The Corsair Uprising Collection, Books 1-3

by Trevor Schmidt

  Ju-Long saw Riken’s legs tighten, ready for a charge, and he took advantage of the opening. When Riken rushed he slid out of the way, catching the Dinari in the side with a well-placed punch. Riken staggered and Ju-Long went to work, using the Dinari’s open posture to land blow after blow. Finally, Ju-Long stopped and Riken took several steps back, swaying with the slight breeze.

  The crowd was louder than ever now, chanting Ju-Long’s name so that he could hear nothing else except the beat of his own heart, popping through his chest. His fingers tingled with excitement and he tightened his fists once more, the barbs glowing with the blue arcs connecting the points. Ju-Long edged closer, wary of a feint by his rough opponent.

  Riken’s eyes squinted and then grew as though trying to maintain focus. His fists fell to his sides and the electricity in the barbs dissipated. A strong gust of wind blew past, bringing with it specs of Garuda’s fine sand. Riken tried to plant his feet to keep his balance but instead toppled to one knee. He clutched his side with one clawed hand and slowly brought it up to his eye line. His claws were stained red and speckled with dust from the coming dust storm. Riken’s eyes closed and then opened slightly, focusing on Ju-Long before he fell over onto his side.

  The crowd erupted in a chorus of screams and chants for Ju-Long, not only the first outsider to fight in the tournament, but the first to win. The announcer, Kiln, joined Ju-Long at the center of the ring and raised Ju-Long’s hand up into the air.

  The announcer took a sip of strong-smelling alcohol from his flask and declared, “It gives me, Kiln, legendary fighter of the ring—”

  The rabid masses threw strangely shaped vegetables at the washed up fighter, one star-shaped tuber hit Kiln square in the face. Finally, the Dinari announcer relented and declared, “Our winner, Ju-Long Ma of Earth!”

  Kiln took another swig of alcohol and offered some to Ju-Long, who was too enraptured with the crowd to respond. Here on Garuda, he was somebody. He wasn’t an engineer to be used by Vesta Corporation or anyone else. He was admired for something he could do. Ju-Long approached the edge of the crowd and raised his arms up high, soaking in the attention. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure in a long cloak that obscured their face. He saw the wearer’s blue hands move the hood back to reveal a toothy smile. Astrid had come to watch despite the risk. She blew him a sensual kiss. He could get used to that.

  •

  Liam stood at the edge of the glass, looking down hundreds of stories to the mass of people below. He couldn’t tell who had won, but it was clear the fight was over. It wasn’t ideal, but there wouldn’t be a better time to have this difficult conversation. Liam turned to his left and regarded Toras, Caretaker of Garuda Colony. His sand-colored cape covered his right shoulder and came off at an angle from the center of his back, still frayed and patchy despite his elevated position.

  “My eyes around the system tell me you’ve done us a great service,” Toras said. “The Nightstalkers won’t pose a threat to us anytime soon.”

  “You know that’s not why I’m here.”

  Toras nodded and looked back out the window to the masses below and the approaching dust storm. He said, “Yes. What you’re asking is not easily accomplished. Do you know the implications of such a thing?”

  Liam smiled and replied, “Believe me, I’m aware.”

  “With this information and the routing of the Nightstalkers, you’ve given me two favors today. An Ansaran does not forget.”

  “Then it’s settled?”

  Toras extended his hand and Liam took it firmly in his own. The Ansaran said, “It will be done, Liam Kidd.”

  Liam nodded and released the Ansaran’s hand. Making deals, whether underground or atop the highest tower, wasn’t Liam’s preferred mode of operation. In fact, it felt like something Zega should be doing. Still, he had to look out for his crew any way he knew how.

  Toras held a finger to his ear and nodded. He said, “It appears your friend has won the tournament. A feat indeed for an outsider.”

  Liam smirked and said, “I’d expect nothing less.”

  He held the Ansaran’s gaze for a moment before turning and making off across the cold marble toward the large entryway.

  Toras called after him, “Do not fear the night, Liam Kidd. What’s coming will come regardless of our feelings toward it. Best to face it straight on.”

  Liam turned his head while he continued to walk and said, “It’s Captain, and don’t forget it.” He felt the Caretaker’s stare upon his back as he left the room. Liam found the stone platform and knelt down in the center. It glowed purple along its edges before descending speedily down the spire, curving along the outside like a screw. Liam pressed a button on his earpiece and said, “It’s done.”

  “Good,” Zega’s voice replied in his ear. “Good.”

  •

  “He’s gone,” Toras said, staring out the window at the rioting masses below.

  The small mercenary came around the side of a thick stone pillar, the sun gleaming off his blue scaled outfit. He joined Toras at the window and handed him a flat circular object that took up half of his palm. The mercenary pressed the center button and the orange glow of a hologram projected up in front of the Caretaker’s face.

  “What’s this?” Toras asked?

  The mercenary looked up to Toras from behind his black visor and replied with his distorted voice, “A message.”

