by Eric Warren
TEMPEST RISING:
INFINITY’S END BOOK 2
ERIC WARREN
Part of the Sovereign Coalition Universe
TEMPEST RISING – INFINITY’S END BOOK 2
Copyright © 2019 by Eric C. Warren All rights reserved.
Book design and SCAS logo are trademarks of Eric Warren Author, LLC.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means electronic, mechanical, printing, photocopying, recording, chiseling into stone, or otherwise, without the written permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. For information regarding permission contact the publisher.
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Table of Contents
The Sovereign Coalition Series
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1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
DARKEST REACH Sneak Preview
Map Piece
Map Key
Glossary
Author's Note
About the Author
To my sister Katie
The Sovereign Coalition Series
Short Stories
CASPIAN’S GAMBIT: An Infinity’s End Story
SOON’S FOLLY: An Infinity’s End Story
Novels
INFINITY’S END SAGA
CASPIAN’S FORTUNE (BOOK 1)
TEMPEST RISING (BOOK 2)
DARKEST REACH (BOOK 3)
JOURNEY’S EDGE (BOOK 4)
The Quantum Gate Series
Short Stories
PROGENY (BOOK 0)
Novels
SINGULAR (BOOK 1)
DUALITY (BOOK 2)
TRIALITY (BOOK 3)
DISPARITY (BOOK 4)
CAUSALITY (BOOK 5)
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1
Caspian Robeaux wasn’t used to this.
Typically, when he sat at a bar and drank himself into a stupor the place was a seedy hole-in-the-wall. The type of place where illegal transactions were the norm and everyone who came in either looked like they wanted to fuck you or kill you. A place where he could disappear into the back wall and no one would give him another glance.
But this wasn’t that place.
The bar was too clean, too sanitary for his likes. An automated bartender stood behind the polished wood surface separating them, waiting to take Cas’s next order. When he’d come down to the concourse to get away from it all he’d hoped he’d be able to find a place to hide out for a couple of hours until he could get his head straight. But staring into the yellow eyes of the bartender as it glared back, he couldn’t help but wonder if the bartender himself was a deterrent. As if he’d been placed there to make the patrons uncomfortable and keep them from overstaying their welcome. Perhaps that was how the Coalition kept their officers from getting drunk all the time. Back when he’d still been one, he’d never ventured in a place like this. It wasn’t until after his arrest, parole, and escape-slash-exile before he started frequenting imbibing establishments. And sure, maybe the Sargan Commonwealth wasn’t the safest place in the galaxy, and you had to carry a blaster on your person at all times, but they knew how to set up a bar. And mix a drink.
“This tastes a little weak,” he remarked, hoping to give the machine something to do.
“I apologize, sir. Would you like me to fix you another? I can adjust—”
“Just, pour another shot in this one, will you?” Cas pushed the small glass away from him.
“Yes, sir.”
Cas glanced around the rest of the bar. It was empty, which didn’t surprise him. These were duty hours after all; he wouldn’t expect a bunch of Coalition officers to be skipping work to day-drink. It wasn’t their style. And that was fine with him. It was a good thing Admiral Sanghvi had called him into his office early in the day, because after his news, Cas needed something strong and he didn’t want to have to push through a throng of people to get it.
“There you go, sir,” the machine said, pushing the drink back toward him. Cas had been too distracted to watch and see if he had added anything substantial to the glass or not. He picked it up and gave it a swirl before knocking the contents back into his throat, nearly coughing on the burn. “Better?”
Cas cleared his throat as the warmth traveled down his esophagus where it disappeared into the acid of his stomach. “Yeah. One more just like that.”
“I’m sorry, sir. You have reached your daily allotment. You may return for another in seventeen hours, fifteen minutes.” The bartender picked up the empty glass and it disappeared below the other side of the bar.
He should have expected this. “Fine. Then I’ll take a bottle for the road.” Cas glanced up to the hundreds of bottles of liquid perched on shelves behind the bartender, each varying in color and label. Alcohol from all over the Coalition.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the machine repeated. “But bottles are only available for ranking officers.”
“What if I said I used to be a Lieutenant Commander, would that make any difference?” Cas asked, slightly slurring the words.
“Only current ranking officers may access alcohol stores.” The machine’s eyes blinked on and off once; an indication Cas’s question had now been reported somewhere. Ever since he’d found and modified his robotic traveling companion, Box, he’d become accustomed to their mannerisms. Where most humans saw a machine’s eyes go out momentarily, Cas knew it was the signal that something inappropriate had happened or was about to happen, and someone needed to be notified.
He grumbled, wishing Box were here at the moment. He could shove right past the bartender and grab as many bottles as he wanted; or at least push him out of the way long enough for Cas to grab a Firebrand or Scorb.
