Voyage to Athelon (War of the Three Planets Book 5) Read online

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  Voyage to Athelon

  WAR OF THE THREE PLANETS (Book Five)

  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

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  There's this feeling of existential calmness that comes over me every time I make this transition. Every time I begin the shift from normal altitude to atmosphere, those few precious seconds before the air around the ship thickens and things start getting rough as we try and punch our way out of orbit. It's probably a mental thing, the realization that things are about to get hairy. At least if we can make it through those first few rugged seconds in lower atmosphere, it gets a little bit smoother as we rise up into space.

  I don't know, maybe it's something in the air. I really need that calming influence after just narrowly making it on board and barely avoiding certain death at the hands of Reblon commandos.

  The ship around me stutters slightly as it approaches atmosphere. I have no clue where the Yarda Resistance got it or what its interstellar capabilities are, but the hull's intact, it's got some weapons, and it seems to be taking off pretty quickly, so I think that covers most of our bases.

  I nearly lose my balance as the spacecraft lunges left. The first pocket of thickened air punches it like hitting a heavy bag, and knocks it several yards sideways before it expels fuel through the left thrusters to readjust. The lower atmosphere is always thickest, so if we can make it through the next few seconds we should be good to go. At this point that feels like a pretty big 'if'.

  The ship is larger than it looked on the outside. A flat, platter shaped body with swept back wings, a rounded cockpit and large, rectangular thrusters on the rear, make it the kind of ship that surprises you with its speed. I suppose the Yarda Resistance kind of takes what it can get, and this ship certainly matches that description.

  As I was scrambling my way on board, I noticed a few scattered weapons bolted to the external hull of the ship, but not very many, and while the thrusters on the rear are large, they look a bit old and out of shape.

  What the heck do I know about how space ship thrusters look?

  At times like this I wish I'd actually paid attention in science class. A few months ago I was falling asleep in science, and today I somehow have an innate knowledge of the mechanical engineering of stellar jump ships. Just another day in the life of Brie Northstar, Child of the Stars.

  I glance to my left as I enter the cargo area and smirk at a row of narrow, angular rocket packs strapped to the inside hull. Each one is fastened to a silver, padded spacesuit that looks slim, yet with scattered armor plating throughout the torso, biceps, and thighs. Each rocket pack has twin cannons at each shoulder. They look pretty awesome, actually, but at this point unimportant.

  What is important is that there is space inside. As I make my way towards the front, I see several different quarters for passengers and workers, and what looks to be a kitchen, perched just to the right of the large, bulbous cargo area. It's relatively spacious in here, all things considered.

  "Rebel Spacecraft!" the voice is a loud, rebounding echo off the tight confines of the ship.

  My eyes catch a sign on the wall pointing towards the communications room, off at a right angle to the main cargo bay. I angle the path of my sloped walk and enter the hallway.

  "This is Hunjar Flox of the Reblon Ground Patrol. This is your last chance. If you do not reduce thrust and return to the planet we will destroy you!"

  Bracing myself on the slanted walls of the hallway, I make my way into the communications room where Loren and Shrag are seated at the console.

  "Who is this fleabag?" asks Shrag as he reaches towards the comm system. "And how did he get on our channel?"

  "I think I met him on the surface," I say, and Shrag snaps his head around, evidently not realizing I'd sneaked into the comm room. "Big, hairy guy, driving a black and red mech suit. I think he's the commander of field operations down there."

  "Yeesh," Loren replies. "You sure know how to stir up a hornet's nest, Northstar."

  "Last I checked it was you guys yanking Reblon politicians out of their motorcades."

  Loren snickers and returns to the comm system. "So what should I say?"

  "Not a thing," I reply. "We're at Hohmann transfer orbit. In another few minutes and we'll be clear of orbit."

  "You do realize the Reblon Interceptors are interstellar combat equipped as well, right?"

  "Well, yeah. I mean, we figured as much."

  "So what the heck are we expecting to do here?" I ask, trying not to let my exasperation show. But I'm pretty bad at that little talent.

  Loren shrugs her shoulders. "Dunno. I'm not sure we thought that far ahead. In case you forgot, we weren't exactly expecting to have to leave Reblon so quickly. We kind of have to take what we can get here!"

  I press a palm to my forehead and turn away, walking back down the hall. I needed to figure out how to get to the cockpit and have a little talk with Drewsk.

  "Last chance, Rebels!" the voice blares through our entire intercom system. It's definitely the guy from the surface, I recognize that craggy bellow anywhere.

