Terror at Roschin Colony

by Scott Lucas

  Terror at Roschin Colony

  Space Paladin Series: Book 1

  Scott Lucas

  Copyright © 2019 Shadowleaf Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781692755799

  DEDICATION

  TBD

  .

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One: Trouble at Terradol Starport

  Chapter Two: Encounter at the Rookery

  Chapter Three: The Job

  Chapter Four: Mollastian Fields

  Chapter Five: Noble Heart

  Chapter Six: First Night at Roschin Colony

  Chapter Seven: A View from the Watchtower

  Chapter Eight: Med Lab

  Chapter Nine: The Shipment is Ready

  Chapter Ten: Analysis of the Battle

  Chapter Eleven: War Plans

  Chapter Twelve: An Internal Disruption

  Chapter Thirteen: Siege on the Tower

  Chapter Fourteen: Evacuation

  Chapter Fifteen: Kill Switch

  Chapter Sixteen: Pirates

  Chapter Seventeen: Fringes of the Universe

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to my beta readers

  Chapter One: Trouble at Terradol Starport

  Temirlan Blaev piloted the Wyvern Star toward the disorganized jumble of Terradol Starport. The architectural equivalent of a cesspool at the end of the galaxy.

  Tem never imagined setting foot inside Terradol Starport, known as a den for harboring space pirates and thieves. It was the black market capital of the galaxy. Unfortunately, this particular starport did not possess mass scanning capabilities and scanned into the starport one ship at a time. Tem waited in a long line. However, desperate times called for desperate measures.

  The ship’s registration had expired months earlier, and the last few checkpoints had been a close call. Tem suspected that he owed his clearance to the laziness and boredom of checkpoint officials. Tem’s registration would display as odd to an attendant scanning ships’ codes, but not anomalous enough for a raised red flag for suspicious criminal activity. However, Tem required new and updated registration immediately. He did not know how long his luck would last.

  Tem spoke to the AI of his ship as it inched closer to the spaceport docking doors. “Get ready to run if this doesn’t work, Wyv.”

  The ship’s feminine voice came over the speaker. “Escape route plotted.”

  Tem’s would not be so worried if his only concern was an expired registration. However, he had stolen the Wyvern Star and he was a wanted man by the new reigning theocratic government.

  Tem powered down the Wyvern Star, hovered in line, waited for clearance, and let the tractor beam pull her into the station. The Wyvern Star was an old, but well-maintained Osprey Class Starfighter. The Osprey Class fighters were fast, heavily armed, long-range fighters designed to enable a pilot to swoop into hostile areas for a quick pick up, and soar to post-orbital space quickly.

  Another eight minutes passed before Tem received a message from the control tower.

  “Greetings. Your ship is the Wyvern Star, owned and piloted by a Mr. Odo Destramand, commercial freighter pilot. You claim the ship’s cargo bay is empty. Is this correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “What brings you to Terradol today, Mr. Odo Destramand?”

  “Business.”

  “Very good. C-7810,” the attendant replied in a condescending tone. “Clearance granted. Please proceed to hangar 117B. Power down your ship if you have not already done so. Thank you and have a nice day.”

  Tem switched off the comm system. His hand was shaking. He closed his fist and took deep, slow breaths to relax as the Wyvern Star drifted toward the hangar. Approaching an inconsequential blip at the galaxy’s nether region was proving almost too risky. However, he needed this job for not only the money, but also something else his contact had promised — falsified registration tags and a new identity.

  When the Battle of the Black Rose became a failed last stand, his master, Brother Odo Destramand pointed to an Osprey Class fighter.

  “RUN!” The old man shouted as he died.

  Tem ran to the ship his fallen master indicated and stole it. He had been flying the Wyvern Star ever since.

  Tem had once held the title of a Paladin, a paragon of virtue and hope throughout the Realm, but the Paladins had become pariahs during the fateful Decimation Night and their light dimmed throughout the galaxy.