  The orange glow turned into the visage of Caretaker Ruen of Taleris. His hands were clasped together and he appeared distraught, with deep blue circles under his bulging eyes. Caretaker Ruen’s voice sounded metallic through the little device, but the message was clear enough. He said, “Caretaker Ragnar, dear cousin, I apologize that we’ve fallen out of touch but I’m contacting you with a most urgent matter. Astrid has been taken by a misfit group of outsiders. I don’t know what they intend to do with her, but if they find out her true purpose they could expose us all. I have my best scouts looking for her and I would urge you to do the same. Until we meet again, cousin.”

  The orange hologram dissipated and the circular disc was silent. Toras handed the device back to the small mercenary and turned back to the wall of windows. He asked the man, “You’re sure Ragnar is dead?”

  He nodded his oblong helmet, remaining silent.

  “And you didn’t have the heart to tell Ruen?”

  The mercenary cocked his head and placed his hands behind his back.

  “Good work. I’ll see that a bonus makes its way to you.”

  The small man nodded and made for the exit without another word. Toras called after him, “Don’t go far. I’ll be requiring your services again soon.”

  The mercenary continued toward the elevator without acknowledging the Caretaker’s words, sunlight glinting briefly off the partially obscured blade that hung along the curve of his back. Anger bubbled up inside Toras. He might have been from a lesser House, but he should still command respect from his employs. If that small man were anyone else an example would have been made of him. Something about the man put Toras ill-at-ease. If the stories he’d heard were true, the small mercenary was the one person in the system he didn’t want to risk crossing. The person who’d recommended the mercenary had said that anyone who intentionally crossed him had a death wish.

  Toras took one last look out the window at the dispersing crowd and stepped back to his desk, his footsteps clacking against the hard stone. In his chair, he clasped his fingers together and collected his thoughts. He recalled back to Ragnar’s reign and the strange visitors he’d received. One in particular stuck out to him. She was known as The Heiress, but for all Toras knew it could have been a fiat title. He’d heard Astrid’s name mentioned before but he couldn’t place it. Toras didn’t believe in coincidence. He unlocked his fingers and laid his hands flat on the chilly stone desk. Liam Kidd was making a habit of causing trouble. Unfortunately for his human friend, Toras of House Zumora also specialized in causing trouble.

  Note fro
m the Author

  I hope you liked the second installment of The Corsair Uprising Space Opera Series! If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author's best friend and is much appreciated.

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  Amazon

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  The Corsair Uprising #3:

  Death Wish

  Collected Works of Trevor Schmidt

  The Corsair Uprising Space Opera Series:

  The Corsair Uprising #1: The Azure Key

  The Corsair Uprising #2: Nightstalkers

  The Corsair Uprising #3: Death Wish

  The Corsair Uprising #4: The Lost Corsair

  Science Fiction Novels:

  Symbiote

  Memory Leak

  Short Fiction:

  The Chosen (A Novelette)

  Replica (A Short Story)

  (Replica is Always Free on Amazon, BN.com, and Smashwords)

  Nonfiction:

  Your Time: 10 Principles for Managing Time Before Time Manages You

  Death Wish

  Trevor Schmidt

  United States of America

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and not intended to represent real people or places. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher.

  The Corsair Uprising #3: Death Wish

  Copyright © 2015 by Trevor Schmidt

  Cover iStock Photo by Diane555 (Canada)

  Contact the Author

  Website: Trevorschmidtauthor.com

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  Twitter: @TrevorSSchmidt

  Last time…

  Stranded in a distant part of the Milky Way Galaxy, Captain Liam Kidd, along with fellow humans Saturn Vera and Ju-Long Ma, fought to locate The Azure Key, the device responsible for thrusting them across space. They were not alone. Three alien species were teetering on the edge, ready to reignite a war that had been waged for more than a thousand years.

  The Ansarans, blue-skinned with heavily modified genomes, dominated the star system. Their cousins were the Dinari, a distant genetic relative with scaled skin and large yellow eyes that saw far more than their masters gave them credit. Finally, there were the Kraven, enormous in size and ferocity. Exiled from the common mother world for being too savage, the Kraven sought revenge.

  Captain Kidd and the crew of The Garuda thwarted the Kraven threat, for a time. But, there is more trouble brewing on the desert planet that they’ve come to call home. The struggle for peace has never been more desperate. Now, there’s only one who can tilt the balance of power…

  DEATH WISH

  1

  2142 A.D. – Somewhere Between Earth and Mars

  Saturn Vera toggled the exterior camera on her Hercules-Class freighter, zooming in on an advancing Terran military vessel. She cursed and tightened her brown leather gloves snugly around her hands, feeling the pull of the soft material against her knuckles. Saturn shivered violently and released a breath of frosty air from her lips. The last hit had made the environmental controls go wonky and she couldn’t risk easing off the accelerator to divert power to compensate. Her long brown hair was up in a ponytail, which graced her pale neck. Every time she looked in a mirror she knew she’d been spending too much time in the dark of space. Saturn glanced over at her co-pilot in dismay.