  Deciding to pick up the pace, I break into a run, emerge out into the cargo area, then turn right towards the rounded bow of the ship. Another squat hallway separates the main body from the cockpit. I make the distance in three long strides, then slam my hands on the seat backs.

  "Drewsk what the heck are we going to do?" I ask.

  "About?"

  "About this Reblon hairball who is threatening to bring us down? Loren didn't seem to realize Reblon has surface to space fighters?"

  "She's not a soldier," Drewsk replies, his hands easing the control sticks to the right, guiding the thrashing ship up into higher orbit.

  "So if he sicks the Reblon fleet after us, we're screwed!"

  "One problem at a time," he replies, tightening his grip as the sticks jump and jerk. "We're almost clear of rbit, once we get in lower space we have much more room to maneuver."

  "Maneuver against Reblon Interceptors? In this hunk of junk?"

  Drewsk glances back towards me, a strange twinkle in his eye. "Down underestimate my girl," he replies.

  "What did you call me?"

  The eye twinkle shifts into a roll. "I was talking about the ship."

  He turns his attention back towards the front canopy where swirls of darkened green batter against the front of the ship, taking shots at the hull and glass.

  "We'll be breaking out of orbit in about thirty seconds."

  A loud bang echoes from the rear of the cargo bay and the
entire spacecraft lurches forward, losing purchase in its atmospheric climb for a few precious moments.

  "What was that?" Wiskral asks. It's the first time I notice he's in the co-pilot's seat.

  "We've got Interceptors," Drewsk replies, pointing to the long range scanners.

  "They're firing at us within atmosphere? Is that even possible?"

  "Apparently for them it is. Not so much for us."

  "So we're sitting ducks?"

  "Settle down, I'm taking care of it."

  "How?"

  The cockpit is a dull roar of noise, the assault of the atmosphere against the outer shell of the ship a constant abrasive scream and rattle. All four of Drewsk's arms are clenched tight around various controls, veins bulging below his skin. It's taking all of his might to keep this beast going.

  "I'm accelerating," he replies through gritted teeth.

  "That's your master plan?"

  "I'm open to other ideas. Twenty seconds until we're in lower space!"

  "Are the weapons systems automated or manned?"

  "Auto! Get Loren on them, would ya?"

  I nod and turn away just as a second muffled blast shakes the rear of the ship and shifts it sideways. I leave my feet for a second, but slam my arm against the hallway wall and adjust so I land back on my unsteady feet just as I come back out into the central hold.

  "Loren!" I shout down the hall towards the communications room.

  "Diverting control to weapons, already on it!" Loren replies back. "They're primed and ready for when we break out of atmo!"

  "If we last that long," I say to myself. I charge through the hold back out into the wide rear section leading towards the tail of the space craft. The persistent shaking has started to ease slightly as atmosphere shifts to space and my eyes land on precisely what I was looking for.

  "We're clear of atmosphere, returning fire!" comes Loren's voice over the intercom speaker.

  "Affirmative," is Drewsk's reply. "I'm seeing six Interceptors coming in on our right flank!"

  Six? Yikes!

  The right side of the ship jerks lightly and I can just hear a series of shrill, but muffled snaps, the clear sound of spent phased energy as plasma turrets explode to life along the right of the modified freighter. I hear the even fainter sound of an explosion, which swiftly dies out as we rise in altitude, silencing the audible noise of combat.

  As I pass the rack bolted to the wall, I reach out and close my fingers around the rocket pack I'd seen earlier, which slips from the hook and carries the silver armored suit with it.

  My eyes roam the walls looking for something indicating an airlock, and then I see it, towards the left of the tail section.

  "What are you doing?"

  I turn and look back into the hold and see Kleethak, the Bragdon Elder, who slowly drifts across the floor with his long cloak swirling around concealed feet.

  "Reblon Interceptors are all over us," I reply.

  "And you think strapping on that jet pack will solve this problem?"

  I shrug. "Can't hurt."

  "Brie, don't be foolish,"

  Before he can finish, I take a step back, sprint down the hall into the airlock, pivot, and slam the door closed behind me.

  Kleethak's face appears in the square window, contorted in a mixture of anger and fear.

  For the first time I actually look at the space suit, something I should have done originally. Thankfully there are only two arms, but the suit itself looks massive, a bulky blanket of synthetic material interwoven with reinforced polymer. It looks like a Reblon suit.