  The Paladins were an elite group trained to protect the Realm and safely transport travelers along treacherous space routes. During the heaviest days of fighting, The Order had assigned Tem to convoy refugees from planets decimated by the conflict. Tem survived the Battle of the Black Rose, where the Order fell. After three years of hiding, the lost Paladin had not met another former member of the Order. For all he knew, he was the Order’s sole survivor.

  The Wyvern Star coasted into an empty bay near the far end of 117-B hangar, chiefly unnoticed in the bustling Terradol Starport.

  A closer inspection did not improve his opinion of the station. The cavernous hangar bustled with activity, yet claustrophobic at the same time with too many people in a confined space.

  “Wyv, check my suit.” Tem stood up from the pilot’s seat and stretched.

  Wyv scanned the Paladin’s protective suit. The Paladin’s suit protected the elite knight from harsh environmental elements, such as the vacuum of space, and served as protective battle armor.

  It was almost time to meet his contact. He had earned from years of hard work, blood, sweat and tears, and dedicated service to the Order and to the Realm. He sighed and said, “Wyv, how’s my suit?”

  “Battle suit fully charged.”

  Tem donned his protective suit, and draped a smog-stained, black cloak over his protective suit as he left the cockpit.

  Over two meters tall, Tem was a formidable presence and the battle-scarred suit added to his dangerous mystique. He had emerged from literal firestorms thanks to the plexi-carbon graphene plates housing his body.

  Tem paused in the hatchway at the rear of the Wyvern Star, because of a locker that hung ajar, empty save for a helmet of the same unidentifiable color as the suit he wore. Its vizor was thick, mirrored plexi-carbon graphene cradled by the skull of the helmet which tapered backward slightly in a manner reminiscent of wings. Tem opened the locker and looked at the helmet. He glimpsed his own face, older and more strained than deserved.

  The helmet and rocket system had allowed him to travel short distances and survive in the vacuum of space when necessary. The suit and helmet provided an emergency escape, even if cut off from the Wyvern Star. His black cloak with interior red lining over his armored space suit helped to provide some camouflage as long as no one looked directly at him.

  He shut the locker door and stepped down the hatchway into the hangar outside.

  Inside the crowded landing bay the Wyvern Star was one of the smaller crafts to have just arrived. Tem wound his way through the bustling crowds, and had to shove through a swarm of confused, lost, and nervous passengers who arrived colony ship.

  A crippled, cybernetic man held out his hand for the Wyvern Star’s temporary ignition chip. Tem handed it over, requesting, “I’d like fuel and a minor tune-up.”

  “Yes, sir.” One of the maintenance men stared for a moment longer than usual at Tem’s armor beneath the cloak. Tem covered his suit.

  Tem made his way to the checkpoint beyond the hangar’s interior doors and slipped in among the group of colonists. He did his best to be innocuous, slumping his shoulders and looking at the floor, but the former Paladin still stood out among them, his armor broadening his shoulders beneath the cloak. However, he was not as conspicuous as a lo
ne man would have been striding up to the gate.

  He waited among the squabbling group for several minutes. Tem scanned the starport, noticing its features, its structures, and the strange humanoids among the crowds. He did not glance at anyone long enough or look anyone in the eye.

  At the gate, Tem presented the false identification chip that Ahmad Bashir had shipped to him via star-courier. He was nervous, but had mastered the look of boredom that a typical freighter pilot wore as they scanned his credentials through a series of a hundred star ports as he waited for clearance.

  While the blue-suited attendant at the counter scanned the chip, Tem covertly glanced from the screen to the man’s face. He had no gift for reading expressions. He tried to reassure himself, recalling how highly Ahmad had spoken of the hacker who stripped this identity off the Nets.

