by Trevor Wyatt
The Coming Storm
Trevor Wyatt
Pax Aeterna Press
Contents
Description
Historians Note
Also by Trevor Wyatt
The Mariner
Connect With Trevor Wyatt
Author’s Notes
Table of Contents Instructions
1. Cassius
2. Cassius
3. Cassius
4. Cassius
5. Cassius
6. Cassius
7. Cassius
8. Cassius
9. Cassius
10. Cassius
11. Cassius
12. Ketra
13. Cassius
14. Cassius
15. Cassius
16. Cassius
17. Cassius
18. Cassius
19. Ketra
20. Cassius
21. Ketra
22. Cassius
23. Cassius
24. Cassius
25. Cassius
26. Ketra
27. Cassius
28. Thomas
29. A Message from the Office of the Chancellor of the Human Confederation
The Mariner
First Contact
The Omarian Gambit
Fire On The Frontline
The Ghost Fleet
Homefront
High Crimes
Tales From The Sonali War Vol. 1
The Pax Aeterna Universe
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The Coming Storm
A Pax Aeterna Novel
Copyright © 2018 by Pax Aeterna Press
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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To Marta
Description
Ambition. Revenge. Power.
The universe has met men it should fear before,
But none like him.
None like Cassius Ojun.
Born and bred amidst poverty and disgrace,
He was supposed to be nothing more than a statistic.
But you can’t measure ambition, can you?
You can’t measure a man’s will power.
While the universe struggled with war,
He clawed his way out of the slums
And made a name for himself.
While the Outer Colonies sank deeper into corruption,
He gritted his teeth and let his rage loose.
Foe or friend, it doesn’t matter.
Soon enough, the whole universe will know of him.
Just get out of his way...
Historians Note
Events in this story occur in 2205, 3 years after the events of The Seeker, which concluded the Earth-Sonali war
2197
The Mariner is mysteriously destroyed. Captain Jeryl Montgomery investigates, sparking the Earth-Sonali War.
2202
The Earth-Sonali War ends.
2205
Vice-Admiral Jeryl Montgomery begins forming the Galactic Council
2207
Captain Jeryl Montgomery, demoted from his position as Vice-Admiral, returns to his position as The Seeker’s captain.
Also by Trevor Wyatt
The Pax Aeterna Universe
Call of Command Series:
First Contact
The Omarian Gambit
Fire On The Frontline
The Ghost Fleet
Shadow Agent Chronicles:
Homefront
High Crimes
The Mariner
See where it all started. Read The Mariner, A Pax Aeterna Prequel, for free, exclusively at this link: https://claims.instafreebie.com/free/yaoQE
Connect With Trevor Wyatt
https://www.facebook.com/trevor.wyatt.3154
Author’s Notes
Thank you!
Let’s be honest for a moment - writing is a solitary job. Sure, you’ve got the right playlist, the right chair, and the right environment. You’ve got the million little things you need (or think you do) to help you put the words down onto the paper...but, really, it all comes down to the reader.
I’ve had a lot of fun writing The Coming Storm, and most of it has to do with the fact that I know this book will find its way to you, the reader. Even though we’ve never met, I like to think that, between the two of us, there’s a kind of bond.
Cassius Ojun was a particularly fun character to write, and I think that a lot of it has to do with that dark streak inside each and everyone of us. We all ache for completion, revenge, and power - whether we acknowledge it or not. Cassius, more than being a villain, really is a tragic figure. Instead of being someone we can easily hate, he holds up a mirror to our darkest instincts.
By now, you’ve noticed that I really love Cassius as a character. My only hope is that you’ve enjoyed reading about him as much as I’ve enjoyed writing about him.
And if you’re thinking this isn’t the last we’ve seen of Cassius, well...you’re goddamn right.
Table of Contents Instructions
WAIT!
Please use the TOC (Table of Contents located in the upper left area of your screen) to navigate your way through this book. If you’re zoomed out and you’re seeing a smaller version of the book and it is flipping through that way, please press the center of your screen to get you out of page flip mode.
Thanks!
Trevor Wyatt
Chapter 1
Cassius
Home was still ten blocks away, and this neighborhood was worse than the last. The disintegrated buildings should’ve been abandoned long ago, but that would never be an option.
