Echoes of Guardians

by C. S. Harte

  Echoes of Guardians

  Book One of the Entrent Saga

  C. S. Harte

  Star Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by C.S. Harte

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, live or dead are purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-947721-04-3

  Version 1.0.0 (11/20/18)

  For my Maria.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Also by C. S. Harte

  About the Author

  Reader Circle

  1

  Jonas Barick gazed at his final meal with heavy eyes. Two brown, rectangular wedges jiggled as he moved the tray to his lap. Standard-issue prison protein bars. Tasteless but nutrient-dense, the only food allowed for maximum security inmates on the Wynter prison outpost in the Trias system of Commonwealth space.

  With a fork, Jonas separated the bars into bite-sized pieces that squirmed as they settled into place. Bug bars, a harrowing fusion of ant, termite, and maggot protein mixed with crushed animal bones and synthetic supplements. He stabbed at one chunk and sighed as he brought it to his mouth. Eating no longer brought gratification for him, serving mostly as a means to break the monotony of solitary confinement. He lowered his fork to the tray without taking a bite. I’ll be dead by tomorrow morning, anyway. Jonas moved to the corner of his bed and brought his knees to his chest. He ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair and stared at the ceiling. His square chin quivered with each breath.

  Every moment of Jonas’ life for the past five sol-years, the length of time he served thus far, was designed to be bland and boring. The goal was to break him mentally. His will to live was nearly gone. Oddly, Jonas looked forward to tomorrow, when his misery would finally end.

  Interactions with people were minimal and brief. Jonas had no visitors during his five years of captivity, only silent exchanges with prison guards who brought and took away his meal tray. The guards were not allowed to speak to Jonas. They designated him as EDD — extremely dangerous and disruptive — the type of inmates who were, “capable of inciting rebellion within the Commonwealth,” and considered the most dangerous of prisoners to an ordered society.

  Life was not always so bleak for Jonas. Before his incarceration, he was Commander Jonas Barick, a rising star among Fleet officers, First Officer of the Commonwealth of Man Spaceship (CMS) Endurance, the youngest Commander in Fleet history at 22 years of age. He graduated first in his class at the Fleet Officers’ Academy, scoring the highest marks in multiple disciplines: philosophy, naval tactics, quantum physics, faster-than-light engineering, xeno-diplomacy, nano-biology, and numerous others. Jonas represented a new breed of soldier-scientists within Fleet, and the Admirals and administrators high in the chain of command groomed him to be poster boy for future cadets to follow.

  After graduation, Jonas had his pick of any post on any Fleet ship, but surprised his classmates with a curious decision. He chose a science officer opening on a soon-to-be-retired discovery-class vessel in the farthest reaches of human space.

  In his heart, for as long as he could remember, Jonas loved exploring new worlds and cataloging new species of life. Nolan Barick, Jonas’ older brother, often took him and their sister Saera to resort planets like Parthi Prime to see the Damask crystalline trees shimmer against the system’s red giant sunsets and to Daxu to watch the migration of the Plixie mushrooms during the Moonspore migration season.

  Those were the few smile-filled memories Jonas had left of his siblings and his life in general. Nolan died a few months before Jonas’ sentencing. He was branded a coward for not fighting against the Mimic invasion on Ostia Space Station. Saera disappeared while on their trip to Daxu, presumably kidnapped when the brothers had their heads turned. These tragic stories and the pain that followed were etched as deeply into Jonas’ heart as his memories, a source of anguish that fueled his suffering beyond his captivity.

  Jonas lied on his bed in a cramped two-by-three meter padded cell. His body barely fit his bed. Near his feet were two video screens embedded in the wall padding. The top displayed a countdown clock showing the number of sol-days, hours, and seconds until his execution.

  0 days, 12 hours, 46 minutes, 21 seconds.

  On the second screen, his charges looped in a slow-motion slideshow, a constant, unforgiving admonition of his crimes.

  Conspiracy to commit mutiny on the CMS Endurance.

  Conspiracy against the Commonwealth of Man.

  Providing aid to the Alliance of Faith during times of war.

  Piloting a Commonwealth ship into enemy space.

  Committing an act of war.

  Murder of Captain Cole Weyer, CMS Endurance.

  Murder of Lieutenant Commander Renna Voight, CMS Endurance.

  Murder of Lieutenant Commander Hank Tien, CMS Endurance.

  The list continued with the names of each murdered crew member, 259 people in total. Below every victim’s name was an accompanying portrait. Over the course of five years and tens of thousands of loops, the names and faces of his victims became crystallized in his mind despite having no recollection of his time on board the Endurance. Every moment that led to the death of his shipmates was gone — wiped from Jonas’ mind like gamma radiation to a quantum hard disk drive. The flashcard of names and faces were essentially strangers to him.

