization that oh, yeah, in fact I didn't eat anything last night. I was too busy running through caves and trying to avoid being eaten by monkey aliens. Foolish, foolish me.

  I wonder if this ship has a kitchen. It barely has a cockpit, somehow I doubt there's some secret food storage. This ship is less of a ship and more of a glorified missile that was previously wedged into a false mountain on an artificial Bragdon moon. A moon that Braxis citizens had created to shelter their secret clan of Elders from Reblon detection. Except Reblon had detected them, and had sent a few hundred fur-covered commandos to the surface of that moon.

  Now there's only one of those Elders left.

  Did I mention he's sleeping in the back of my ship?

  Luxen's here, too, trusty old Luxen, the young Bragdon kid who saved my life from that swamp planet, and whose life I saved from an Athelonian death sentence. We look out for each other, he and I. Our bond was forged and then tempered by near death experiences.

  And the fact we might both be Bragdons.

  Did I forget to mention that?

  Yeah, this whole thing about me feeling strange about my Athelonian heritage? It's probably because I'm a shape shifting reptile alien.

  Neat, huh?

  "Brie! Child! Pay attention!"

  I jerk my head up from the keypad in front of me, my fingers hovering over the letters. Somehow I knew keeping this journal would get me into trouble.

  "What is it?" I ask, craning my neck around towards the rear of the ship. The Bragdon Elder is pressing his way towards me through the cargo hold that is little more than a glorified cylindrical hallway he barely fits through.

  "Short range sensors are pinging! We have interceptors converging on our location!"

  I glance up from the journal pad, slipping the cover closed and tossing it into a small cubby in the control panel ahead of me. Sure enough the throbbing red lights are scattered across the digital sensor screen.

  Around us instead of dim sky there are buildings, shining metal structures reaching up towards the lower atmosphere, far taller than I thought they would be and far more confining. I was relying on auto pilot to guide us through and as usual got lost in my journaling.

  Thank goodness the fate of our entire quadrant rests in my capable hands.

  "They're hailing us!" the Elder shouts from behind me.

  "Yeah, so I noticed."

  "Are you going to reply?"

  "Wasn't planning on it."

  I tighten my grip on the controls and increase acceleration, driving the narrow ship into a steeper dive, letting its sleek shape and pointed bow do some of the work. On each side of the aircraft are slicked back triangular wings of carbon fiber, capable of air to surface flight, but not all that maneuverable, especially when compared to Reblox interceptors.

  A streak of bright light laces the sky ahead of me, a swift warning charge from an interceptor to my left.

  "Unidentified spacecraft!" a voice echoes through the internal comm systems. "You have breached Reblox airspace! Identify yourself or the next shot will not be across your bow!"

  My mind races. It's been doing that a lot lately. Before I even settle on an appropriate course of action, my right hand is cranking back on the throttle while my left hand slams the stick forward, twisting steering rudders in opposite directions. The lumbering rocket shudders as it pitches right, angling around a tall, broad building the middle of the city, arcing between two structures. To my right, Reblox interceptors whine as they pull back and scream away, up into the sky to avoid slamming into the heavily windowed barriers now easing on my right.

  "Are you really trying to navigate this ship through the city streets?" the elder asks incredulously.

  "You have a better idea, Elder?"

  "Call me Kleethak. If we're both going to die down here, we might as well be on a first name basis."

  "When I want your commentary, I'll ask for it, Kleenex," I reply.

  "Kleethak."

  "Right."

  My muscles tighten as I adjust the throttles and bring the long, thin ship into a controlled forward thrust, rolling down a broad alley between rows of buildings.

  "I used to be the most respected elder of my clan, child."

  "Yeah and I was promised a new grav car for my sixteenth birthday."

  I shove both hands forward, igniting thrust and sending the rocket screaming forward, chased by columns of red flame.

  "What's going on?" a small voice asks as I bank left, almost scraping the windows of a building to our right.

  "Oh, nothing," I reply. "Trying to avoid certain death and hoping we don't rain fire and shrapnel down on innocent Reblons below."

  "What the-?" Luxen asks, his yellow eyes springing wide. "Where are we?"