  Liam Kidd sat focused on his console, his wild blond hair angled backward away from his face and his teeth clenched hard so the muscles along his jaw bulged out. Liam wore the dark colors common among those in their less-than-savory trade, with engineered clothes that clung to his body in all the right places. His blue eyes matched the frantically flashing lights on the console.

  Vesta Corporation had sent him along to help her on the mission, but Saturn had a feeling he was only there to keep an eye on her. Still, the view wasn’t bad. Liam hadn’t said much since they’d left Earth, but what he had said was rife with an air of cockiness that left Saturn with strange feelings in her stomach. She blamed it on the condensed space-food Vesta had sent along with them for the three-week trip. Every mouthful was agony.

  The cockpit of Saturn’s freighter was small, fitting only two cheaply-made seats. Most of the time they never had much to do in the small space anyway, with autopilot taking over the bulk of the workload. The technology was dated, but it got the job done. The Hercules-Class was a workhorse, without any of the bells and whistles of the Minerva ships, but Saturn loved it regardless.

  “Did you make the alterations to our engines Vesta specified?” Liam asked her, his voice growing irritated.

  Saturn squinted at her co-pilot and retorted, “Of course I did. Do you think I’m an amateur?”

  “And yet the Terran Military is still closing.”

  “It’s probably just an over-excited Lieutenant fresh out of the academy. Anyone worth anything knows not to mess with a Vesta ship.”

  “That so? Well why don’t we turn around and greet them? Word around the system is you have a golden tongue, maybe you can talk your way out of this mess.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, there haven’t been any demands, only a firing squad. They don’t seem interested in talking.”

  “Well we’ll never outrun them in this thing and we’re not even close to Mars.”

  “Got any bright ideas?”

  Liam eyed her with a smile, his blue eyes beaming.

  “I’ve always got a bright idea.”

  A crash sent Liam and Saturn sprawling out of their seats. Saturn softened her fall with her hands but hit her head on the way down to the floor. Her vision grew fuzzy and the pulsing in her head intensified until she could no longer keep her eyes open.

  •

  2146 A.D. – The Sand’s Edge Bar, Garuda Colony, Planet Garuda

  Saturn shot upright, her eyes wide and a cold sweat permeating her tight white tank top. Her breathing was labored, stunted by the frequent specks of dust floating through the air and coating her windpipe. If there was one thing she hated about her new home it was the inescapable sand. The sleeping quarters was a small room above The Sand’s Edge Bar on the outskirts of Garuda Colony, too far from home for comfort.

  Planet Garuda reminded Saturn of Namibia in Southern Africa, with its mountainous ranges and open desert, sand dunes stretching as far as she could see. She’d traveled to that land of extremes once before on a mission for Vesta Corporation. It was a protection detail for one of Vesta’s Vice Presidents. He had his own personal security while inspecting the mines, but Saturn was contracted as backup in case the local leaders tried to interfere with the deal that was being negotiated. They did.

  Remembering the old times always brought her somewhere between nostalgia and panic. She wiped speckles of sweat from her forehead, the curved screen of her bracer collecting most of the moisture. Sometimes she forgot she was wearing it. Her toned arms were becoming more and more tan with every passing day on the desert planet. It was her Argentinian heritage, she thought, olive skin. The strong sun had even begun to lighten her hair from a darker brown to a more medium tone. It was held back in a ponytail, the way she liked it. Low maintenance.

  She rose up from her thin sleeping mat and twisted her back, cracking it in several places. Their Dinari host had no concept of comfort, but the reptilian alien species was not known for their concern for hospitality. Saturn had seen a lot since she’d come through the wormhole with her two crewmates. At the time, she was surprised she made it through alive, but now her limited view of the universe seemed trite. When she’d arrived with her two human companions, they were immediately thrust into a conflict between three alien species, all spawned from the same genetic tree millennia ago.

  The Dinari were an oppressed race, held down by their cousins, the Ansarans. Though they came from the same home world known as Ansara, upon first glance Saturn wou
ldn’t have been able to guess. Even the scales that lined their bodies were as different as a crocodile and a salmon.

  Every day she spent in the colony was a reminder of what happens when a war is lost. A part of her was glad she never saw firsthand what happened to the third intelligent species of the Ansara System. The Kraven were a brutal race, easily twice the height of an average human male with enough muscle packed on to panic the heartiest of men. Their recent forays out of the darkness of whatever world they now hailed from had meant the demise of countless thousands.

  Saturn stood and stared out the open window at the packed sand of the streets below. The road was bustling with a morning market located less than a block away. Dinari clad in their rough brown garments flocked to the many stands to barter. Even in the morning light Saturn could make out their golden orb-like eyes that still seemed so large in comparison to her own dark brown ones.

  She heard a groan and turned to see her half-naked companion. He had wavy blond hair down to his shoulders, and a deep scar running the length of the right side of his face, which split his eyebrow and colored the skin a deep pink even in the orange light that always seemed to tint the sky on Garuda. Apart from the scar, Liam looked much the same as the day they’d met. He’d recently shaved his beard, which made him look much younger. The clean-shaven look sparked so much nostalgia in Saturn, she’d found herself dreaming of their first few missions together.