The Alorian Wars Box Set

by Drew Avera

  “What do you want to do, sir? Would you like to investigate the distress beacon?” Vesna asked as he stood, almost at attention. Most likely in hopes of impressing his captain, Ilium thought.

  He pondered the situation for a moment before responding. “How long ago was the distress call sent out?”

  “Within the hour, sir.”

  How convenient.

  “I’m assuming we are in range. How long before we can intersect their ship?”

  Vesna stood silent for a moment, his lips moving quietly before he answered, “We can jump at the next key and be within vicinity in four hours, sir.”

  That wasn’t the range Ilium was hoping for. “By that time the ship could already be scuttled,” Ilium replied. How sad if it happened and I wasn’t there to witness it, he thought.

  “Yes, sir, but we could find evidence traceable to pirate cells.”

  Anti-piracy wasn’t at the top of Ilium’s radar, but testing the Hamæråté’s combat capability was something he was interested in. He leaned back into his seat again, brushing his hand through his hair. “Set an intersecting course with the Replicade. Monitor the situation and notify me of any other calls from the craft or others within the sector that might be complicit in this attack. If we can save the ship, we will. If not, we can go pirate hunting. Either way, I think it’s time to test the crew.”

  “Yes, sir. I will initiate that order right away.” Vesna turned around and stalked out the door without uttering another word.

  Ilium sat, amused by the fact a man he thought was dead would turn up on a ship targeted by Faraxian pirates. It was almost comical, he thought. What are the odds that I can get revenge for losing the Replicade by not only finding her, but by killing Brendle in the process? That is, if whatever pirates have her in their sights don’t kill them first.

  The idea of destiny flooded into his mind again, about how often opportunities presented themselves, yet some people never seized them when it was advantageous to do so. That was weakness, at least in his opinion. He chose to embrace his destiny. There was no honor in shying away from it.

  Did he want to investigate the attack?

  Of course not, but he did want to watch Brendle Quin die, and what better way than to mount a rescue mission, to let Brendle know that once again his life was in Ilium’s hand? But this time his hands were not tied by weak-willed policies. This time, Brendle Quin would surely die. Ilium would ensure it this time.

  MUTINY RISING

  1

  Ilium

  The scanners were silent onboard the Hamæråté as the crew on the bridge listened for a distress beacon. Two hours prior there had been a distress call from a ship called the Replicade, but now there was no evidence that it ever existed. All that was left was a silent, dark void in the abyss surrounding the small, rocky planet called Farax. The only sound permeating the silence on the bridge was the crackling drone of static as Lieutenant Vesna, the Intelligence Officer on the Hamæråté, filtered through every channel available, scanning for any faint signal from the original distress call.

  “Scan the area again,” Ilium said as he sat, his chin resting on his fist. All eyes were on the monitors, with nothing new to show, just the same data as the previous three scans conducted over the last couple of hours. Even with the time displacement between jumps, the Hamæråté should have been picking up something beyond the darkness. I was this close to having that ship, Ilium thought while he ground his teeth with nervous fury. He swore under his breath as the crew carried out the fourth scan which further proved there was nothing there. I’m stalling, wasting time in hopes of saving face, but there’s not a damned thing here.

  Outside the Hamæråté’s hull, Farax reflected the docile glow of its nearby star through the hazy, poisonous gases of its atmosphere. The upper and lower atmospheres of the planet mixed about as well as oil and water, but it made the planet inhabitable, causing the greenhouse gases to allow enough vegetation to grow to support life, but it was still mostly barren and hostile. The sensor array scanned the small orb floating in the dark expanse, but it was hard to see the terrain below the thick, heavy clouds, and any evidence of the ship falling back down the gravity well could have been easily obscured. Could the ship have crashed back to the landmasses slightly obscured by thick clouds? Of course, but if that was the case then an emergency beacon would still ping to any listening craft nearby. A craft such as the Hamæråté.