  Shortly after formal charge, Fleet Command sent a telepath, an Entrent, to interrogate Jonas — standard operating procedure given the severity of the accusations. Jonas remembered staring into the radiant, violet eyes of the Entrent. He then recalled the sensation of scalding knives cutting into his brain as the Entrent probed his memories. Not long after, Jonas passed out from the excruciating pain of having his mind flayed open. When he woke again, he found himself inside a prison cell, confused how he arrived there.

  Jonas scrunched his face in agony and quickly rubbed his temples. The migraines returned. They usually did when he tried to recall the Entrent's face. Testimony from a mind probe was absolute, incontrovertible within Commonwealth courts. Still, Jonas shook his head whenever the names of the people he supposedly murdered scrolled on the screen. While he felt the pang of guilt pooling in his stomach each time he read the names and saw their portraits, it was not the remorseful type of regret for having wronged them, but the sorrowful kind for surviving when they didn’t.

  The timer continued to tick down.

  0 days, 12 hours, 13 minutes, 35 seconds.

  Initially, the countdown
clock was a source of dread for Jonas, viewing it as the amount of time he had left in the world. As the clock headed toward zero, he accepted his fate and looked forward to the end. Death would be a sweet release to the hell that had been his captivity.

  The artificial lights in the cell dimmed.

  Jonas glanced at the underside of his right forearm, a habit he could never break. Blue letters shone through his lightly tanned skin spelling the word, “Error,” for a moment before disappearing. Every Commonwealth citizen had access to bio-information panel (BIP) implants, an internal computer that displayed the current health status, date, and time, and served as an interface to other biological enhancements. All Fleet Sailors had access to a wide variety of neuromods such as enhanced strength, speed, agility, and dexterity, ensuring the fighting superiority of the Commonwealth military.

  One more night to go. At least I’ll be with my brother again. And maybe, Saera too… Just as he closed his eyes, a red shadow, shapeless like a cloud moved across the room.

  Jonas shot up into a sitting position.

  The mist-like shadow continued to hover in front of his bed, changing form and shape at will.

  Jonas slapped himself across his left cheek as hard as he could. Delusions often visited him, stopping by more frequently as his life ticked toward an end. Lately, those delusions came with real-sounding voices, taking the form of ghosts which stood silently next to his bed as he slept. Sometimes, these spirits had scorched faces. The worst was when the air smelled of smoke accompanied by the grisly scent of burning flesh.

  Something was different with this particular scarlet hallucination. Never had any of Jonas’ ghosts appeared to him as a crimson shadow. “Are you a reaper, here to take me to the afterlife?” He reached out as he spoke.

  The mist expanded and took human form.

  “I still have some time left.” Jonas curled into a ball as chills crawled up his spine. He pushed himself deep into the corner of his bed and shook uncontrollably.

  “You should not be afraid of death Jonas, but the boredom of living forever,” said a soft feminine voice. The scarlet mist solidified into a human female figure. Her lips curved into a wry smile. “I’m here to get you out.”

  Jonas rubbed his eyes, unconvinced of the reality before him.

  Standing next to his bed was a woman with coffee-colored skin, wearing a red and black form-fitting combat suit. The hilts of two blades peaked over her shoulders. Her long onyx-colored hair was braided into a ponytail. The sides of her head were shaved down close to her skin. She had soft, symmetrical features, flawlessly positioned across her war paint covered-face. One dark blue band streaked horizontally across her eyes. Two slim white stripes ran vertically down her cheeks.

  Jonas stared at the mystery woman in both confusion and awe. “Who… Who are you?”

  “You can call me Whisper, and we need to leave before the guards do their morning checks.” She offered her hand.

  Jonas scratched his cheek. Whisper was unlike any of his prior delusions. He was confident he didn’t recognize the face, but the red and black outfit, the swords, and the war paint — those stirred memories from his previous life. “Do I know you?”

  “We’ve never met. But if we don’t leave right now, this will be the last time you’ll see me.”

  2

  Jonas held Whisper’s hand for a moment before pulling back. It felt solid and warm like it belonged to a real person. She’s really here. But how is this possible? His eyes darted to the door. It was closed, magnetically and securely sealed. Is this a trick? Jonas buried his face in his hands. "Doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t make sense. No… I’ve lost my mind. You’re not really here…”

  Whisper sighed and rolled her eyes. “Listen," She reached for his hand again. “I know how this looks. You’re not crazy.”

  Jonas pulled away and curled into a ball.

  She leaned over his bed. “I am here. We have to leave now. Do you understand?”

  A glint of light shone from the insignia around her neck.