“Is there anything else I can do for you today, sir?” the bartender asked.
Cas stood, his legs wobbling under him as he pushed himself off the stool. “I guess not,” he replied, preparing to reach over to pay. He withdrew his hand at the last moment, remembering where he was. The Coalition worked without money. Service is its own reward. The mantra had been drilled into his head from the academy. But experiencing life outside the Coalition had shown him a different reality. One where people were motivated by money, and greed, and the accumulation of goods. And sure, sometimes maybe someone got a little overzealous and put out a hit on someone for not paying their bill, or stole someone else’s transport to sell for spare parts, but were things really worse in the Sargan Commonwealth than in the Coalition? If you stripped everything down wasn’t a little bit of murder and th
eft worth being able to drink as much as you wanted?
Cas’s communicator beeped. “Boss?” Box said on the other end.
“Speak of the devil,” Cas said, tapping the small device on his arm.
“I’ve been pinging you for the last hour. The Winston left without us.”
Cas sighed, stopping at the door to the bar to stare out into the concourse where civilians milled about, moving from shop to restaurant to shop again. While Starbase Eight did have a contingent of permanent civilians, most of these people would be family members of Coalition officers, or off-duty personnel taking in the beauty of the station. He was the only one who was neither. “Yeah. Something happened. I’ll tell you about it when I get back.” Cas ended the call, closed his eyes, and pressed his fingers to his temples. Box deserved to know the truth, and Cas shouldn’t have left him waiting on a loading dock for a ship he knew they wouldn’t be taking any more. But after the meeting with the admiral, their trip to Procyon on the USCS Winston had been the last thing on his mind. He and Box had been about to board when the call had come in for him to meet the admiral in his office. And when he got there—
“There he is,” a low, gruff voice came from somewhere off to the right.
Cas’s eyes snapped open, his vision swam for a bit as the room righted itself. Three large men approached him from the concourse, their eyes fixated on him.
Oh shit. Maybe coming down here without an escort hadn’t been such a good idea. Most people considered him a criminal, and with good reason. Cas took a step back into the bar, trying to remember if he’d seen a back exit or not. He didn’t think he had. His comm chirped again but he ignored it.
The man in the front spoke up again first. “You think after what you did you can come in here and waltz around like you’re a regular person?” He had at least six inches on Cas and looked like he might bench press small shuttles for fun. He was in civilian clothes but Cas knew, even through the fog of inebriation, they were officers.
“Listen,” Cas said, backing up further into the bar with his hands up. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you deserted,” the one on the right said. He was smaller, but still a hefty guy. Had the three strongest guys on the station got together and decided on an old-fashioned beatdown?
“How is he even allowed to be down here?” the third one asked. He wore a shirt so tight Cas could see his pectoral muscles tighten and loosen as they grew ever closer.
“I guess you haven’t heard.” Cas took a few steps back but kept his eyes on the man’s pecs. Through his inebriation it seemed like the safest place to look. “My warrant was rescinded.”
“Yeah, by who?” the first one said, only a few steps away from Cas now.
“Admiral Sanghvi,” he replied, stopping as his back reached the bar.
“How can I help you today, gentlemen?” the bartender asked from behind him.
“What the hell are you staring at?” the third one asked, having finally noticed Cas’s gaze.
“Your…” Cas put his hands out in front of him, making a circular motion with them. “Are very nice.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “I mean why else wear a tight shirt if you don’t want to show them off?”
“George, I think he’s making fun of you,” the one in the front said.
“No, that’s not what I meant at all!” Cas said, scrambling. He wished he hadn’t had that second Firebrand. “All I was saying was you should be proud of yourself. It takes commitment to go to the gym every day. Or in your case, five or six times a day.”
“I don’t care if you were pardoned or not.” The middle one stuck a finger in Cas’s chest. “We don’t tolerate deserters in the Coalition.”
Now this was more like it. Cas had been in his fair share of fights with the Sargans, and because there were virtually no police, other than the Guard, fights tended to be final. It gave the fighters a healthy respect for each other. Not like these guys. These guys were nothing but bullies with extra time on their hands. And since he was backed up to the bar, there was only one way out.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I came back.” Cas pulled back and plowed his head into the face of the man in the middle, his forehead connected with the man’s nose in a sickening crunch.
“My fucking nose!” the man yelled as blood splattered everywhere. Cas reeled to the right, holding his own head as he stumbled and eventually fell on the ground, his forehead pounding with pain. Wasn’t headbutting supposed to hurt only the attacked, not the attacker?