  But Ilium knew that the Replicade had not crash landed onto the planet below. There was only two possible explanations for what happened and there wasn’t evidence pointing at either at the moment, which filled Ilium full of dread. Either the Replicade floated dead in the darkness, or she escaped through one of several Keys surrounding Farax. The area was a hotbed of traffic, both legal and illegal, and more than two dozen Keys were used to jump to different sectors in the Alorian Galaxy. The Keys were tools intended for the Greshian Navy to use to allow the empire to reach beyond the distances normally covered by her ships. The fact those same Keys were accessed illegally was not lost on the Greshian Empire. They were just too busy expanding their control to take the time to secure the Keys properly. In time, all of the keys would be monitored and any violators would be killed immediately, but that time had not yet come and it afforded many opportunities for clever pilots to evade capture. In Ilium’s heart, he knew the Replicade jumped through one of the Keys and escaped; he just needed proof as to which one to set his mind at ease. The Alorian Galaxy was enormous, and hopes of stumbling upon that ship were scarce. With two dozen possible jump sites, coupled with at least eight or nine more potential jump locations in short range of the nearby Keys, the Replicade could be anywhere, hundreds of lightyears from the Hamæråté’s current location.

  “Still not picking anything up, sir,” Lieutenant Vesna said with a sigh. The man had one earpiece transfixed to his right ear and the other made available to hear whatever his new commanding officer ordered. The man’s eyes peered at him, pleading to stop the nonsense. Ilium wanted to stop, but for some reason he could not make the call that everyone wanted to hear.

  “Keep trying,” Lieutenant Commander Ilium Gyl said. He was still breaking in as the Commanding Officer of the GNS Hamæråté and he needed to show that he took his job of leadership seriously. This was the first mission he set his sights on and he was determined to see it through to the end without making any missteps. It did not matter much if he was sincere in his efforts, but the show was to keep from drawing suspicion of any other endeavors percolating in his mind. Still, how much was enough? He felt as if his efforts going into this attempted “rescue” mission showed more insanity than it did any kind of real leadership and empathy for the ship making the distress call. Will the crew notice?

  Ilium’s ideas of grandeur were what led him to this position, and he suspected it would lead him much higher up the chain of command until he was the man who controlled the Greshian Navy. But he had to not fuck away what he now had if he had hopes of making it as far as he felt he was destined to go. It was his burden to see this through, to hell with those who did not understand his position and what was at stake. He had bigger dreams in need of fulfillment.

  It was, after all, his destiny.

  “We’ve tried several times, sir. I think we can call it quits now,” Vesna said reluctantly. The man nervously looked at Ilium as if he realized he was out of line for saying so. The truth was, the man’s words came as a relief to Ilium.

  Finally, enough is enough, Ilium thought as he scratched his chin, pretending to be lost in thought, or contemplating some major plan coming to him at the last moment. His mind, though, was an empty space void of anything other than his own aspirations. A dreamer of a brighter future with no regard for the cumbersome present he was forced to endure. It may all be an act, but it takes so much work to maintain this role, he thought.

  Ilium nodded. “Fine, but take us around Farax in case the ship has lost power and is caught in orbit around the planet.


  “Yes, sir,” Vesna said, looking at the navigator who quietly ordered the sailor nearby to do as Ilium had ordered.

  The Hamæråté moved forward, the gravitational forces created onboard seemed to push the men back in their seats until the pressure leveled out. Each set of eyes on the bridge gazed at the monitors, searching for a blip or pulse that might indicate there was a vessel in the area. As the seconds ticked by the likelihood of finding a dead ship waned, much less the chances of finding a surviving crewmember.

  Ilium grew bored as the ship made its first pass around Farax. I didn’t think a rescue mission would take this long, he thought, grinding his teeth as his chin rested in his hand. The only reason I was willing to come all the way out here was for the chance to see the Replicade destroyed. I have no idea if Brendle is even on the vessel, but if he is, then seeing it floating dead in the dark would be a sight for sore eyes.