  "Good morning," I say. "We're apparently in a big Reblox city. Couldn't tell you which one, this is my first visit."

  More beams of light criss-cross over the front window and I glance at the scanners, seeing clusters of interceptors closing in on each side. Another warning shot is fired. Wimps.

  With an adjustment on the controls, I dip the nos
e, pick up speed, and send the ship lurching downward as more weapons fire screams overhead. The ship groans and jumps left as two shots bang into the right-hand side, splashing liquid energy across the hull.

  "They're going to bring us down!" Kleethak hisses.

  "All part of the plan," I reply, as if there is an actual plan.

  I draw in a deep breath. "Grab hold of something!"

  I grab hold of the control sticks and throw myself backwards, hauling on them with all of my strength. The rocket screams as it tips back and grinds upwards, bellowing out clouds of red flame and orange smoke. As it nears a vertical trajectory, I bank right and cut thrusters, guiding the ship in a steep downward pitch toward the perimeter of buildings ringing this small, but clustered city.

  "Yes! There!" Kleethak barks, jabbing a gray-skinned finger towards a shrouded spot on the ground far below.

  "Those interceptors are fast and agile," I reply, "but I have the benefit of complete insanity."

  The narrow ship continues its sudden downward trajectory, screaming towards the surface of Reblox. The ground below is layered tall grass surrounding what looks like a small village of huts and clay built buildings, a rolling meadow of near nothingness to the East of one of the most pristine cities I'd ever seen. Such a strange combination, made only stranger by the fact that the ground is rushing towards us at sickening velocity.

  "Does this thing have jettison pods?" I ask through gritted teeth. The G-force is peeling back the skin of my face, my mouth can't move.

  "I... think so?" Kleethak replies, helpful as always.

  "Let's hope so!"

  I retrieve the journal from the cubby and slide it into a pouch on the military vest I'm wearing, a left over from the operation on the Bragdon moon. With darting eyes I look around the cockpit and locate a seat belt on the narrow seat next to me, then reach over, cutting it free with a Bragdon knife stuffed into a sheath on my boot.

  "Go into the aft section!" I scream. "Find a pod!"

  I pull the belt free, I turn towards the control sticks and twist the leather strap around both of them, pulling tight, cinching the resistance on the sticks to a thick metal post supporting the cockpit. I tie it off and secure it around the controls, my muscles screaming in pain at the aggressive forces working against me with the swift downward trajectory of the rocket that saved our lives.

  We're rewarding its hard work with destruction.

  I push myself away from the pilot's seat and dash back into the cargo hold, pressing my hands against the rounded walls of the hull to steady myself as the spacecraft shudders. Two echoing clangs resonate from outside as Reblox attack fire continues unabated and interceptors continue to close in on the mysterious infiltration craft.

  "Jettison pod?!" I call out. "You guys find one?"

  The darkness ahead of me seems to grow, slink over the walls, and cling to my skin as I walk forward, brushing at the corners of my eyes. My head screams in pain and I can't walk forward as the forces of gravity and increasing velocity threaten to pull me to the ground and pin me there while the rocket screams towards annihilation.

  My head goes light, my eyes pinching closed against the pain and pressure.

  Darkness swallows me as the ground below will soon swallow the rocket as it draws it in to smash it to pieces and scatter us all across the landscape.

  ###

  "We're out!"

  I can't quite make out the words at first. My entire sense of being is masked in a dark fog. My eyes blink through curtains of dense, dark smoke, trying to clarify some picture ahead of me, but my view consists of scattered lights and metal.

  An echoing explosion surrounds us, a rolling cascade of heat, noise, and choking smoke. I'm lunging towards the left, out of control, in a strange tumble through the air, chased by smoke and fire.

  "Wake up, Brie!" shouts a voice. That small voice. That Bragdon voice.

  "Luxen?" I ask, blinking, trying to clear this thick smoke from my eyes.

  "We're in a jettison pod!" he shouts back at me. "Barely made it. Fuel ignited in the rocket before it even hit the ground and now we're tumbling!"