  Jonas stared at the design, gold Fleet wings with two crossed swords over them. “You’re part of Fleet special operations.”

  She nodded.

  Why would someone from Spec Ops break me out? His curiosity pressed a more imperative question. “Wait, how did you get in here?”

  Whisper tapped her wrist guard. “My combat suit has a portable warp field generator. I can make short-range jumps, including through solid objects.”

  Jonas laughed hysterically. “Not that long ago we had warp for ships, and now it’s portable… Now I know you’re a delusion…”

  “I apologize in advance for this.” She reached her hand back and smacked Jonas hard across his face, leaving a solid red mark. “Did that feel like a delusion to you?”

  Jonas meekly shook his head while covering his blossoming cheek.

  “You can ask all the questions you want later. We need to leave right NOW!”

  Klaxons blared outside in the hallway.

  Whisper jerked her head backward. “Dammit! Looks like they found my ship.”

  Jonas glanced at the countdown clock. If I stay, I’m dead in less than 12 hours. But I deserve it, for all the people I’ve killed. When he closed his eyes, the slideshow of every slain Endurance crew member rolled through his mind. He no longer needed a screen to see their faces — the entire reel copied into his memory. “No, I can’t leave… I… I deserve to die. I killed hundreds of innocent people. My shipmates…” Sweat soaked through his prison garb.

  “Listen, Jonas. You’ve been brainwashed. They've conditioned you to think you belong here, but believe me when I say this: You've been framed. From the moment you brought the Endurance back to stardock, they had no intention of believing you. I can prove everything if you come with me.”

  He leaned into Whisper as he stared into her eyes. “Is that true? I was framed?”

  Whisper looked at Jonas and gave him a short, but quick nod. “Shall we?” She offered her hand.

  Jonas allowed her to help him up.

  She reached over her shoulder and unsheathed one of her swords. “You know how to use a torch blade?”

  “I’ve trained with swords before but never used them in combat.”

  Whisper handed him the sword. “Good enough.” She pulled out her other blade. With a flick of her wrist, the silver metal glowed a fiery red. Each wave of her sword created a sharp sound as if slicing through the air itself. The hum of her weapon seemed louder than the roar of the sirens outside. “Stand back,” she said before effortlessly knifing through the metal walls of the room as if it were sheets of paper.

  Jonas stood frozen, staring at the newly created exit. He searched his memory for the last time he left the room but couldn't recall such a moment. Freedom… A light turned on behind his eyes. For the first time in years, he was beyond the confines of his two by three meter cell.

  “Stay close behind me.” She stuck her head out, checking for guards and motioned for Jonas to follow.

  The image of Whisper’s insignia gnawed at him. I’ve seen it before. Jonas scrunched his face in pain. Ever since the mind probe, headaches flooded his skull whenever he tried to recall distant memories.

  They made it less than ten meters before a guard called out from behind them.

  “STOP! Drop your weapons! No sudden movements!” yelled a prison guard with a laser rifle trained on Whisper.

  She held up her hands.

  Jonas followed her lead.

  The guard called into his ear comm asking for backup.

  I can’t go back. I don’t want to… Jonas adjusted his grip on his sword hilt, ready to activate his torch blade.

  “Wait for the backup,” she said softly enough that only Jonas could hear.

  “Drop your weapons. I will not repeat myself.”

  Whisper nodded at Jonas.

  They both lowered their torch blades.

  Two other guards joined the first.

  “Take their w
eapons,” said the first guard. “Bind their hands.”

  Jonas ignored the approaching guards and fixed his eyes on Whisper. In a barely perceptible movement, she removed three small blue orbs from her waistband. The speed in how they came into her possession made Jonas wonder if she had a quickness neuromod. Before Jonas could form his next thought, Whisper tossed the three marble-sized spheres at the feet of each guard.

  Instantly, the guards floated into the air and tumbled as if gravity lost its effect on them. Ribbons of crimson light originated from the spheres, wrapping around each guard, binding their limbs.

  Jonas opened his mouth intending to say something, but no words came out.

  In the next moment, three grunts sounded as gravity reclaimed the bodies of the guards, slamming them into the metal floor. All three were knocked unconscious from the fall.

  Whisper stood behind the last guard with a smirk on her face.

  Jonas held his head sideways. Amazing…

  “Grab the weapons!” Whisper yelled and waved Jonas over.

  Could this be a dream? Neuromods can make you fast, but not THAT fast. “Why are you helping me?” Jonas stared at Whisper without blinking.

  She groaned. “Shall we make a deal? Help me help you escape, and I’ll answer your questions later.” Whisper tapped her feet. “Jonas, I need you to be faster than this.”