Even at sixteen, Cassius Ojun knew Centralia was designed to keep the poor in their places. The slums in Fairdale, hatefully named Mansionland, was home and always would be.
The privileged lived in nice, gated communities around the perimeter, while the aristocracy stayed along the equator, where the climate was mild and the air was fresh. They were far removed from the real inner workings of this place and didn’t care to know what the rest of them had to do just to survive.
Cassius made sure he was always aware of his surroundings, ears open for any unfamiliar noise and turning a full circle every few feet to make sure no one followed.
“Gimme your shoes.” Some pocket-sized jerk in an old sweater riddled with holes waved a sharpened piece of steel under Cassius’ nose.
Cassius glanced down at his tattered sneakers and rolled his eyes. The boy looked all of ten and wore better shoes than he did. He slapped the homemade shiv out of the kid’s hand and smacked him on the back of the head.
“Go home,” he ordered.
The kid ran off crying as Cassius smiled and picked up the piece of metal.
No one here could even steal real weapons, much less buy them. For all, except the Rolands and their favored few, home-grown self-defense had to suffice. There were plenty of violent deaths without the fancy weapons.
If only his neighbors would point their anger where it belonged instead of at each other.
His apartment building was as dilapidated as the rest. Most of the windows were covered with plastic or tattered blankets, all the moldings broke off long ago, and you could see where they should have been, the color of a storm cloud. Instead, there were chips of flaking paint undern
eath decades’ worth of graffiti.
He greeted his elderly neighbors who were perched on the stoop with a wave before squeezing past. He didn’t feel like talking. He trudged to his floor, heading straight home—one flat in the middle of the left hall.
“Hey, jackass. Where’ve you been?” Francis asked in his usual sarcastic manner. Cassius sometimes wondered who the older brother really was. Francis spent his time making jokes and causing trouble with his many dubious friends. He was probably annoyed that Cassius left early.
“Job hunting. How’s dad?”
Usually, there was an equally tart reply, but he was too depressed to trade insults. He had arrived too late to be chosen for day labor and no one else would hire him.
“Been sleeping all day. Mom’s babysitting the Cormak kids in trade for dinner,” Francis replied.
“At least that problem’s solved.”
“No luck?”
“Hell no.”
Cassius went to the only bedroom door and opened it carefully.
Daniel, his father, lay on a thin dumpster mattress in the middle of the floor. He snored a faint, wet gurgle.
Subpulmonarypathosis should no longer exist. It was totally preventable and required minimal treatment. However, when there was no money, the smog always weaseled its way inside them. The poor were a burden to the society, according to the Human Confederation. Healthcare was a privilege for the wealthy.
Cassius lifted the sheet to make sure he was dry. With a sigh of relief, he crept out and closed the door.
He plopped down on the floor beside Francis. “What did you do today?”
“I passed by the orphanage,” Francis replied.
“So?”
The Marie Roland Home used to be an orphanage, and was still called such. Over the years, it had evolved into the largest crime syndicate in Centralia. It came a long way from urchins picking pockets, and it was bad news.
“So they offered me a job. They told me to bring you along, too. We can make good money, and all we have to do is run errands.” Francis’ grin said he had just found a gold mine.
Cassius grunted. ‘Errands’ could mean anything from breaking legs to smuggling drugs. He doubted the don would send teenage boys to pick up groceries.
“We can get dad’s medicine. Mom can take a break. Come on,” Francis said as he tugged Cassius’ arm.
“You know the Rolands are part of the reason dad is so far gone, don’t you?” Cassius replied, arching his brow.
They were always turned away from hospitals and legitimate doctors. As soon as the thumb scanners verified their identities, they were escorted out. They were forced to resort to black market meds and basement hacks. The Rolands controlled both, and not cheaply. If there wasn’t money to pay, they would literally take a pound of flesh or force that person into servitude.
“That’s why this is a good idea.”
“I don’t think so.” Cassius was starting to think his brother had a death wish.
“Wimp.”
“Assburger.”
Francis punched him on the arm. Maybe he was a wimp, but the Rolands would never set him free once they dug in their claws. That was how they operated.
They sat in silence, listening to the next door neighbors’ constant bickering. They looked at each other in dismay as the insufficient wall carried the distinct sounds of slapping, followed by weeping. He would never understand why the wife just didn’t hit back. Once, Cassius tried to defend her. She attacked him for his trouble, jumping on his back while he pushed the husband away.