  The sky, the ground and, the buildings are rolling in front of us like we're in a clothes dryer.

  Towards my left the Bragdon Elder is sitting in a narrow bucket seat. "You have us under control?" I ask the elder through a choked voice.

  "Well, we're still alive," he replies, his gravel growl a bit too shaky for my liking.

  My head swims as I push myself upright and shove past Luxen, a bit harder than I intend.

  "Out," I say, and the Elder removes himself from the seat, backing away.

  My head is still swimming and the whole world around us is toppling over itself. I wrap my hands around the controls and move with the tumble, igniting left thrust to compensate and bring the jettison pod under control.

  The ground ahead fills up the entire view screen as I engage reverse braking thrust, dialing pressure to full as we slam down onto the ground. All of us are thrown around inside the pod, bouncing against walls as the rounded escape vehicle jumps and crashes against the ground like a discarded rugby ball thrown by some space giant.

  The pod buckles, but does not break, while tossing us around like forgotten toys, before rolling to an uneasy rest on the grass.

  All is quiet except the light creak of metal as the pod rocks back and forth on its resting spot in the tall grass, easing its way left and right.

  My head screams.

  "Everyone alive?" I ask through gritted teeth.

  "Yes," replies Kleethak.

  "Here," says Luxen.

  All alive. For whatever that's worth.

  "We need to move. Now! The interceptors might have seen our escape."

  They almost certainly did, and now we have to make ourselves scarce.

  ###

  Moments later, I'm not really certain how many, we pull ourselves from the broken wreckage of the jettison pod. It lies there in the grass with a plume of smoke spiraling from the rounded metal slug and patches of grass around it burning. It might as well be a beacon for the Reblons.

  But we're alive.

  Kleethak retrieves some cloth blankets from the pod. We craft cloaks by draping them over our shoulders as we approach the edge of this tiny village that is simply a small collection of low buildings masked in the darkened shadows of skyscrapers not far away.

  There is a rough dirt road smashed down into the grass leading towards a gateway to the village, but the gateway doesn't appear to be manned and the three of us walk right through.

  "What is this place?" I ask, pressing a hand to my shoulder and squeezing. I would have said I'll feel that in the morning, but the truth is, I feel it right now. No need to wait until morning.

  Kleethak is moving as well though not as slow as a two hundred-year-old lizard should be moving after being bounced around in a tiny escape pod for several minutes.

  "Gungra," he replies.

  "Bless you," I reply back.

  "I will never understand your sense of humor, young one," he says, and I believe him. "This is the village of Gungra, masked in the shadow of the city of Radogrash. One of the smallest cities in the northern hemisphere, and thus one of the smaller villages, a place where nothing happens."

  "Nothing except rebellion," I reply.

  "Hush, child."

  Kleethak leads us to a rough-hewn dirt road carved into the ground between rows of primitive huts. The small, clay crafted structures are the stark opposite of the glittering orchestra of glass and steel rising up towards the clouds not a mile away.

  A trio of howls splits the air above us, and I squint at a cluster of interceptors heading back into the city in defensive formation.

  "Do they think we're dead?" I ask as we veer left and emerge onto the main stretch of road.

  "We couldn't be so fortunate," he replies.

  The road is cluttered with Reblons, crowds of the broad-shouldered, fur-covered creatures, most of them dressed in ratty c
oat suits clinging to matted, dirty hair. A pair of Bragdons emerge from what I assume is a tavern to my right, then disappear into a furry crowd of homegrown citizens.

  The cloaks are loose around us, makeshift hoods pulled tight over our faces, shrouding our true selves from those around us, though our smaller sizes must be obvious to any remotely observant town folk.

  But it dawns on me that the people in this town don't much care whether we're Reblons or not. They don't much care what's going on beyond their own small sphere of influence. That's precisely why the resistance picked a place like this to hide out. There's already a melting pot here, and nobody would notice other races moving in and out.

  Well, unless you're an Athelonian with only two arms. Those kind of stand out in any crowd. Suddenly I feel very conspicuous, and wish I'd shifted into a Bragdon, or heck, even a Reblon before we set foot in this particular backwater.