  Tem’s mind considered all the terrible events that might follow this moment if something went wrong. He might be thrown into prison. He might be shot on sight, or worse, he might be brought before the Star Chamber. Before the Clement Wars, young knights feared capture and torture by hostile forces, despite their training to withstand torture. However, The Star Chamber Tribunal had perfected its methods of causing exquisite agony to its prisoners, specializing in lost Paladins. Given the choice, Tem preferred to die a swift and glorious death in battle rather than the slow, dehumanizing ordeal in which death was an elusive mercy.

  The attendant glanced at Tem and glanced back at the credentials.

  Tem said nothing. He maintained a blank expression as sweat dripped down his back.

  The attendant waved a colleague over and discussed something Tem could not hear. Both attendants stared at Tem, who slowly moved his hand to his holster.

  “Are you Odo Destamand?” The first attendant inquired.

  “Y-yes.” Tem wished he had not stuttered. He tried to make up for it with a renewed look of indifference. The attendants and Tem locked in a hostile staring contest.

  “What the yark is the problem here?” A smaller piggish-looking man standing behind Tem shouted. “Get a move on! The Lugheon games are starting at the Quasar and these yarking tickets weren’t cheap!”

  Others waiting behind the small piggish-looking man started complaining loudly. There was a long line behind Tem.

  “What’ya waiting for, the next seasonal cycle?” the person behind the piggish man shouted.

  “If I miss the opening Storpin of the Lugheon games because of you, I’ll space your ass!”

  The first attendant sighed and then shrugged with an ‘I-don’t-get-paid-enough-to-care’ gesture and opened the gate.

  “Move along,” the second attendant said and motioned with his head for Tem to get moving.

  Tem closed his eyes and sighed. He paused before he took the ID chip back and nodded. The small piggish man behind him had already pushed his way forward. Tem quickly moved into the warren of the spaceport.

  Terradol Starport began as a watchtower and gateway above the planet Uyopisha. The watchtower was only large enough to accommodate a skeleton crew whose job was to allow acceptable ships to pass through and serve as a warning system for the planetary defenses. The station grew along with the increased traffic heading into Uyopisha space until most incoming traffic visited the station and not the planet a necessity when Terradol added an ore processing facility during the early days when a miner discovered valuable Zostriacium ore on the third moon of Uyopisha. Zostriacium, the Ore of the New Age, powered the star-drive engines far more efficiently than any other known energy source.

  The Terradol Starport branched out into multiple directions constructed from dozens of domes resembling a vertical snowflake with a much-improved watchtower in the center. The starport resembled a fractured snowflake compromising of scraps with entire portions tacked on as an afterthought; a collection of disparate domes snapped together by a disorganized child who grew tired of the project and abandoned it. Each separate dome connected to every other dome by passageways, which sealed automatically if one dome experienced a sudden breach.

  Terradol Spaceport became a bustling city in space, and often the second or third most populated city near Uyopisha. The spaceport, like any other city, had its rich and poor sections. The rich lived at the top or upper parts of the Terradol snowflake, whereas the poorer denizens lived on the lower branches. Tem headed to the lower sections of Terradol.

  The Paladin wove his way through the spaceport to see his contact using both horizontal and vertical lifts through the station. Although the starport now served as a terminal for intergalactic travelers, telltale signs of its ore processing past remained. A long-stopped conveyer belt stretched across the network of streets, still dangling a few tubs for the transport of newly mined material whose supply was dwindling.

  Consistent expeditions to uncharted planets created a chain of colonies, and travel from planet to planet had become a norm for prospectors who wished to thrive.

  The crowded streets buzzed with all variety of street vendors peddling noodles, exotic fruits, scrap-peddlers, water, and illegal narcotics, including many skiff drivers who zipped their puttering scooters around and above the press of people. Most of the buildings contained shops, eateries, and housing. The buildings towered straining for the distant ceiling. Tem understood why Ahmad had chosen this place to meet. No one really belonged here, and a strange traveler of any description was more likely to go unnoticed among the constant traffic of oddities.