  “We aren’t picking up anything in the readings for a ship of that size, sir.”

  Exasperated, Ilium rose from his seat and cleared his throat. “Good job, gentlemen, maybe we can make it back to Cherea and make our port call on time.”

  “Would you like for me to file the report as ‘not confirmed,’ sir?” Vesna asked.

  Ilium turned to face him. “You may as well. We don’t need other ships coming to find the same nothing we just found,” Ilium answered. Besides, just in case we missed them, I don’t want there to be a miraculous rescue.

  “Sir, I’m picking up something.” The voice came from an enlisted man whom Ilium did not know the name of.

  “What is it?”

  “It appears to be a small craft, sir,” Vesna said. “There’s no way it is the Replicade, but it could be a transport ship. Pirates in the area use those for decoys.”

  “Let’s check it out,” Ilium ordered.

  “What if it’s pirate bait?” Vesna asked.

  Ilium cut his eyes towards the subordinate officer. “Are we not well armed enough to combat a pirate?”

  “We are, sir, but is it worth the risk?”

  In his mind, Ilium was slicing the younger man’s throat for his insolence. Outside, his cold stare stifled the rage building up in his chest. There’s several ways I can handle this, he thought. Should I let it go or should I berate him in front of the men? “There’s no harm in checking it out, Lieutenant. I want a full scan of the area as we approach; if anything comes out of hiding I want it lit up like a star.”

  “Aye, sir,” came a response not from Vesna, who stood on the other side of the bridge, a look of condemnation on his face.

  The Hamæråté traveled closer to the dead vessel, the details of it going from a grainy image to something crisper and more defined as the sensors scanned it and fed the image into the monitors.

  “The drive is down and there are modifications to the transport that gave it armament capability. It’s a pirate ship, sir,” the enlisted man said. His name was Orta, Ilium remembered.

  “Is it manned?”

  “I’m not picking up anything, sir.”

  Ilium ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought about what to do next. Leaving the ship out in the open could lead to more trouble down the road. He could order to have it destroyed, but part of him thought that would be a waste. He finally settled on something he knew would get him a dirty look from the ill-tempered Lieutenant. “Reel it in,” Ilium said.

  Vesna’s jaw went slack. “But, sir, that ship could be rigged with explosives. It’s a decoy to lure in ships like ours and take us out. Surely you aren’t falling for a trick like that?” his voice went high the more he spoke and the whiney, nasally complaint made Ilium want to cut the man’s tongue out of his face.

  Ilium turned and faced the man, nose to nose so the man could smell Ilium’s breath as he spoke. “I’m well aware of what the situation is, Vesna. I am prepared for the unlikely occurrence that this is a trap. My suggestion to you is to have your men reel it in carefully as not to trigger an explosion. I also suggest that the next time you question my order you think about the fact that I am the commanding officer of this ship and I will have your bitchy little mouth spaced faster than you want to know. Am I understood?”

  Vesna swallowed hard, his nervous gaze softening to one of cowardice. It made something in Ilium’s mind smile to know he made the weaker man crumble.

  “Yes, sir,” Vesna replied.

  “Good. Now reel the transport vessel in and give me a report when you have it on board. I’ll be in my office.” Ilium stepped off the bridge and walked down the narrow passageway, a grim smirk etched on his face. If ever there was a time to be hopeful, now is the time, he thought as he turned the corner and ascended the ladder well leading to the deck his cabin was located. I might not have the Replicade, but I have the vessel that most likely attacked her. Maybe I can run a scan and determine which Key she jumped through and triangulate her position. If not, it’s no big deal, but if I find her I will be the one to deliver the deathblow, Ilium swore.