  With my fingers tangled in the fabric of the suit, I close my eyes, draw a deep breath, then picture a Reblon commando in my mind. I can feel my muscles twist and bulge as my bone and flesh expand.

  As the ship jumps again amid a series of ratcheting slams, I transform into a Reblon, standing over the crumpled fabric uniform. Kleethak's eyes widen from the other side of the glass.

  It only takes moments to step into the suit and pull it tight around me. Even with all of the armor, it's light and comfortable and hugs my form like a second skin. I pull over a thicker material hood, then press the two concealed releases on each side by my ears. Somehow I just expect them to be there.

  A sheet of translucent airtight mesh slips down to cover my face, then locks tight against two latches built within a reinforced collar around my neck. At the upper left corner of the mesh a small picture is projected, demonstrating how much air is left in the self-contained atmosphere of the suit. I shrug on the black straps of the pack and tighten them around my larger shoulders, then turn and adjust the mounted cannons. A hand-held rifle releases from the jet pack.

  Unlike most Reblon weapons, this particular rifle is energy based, designed for space combat. It feels only too natural in my thickly padded, gloved hands. There are twin handles with the embedded trigger embedded in the curve of the rear handle. With the long, two-post stock and four circular barrels bonded into a larger front section, it's a hefty weapon.

  I have no idea if it'll punch through Interceptor armor, but I suppose there's only one way to find out.

  Three more metallic bangs echo throughout the ship as more Reblon fire bears down on them. So far the hull is holding, but for how long?

  I walk towards the air lock's external door and punch a large, red button that clearly says "Use with Care" in the strange, haggard dialect of the citizens of Reblox. With that single punch and a loud clack, the door shoots open. The vast, horrific wind tunnel of space screams into the chamber, grabbing me around my shoulders and sucking me out into the void. My fingers jump apart and the gun flies from my hands, but the light tug at my hip tells me its tethered to the suit.

  Yeah, maybe I didn't think this through.

  As I tumble forward, I can look back and see the exterior door slam shut on the side of the freighter, which is swiftly growing smaller and smaller as I roll through space. My momentum is carrying me forward and further from the ship I came out here to protect. As I roll and somersault through the vast darkness around me, I fumble with the controls embedded in my padded gloves. Through the spinning streaks of surrounding stars I can see the grouped Interceptors zipping through space, pelting the freighter with bright green plasma, sending arcing pellets of light into the outer hull. Although I can't hear the impact I can see the splashes of light and sparks as they dance across the exterior of the ship. I rebalance my body while I ignite the right thruster of the jetpack, desperately trying to correct my tumble.

  I over-correct and start tipping left, so I adjust with the other control and get myself steady and straight to push me through space at low velocity. I tug the tether at my hip to draw in the rifle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a quad turret on the freighter shift, swivel and ignite, blasting yellow light in four solid, straight beams, carving through one of the Interceptors and blasting it into so much space dust.

  But then three others converge on the wreckage and return fire, directing their own energy weapons at the cannon to obliterate it in a matter of seconds.

  Cradling the weapon in my two-handed grasp, I ignite thrusters and push myself forward.

  "Brie is that you out there?" Drewsk asks inside my head. Well, inside my helmet, more accurately. Apparently the comm system works in here, too.

  "Maybe?" I reply.

  "We've got this under control," he barks.

  "That right side quad cannon begs to differ."

  "You're going to get yourself killed!"

  I elect to not reply and just tip horizontally to enhance my speed as I thrust toward one of the Interceptors straight ahead. I've got the element of surprise now, but after I fire my first shot, that's going to be out the window, so I need to do this carefully.

  As I approach the grouping I tip back, wheeling my legs around and come up to a vertical position, my rifle lifted and tucked tight to my shoulder.

  I bring the quad barrel up towards the rear of the lead spacecraft, which is opening fire on the freigh
ter as I watch.

  I pull the trigger. The weapon leaps in my hand, fuel cells diverting to offensive firepower and the green blast rockets from the front of the weapon like a small fountain of raw liquid plasma.

  A firing mechanism jerks the weapon, cutting off the power, and the result is a torpedo of light energy streaking through space. The ship ahead of me starts to adjust, drifting right and pulling its nose around, obviously now aware of my presence, but before he can fully come around, the green torpedo barrels into the left rear of the ship and ignites the fuel reactor. A blinding scream of white light blasts from the lead ship. The splash back of spent plasma swarms over the other two ships in the immediate vicinity, drowning them all in ignited energy.

  In space, no one can hear you explode.