“George, Ivory!” the man yelled, his words wet with fury. Cas pushed himself into a half-standing position and reached for his boomcannon, only realizing too late it wasn’t there. Weapons weren’t allowed in Coalition facilities. And as this realization washed over him striking a match to his adrenaline, something large and solid plowed into him, knocking them both back into a series of tables that toppled as they fell. Something metal dug into his side and he cried out in pain while pounding on what he suspected was the man’s head, but he couldn’t be sure. George or Ivory, depending on which one hit him, was all muscle and everything felt like hitting a steel beam covered by a thin layer of cloth.
Pain exploded in his head again, this time from blunt-force trauma and white dots peppered his vision. It was a good thing he was drunk otherwise he’d be in a lot more pain than he was. Another explosion of pain knocked some of the inebriation away as his adrenaline kicked into overdrive, willing his body to get out of the very bad situation he’d found himself in. He kicked with his legs but nothing connected while a robotic voice in the background was saying something urgent. But it seemed his ears weren’t quite working like they were supposed to as he couldn’t make out the words. All he could discern were the white dots and the increasing levels of pain in his face as something plowed into it over and over again.
This would be the fight that would kill him. And it was all because of the Coalition and their stupid rules about no weapons. Had this been a Sargan bar, it would have been over in seconds.
As he felt himself drift further and further into unconsciousness, the pounding finally stopped. Just in time for him to take a nap.
2
“He’s going to need a few hours rest, the alcohol still isn’t completely out of his system.”
Evelyn Diazal stared at the guard in horror. “Screw the alcohol, what about his face?”
“What about it?” the guard asked, unperturbed. She glanced at her station.
“It’s a mess! He needs medical attention!”
The guard shrugged. “He was the instigator of a violent crime on the concourse and injured two Coalition officers in the process. After he sobers up, we’ll be processing him and handing him over to Coalition military for long-term imprisonment.”
Evie threw up her hands, her dark brown braid falling off her shoulder and back behind her. “This is ridiculous. You can’t possibly think he would take on three men larger than himself in a fight.”
“If he was drunk enough he would. Scans indicate his BA level at point-three-one.”
Evie scowled. “That’s impossible. The bartender is set to cut anyone off after two drinks. And no two drinks combined are that strong.”
“He must have forced his way past the bartender. We got an alert he was inquiring about taking a bottle from the shelf for himself after repeated refusals from the bartender. I can only assume he got his hands on it.”
This was infuriating. “Do you have this bottle? Better yet, let me see the surveillance footage. I want to see him steal this bottle, drink it, then pick a fight.”
The guard faltered. “I’m sorry, Commander, I can’t—”
“That’s an order. Now,” Evie said, her eyes stern on the guard.
She let out a long, slow breath and tapped a few buttons on the console in front of her, bringing up the video footage. It showed Cas sitting at the bar, then standing as the bartender took his empty glass away. He seemed to talk
to someone on his comm for a moment before turning to leave. A moment later he backed up into frame again, this time with the three other men bearing down on him, his hands up. One of them stuck a finger in Cas’s chest, to which he responded by headbutting the man, then toppling over to the ground. The other two tackled Cas at the same time and began beating his face in until the concourse guards arrived and pulled the men off him. The feed ended.
Evie turned to the guard, heat radiating from every part of her skin. The guard averted her eyes, staring off at the ceiling. “Get him out of there. Right now,” Evie growled.
“But he began the altercation,” the guard protested. “He made the first move. Surely we can’t—?”
“Either he’s out of there in five seconds or I’m taking this directly to the admiral. The same admiral who gave this man a full pardon not more than five days ago.”
“Oh, he’s…I see. Yes.” The guard fumbled, her hands working over the controls. The suspension field between Evie and the cell dropped, yet Cas remained splayed out on the shelf that served as a bed.
“And I want the names of those other officers. I’ll be putting in a formal complaint for harassment on each of them,” Evie added. “I don’t suppose they’re still here.”
The guard shook her head. “I released them an hour ago.”
“Unbelievable,” Evie muttered under her breath. She walked over to Cas and sat on the bench beside him. He groaned as she pushed his legs to the side. His face was covered in bruises and one of his eyes had swollen to the point where he probably couldn’t open it if he wanted to. She smacked him on the side.
“Nnnggh,” he said, attempting to turn over, but not making much progress and flopping back on his back again.
“Are you crazy? Why did you even come down here without an escort?” Evie asked.
“Sssleep,” he mumbled. Evie gave him a hard smack on both his cheeks. “Ow, ow!” His one eye fluttered open. “C’mander Evelyn Diazal! What a pleasure t’ see you!”
Evie rolled her eyes and turned back to the guard. “What’s his real BA level?”