It was well into the night when their mother, Shandie, arrived. Francis never stirred from the fitful sleep they had to endure on the hard floor.
Cassius sat up.
“Hi, mom,” he mumbled.
“Hey, kid. Save some for your brother,” Shandie said, handing him a bag.
He scooted to the light pouring through the dingy window and opened the bag, where he found three palm-sized packages of freeze-dried work rations. They were supposed to be rehydrated, but that was impossible in his house.
Cassius ripped the insulated package with his teeth and poured dehydrated stew into his mouth. He crunched peas and carrot bits as he watched his mother sink to the floor with a groan. She peeled off her shoes with a sigh. The streetlight illuminated a glistening red smear across the bottom of her foot. Cassius gulped down another mouthful and handed her the foil package.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, folding the bag. He leaned over, pressed it against the cut, and gently slid the shoe on to hold it in place.
“They’re just dry,” Shandie muttered with her mouth full.
Cassius shook his head and changed the subject, “Did the Cormak kids give you any trouble?”
The Cormaks lived a block down. The father had a real job, supervising cargo storage. No one but Shandie was brave enough to sit for their eight children, all of them buggers. The rations were the only thing they could afford to pay, but the Ojun family didn’t complain. Those nasty packages saved them from starvation more than once.
“They’re monsters. I’m gonna have a shiner tomorrow.” She handed the package over to Cassius and stood, using the wall to brace herself. Her back and knees popped as she shuffled to the bedroom door. Instead of saying goodnight, she let out a short, wet cough.
Cassius’ heart thumped at the sound. His father’s illness began the same way. If they could just get their hands on some antibiotics, it could be stopped before it got that bad. Going back to sleep was out of the question now. He left the rations beside his brother and snuck out the door.
The night was almost as busy as the day, but he had years of practice slipping in and out of the shadows. He actually felt safer in the dark, using the cover of night as a security blanket.
For the most part, it worked, but tonight was different. For no definable reason, his gut told him someone was following his every move.
Careful not to let his paranoia show, he stepped down an alley and back up the next side street. The only things he saw were shady deals on almost every corner, hookers of all genders, and the Rolands sprinkled about like rat poison. People in the slums tended to congregate in small groups.
Cassius never bought into the whole ‘safety in numbers’ thing. Alone was better. There was no one to betray him in order to survive. It always happened.
One of the Rolands, a nineteen-year-old named Dublin, glanced his way and winked. He had been a friend of Francis before they tore the school down. Cassius held his breath and sank back into the alley.
So, they are watching, Cassius thought.
If he said no, would there be repercussions? If he said yes, would they help his mom and dad? He felt vulnerable even in the shadows, so he ambled home to argue with himself over the Rolands’ offer.
In the bedroom, Shandie was coughing as quietly as possible. Daniel’s wet snore sounded like a death rattle. The heartbreaking scenario did nothing to help his dilemma. One second he decided to say yes, and the next second it was no.
This went on until he passed out beside his brother.
Chapter 2
Cassius
The orphanage sat right at the border between Mansionland and the rest of Fairdale. With every vehicle that passed, Cassius willed his feet to stop cramping and kept himself from being envious of the people who had the joy of not having to drag their feet to their destinations every day.
He looked down and sighed as he saw that his ratted, extremely worn footwear was starting to show signs of defeat. He really needed new shoes.
Unsure of himself, he stayed two paces behind his brother. The sun had just gone down, and Francis’ friend, Greggo, led them down the alley and ushered them to the back door. No one would care who was going in and out of the orphanage, but he took precautions anyway.
He understood as soon as they stepped inside. The back door was an elevator entrance.
Greggo smiled at their surprise and said, “It’s a working fridge on the other si
de.”
There was no turning back now. If Cassius refused, he would die. He and Francis squeezed in without their escort. The short freefall made him want to vomit, and as the door opened, he forgot all about his stomach.
He could’ve been in another world. The place looked like it spanned the entire block, and it was filled with gadgets he didn’t recognize. To his right was a cage with a burly man in sunglasses standing in front of it. Inside, weapons lined the wall, some he recognized, and some he didn’t. It was all unreal. He never saw anything like this on the streets.