  2

  Anki

  There was something about walking through the bustling city streets of Tharsus that made Anki both nervous and excited. It was the first time in half a year that she set foot on a world that even remotely resembled Luthia, but in some ways Karanta was far superior to her home world. Of course, Karanta had the distinct advantage of having not been destroyed by Greshia, but she could see what Luthia could have been had the war never been sparked in the first place. On the surface, Karanta was as technologically advanced as any of the warring worlds spread throughout the Alorian Galaxy, but as she watched and paid attention to the happenings going on in the world, she noticed their culture was one of peaceful prosperity. Not only were the streets clean and the landscape serene despite the towering structures, but the people were some of the nicest she had ever experienced, and it seemed that Tharsus in particular was a melting pot of many worlds coming together.

  Anki looked up at the towering cityscape, its buildings reaching towards the triple moons hanging scant in the dark blue sky. It was never dark on Karanta, just daylight and a nightly dim that danced poetically as the world spun about its axis with beautiful lights flooding the sky and painting the clouds above. She was certain that some days on Luthia were darker than any night she'd experienced since the Replicade landed on this world two weeks prior. It was odd and made it difficult to sleep at first, with the light penetrating through the blinds in the windows, but she knew it was something she could get used to. She learned to thrive in the military, and learned to live on a ship; she could learn to do anything. Of course, that all hinged on whether or not they stayed.

  "What are you thinking about?" Brendle asked, squeezing her hand lightly as they walked towards their hotel. It was their third night out on the town and she loved Tharsus just as much as she resented it for not being Luthia. What I wouldn’t give to see Port Carreo again, she thought as Brendle spoke again. “You’ve been oddly quiet this evening.” His voice was scratchy from getting over a cold. The planet Karanta was colder than Greshia. Despite the luminosity, the planet was actually further from its star than Greshia was and only received as much light as it did because of the three moons and their proximity to Karanta. Even in the daytime, there was a halo hovering over the planet as the moons reflected the light of their nearby star. That halo was what gave Karanta her name; it meant “everlasting light”. Greshia had one moon and was half the distance from its older, larger star. Still despite the colder weather, Brendle seemed to enjoy Karanta and the freedom it brought. It was a far cry from Farax and having to look over their shoulders as they walked through the city. At least that was how Anki saw it.

  "I'm just wondering if we could fit into this world," she said hopefully. Anki didn't hate living on the Replicade with Brendle, Deis, and Malikea, but she loved the convenience of living on a world, of having easy access to anything she could ever desire. The food and plentiful water weren’t the only magnetizing things about Karanta, though. They we
re a peaceful and welcoming world. It wasn’t hard to not miss the things you have to do without. "Look around; there are many mixed families here."

  Brendle nodded, taking in the scenery as he adjusted the collar of his jacket. There was a nervous expression on his face, but she doubted it had anything to do with the fact she mentioned the word family. It was the same look he often had when he didn’t realize someone was looking; an expression that she noticed after Crase Tuin came into their lives. "I have to say that the mix of people here has not gone unnoticed to me." He frowned as he looked from side to side. He could never seem to keep still when they were surrounded by large crowds, she noticed. It was a nervous energy that was contagious, making her look around as well, but nothing was there that seemed like a threat; just more smiling, friendly faces of the local community.

  "But?" She could hear the need to counterpoint his statement in his voice. He is easy to read in that way, she thought. I always know when something is bothering him.

  "But I'm not convinced we are safe anywhere, much less a world this advanced and not yet hooked in the snare of the Greshian Empire. It’s only a matter of time before they set their sights on this world, and then what? I can’t help but keep looking behind my back, waiting for the next threat to jump out at us. We have evaded a Greshian warship and escaped from a pirate. The next thing we know we'll be watching this world fall under attack with a front row seat to watch its annihilation." The words fell from his lips like a waterfall he had been struggling to contain. Weeks-worth of pressure had built up and he was dumping his fears at her feet. She couldn’t blame him, though, she bottled that stuff inside too, and it was hard to not be affected by it. It was a mental tactic she learned as a marine to put aside the things out of your control. It helped to cope with what had happened, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t affected by it.