  Chapter Two: Encounter at the Rookery

  A speeding scooter veered too close to a curb and clipped Tem’s shoulder. If the Paladin had not been wearing his illegal armored suit, the scooter would have ripped off his arm. Tem jerked back a pace, and the scooter wobbled erratically and unseated its reptilian-looking rider into the gutter.

  “What it, you yarking slersh!” The small, lizard-like man screamed.

  Tem ignored the insult and kept moving.

  Tem glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the rider, making sure his eyes had not deceived him. The rider who clipped him wore a gold coat. Tem paused, and kept on moving. Not even the most remote planets or spaceports were free of the Star Chamber’s influence.

  With his armor, he would be a challenge to defeat if he met with anyone who harbored enough hatred for The Order. Many of Tem’s brother knights claimed that the suit’s designers infused the armor with The Order’s power, but most merely owned that the suit was tough to puncture.

  Tem felt safe, unless confronted with a Chamber Assassin wielding a Diamond Blade. Tem had seen such a blade once, and at quite a distance, but his memory still carried the ice of it.

  Tem’s hands sweated inside his gauntlets. Reluctantly, he removed the gauntlets and put them into his pack. It was a change from the many hours he had spent as a young knight out in the open of Fable’s beaches, and before that on the coasts of Morgann during his early childhood. When the Clement Wars had summoned The Order to the stars, he had lived in ships and spaceports like Terradol. Tem glanced up at the high ceiling. One of the hanging lights flickered. He would have given some blood to see a true sky or breathe the free air.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The mutated lizard-like man in the gold coat swore as his scooter wobbled and was ready to pull out his hidden diamond blade and carve out the mindless pedestrian before he glimpsed an old Paladin suit as the pedestrian turned around. The lizard-like man was so startled he almost crashed his scooter. The pedestrian might as well be wearing a suit of z-ore. The suit, even if not the correct color, would sell for a pretty bundle, as would the bounty of the man wearing it.

  “Whoa,” the lizard-man whispered, amazed. “The boss needs to hear about this.”

  He zipped toward the nearest side street and glanced around the corner. It took him a moment to pick out the Paladin in the crowd. He wore a black cloak over his suit. The lizard-man shook as he considered how much the bounty was worth. He watched closely as the Paladin stepped into a bar at the corner of the street.

  The
lizard man turned back onto the main street.

  “Hey, you!” An immense hippo-like man dressed in a security uniform yelled.

  “What? I ain’t done nothing!” The lizard-like man protested, and noticed that he still held the knife. He also noticed the larger man’s hand straying toward the stun-baton at his side.

  “Drop the weapon,” demanded the security officer.

  “Do you see this?” the lizard-like man pointed to a black rose pendant on his lapel. “Do you know what this means?”

  The hippo-man tightened his grip on the stun baton. “You can discuss it with the security chief.”

  “Oh, come on!” The lizard-like man glanced toward the bar where the Paladin had disappeared. This one bounty would feed him for years.

  “Drop the weapon,” said the hippo-man. He pulled the stun-baton.

  “Okay, okay!” the lizard-like man held up both hands. He suppressed a smug smile. “I’ll drop it.”

  He dropped the knife. It clattered onto the ground. The security officer returned his stun baton to its holster.

  The lizard man stepped over the weapon toward the security officer, his hands raised in submission. Behind him, his long tail discreetly wrapped around the handle of the knife.

  “You’re not gonna cuff me, I hope,” he whined. “That would be embarrassing.”

  “It’s a formality, I’m afraid,” said the security officer.

  “Oh, well.” The lizard-man dramatically held out his wrists. “If you must, you must.”

  The hippo-man removed a set of cuffs from his belt and stepped toward the lizard-man. In a swift motion, the lizard-like man’s tail lashed over his head toward the hippo-man.

  The security officer staggered back, choking with the diamond blade shredding his throat. The lizard-like man retracted the knife as the heavy body dropped. With a glance in either direction, he hopped back onto his scooter.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he cackled toward the Rookery Tavern, before he zoomed toward Black Rose headquarters.