Galactic Frontiers: A Collection of Space Opera and Military Science Fiction Stories

by Jay Allan

  The engineering hatch slides back and I take a cautious step out. Something flashes before my eyes, but there’s no time to react. A heavy hit to my chest throws me back, sliding across the engineering floor. The rifle flies from my hands, skittering just out of my reach. Out of the shadows of the open entry, two figures emerge. The first woman is pointing a pistol at me. Her nearly-black flowing hair curls down to her waist. A tight, black body suit hugs her defined curves. She’s fit, and the dark around her eyes gives her an intimidating gaze. Out from behind her, the second woman struts in. Tall with nearly white blonde hair and wearing the same outfit, she’s beautiful, and just as fierce looking. I turn to look at my rifle when the first woman shakes her head and steps closer to me. Sitting up, I show my hands to them and stay put.

  “You destroyed my ship,” the blonde woman says. “I can’t believe you did that. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  “You boarded my ship,” I snarl. “I had no choice. You have no right to be here.”

  “Myra, bring him to the bridge.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “This human and I need to have a talk.”

  “I locked the bridge. How did you get out?”

  Myra scoffs. “Your primitive systems are pathetic.”

  Grabbing under my arm, Myra effortlessly lifts me to my feet. She pushes me with just her fingertips, forcing me to the hatch opening. How is she so strong?

  I look to the blonde woman. “You must be Theena?”

  Her brow tightens, arms folding over her chest. “So, you were listening in on us. Smart for such a simple species. Your actions make a little more sense now.”

  “Why can’t I kill him?” Myra asks Theena. “He destroyed our home. He needs to pay.”

  “Oh, he will suffer for his actions, but we need him alive for now.”

  They force me into the hall, Myra’s pistol jabbing into my back as we move. A trickle of sweat falls from my brow, my nerves running free. As we walk, I figure out why they haven’t killed me. They’re not human. They can’t control the S1. The computer will only give a member of the crew control of the ship. If I’m dead, the ship will take over and return to the original mission.

  We reach the short flight of stairs leading up to the bridge. Theena turns to Myra before we head up. “Once we secure him, have Seroa and Evyce gather the rotting bodies into the holding dock. Start with that one.” She points to Lt. Masters in the rec room.

  Myra nods.

  Myra and Theena each force a forearm under my arms. I tense up. We all lift off the ground, gliding up the flight of stairs to the top landing. My eyes widen as I kick my dangling legs, trying to touch the floor. “What the— How are you doing this?” I shout.

  “There’s lots we can do that your primitive body cannot,” Myra says.

  Maybe they’re a human experiment gone wrong. I try to wrap my mind around all the questions these beings present, but how they got here doesn’t make any sense. Whoever they are, I can’t let them use me to get to Earth.

  “What makes you think I’ll help you with anything?” I ask, my feet now back on the ground. We stand in front of the bridge’s hatch.

  “You will do what we say,” Theena says, “or we’ll kill your entire bloodline on Earth.”

  My son’s face pops into my mind. I left him so he might have a chance at a better future.

  “I don’t have family,” I lie.

  The bridge door whooshes back and we walk in. Three more female, human-looking beings mull about.

  “Oh, Len Morrow,” Theena says, a grin filling her face. “You might have locked out navigation and critical systems, but we had no trouble accessing crew records when we boarded this vessel.”

  Myra takes me to one of the bridge chairs off to the side. She forces me to sit. “I suggest you don’t move, or I will fuse your limbs to the metal arms of that chair.”

  I stay put. There’s nothing I can do with all these freaks watching me.

  “If I don’t help you, no one gets to Earth,” I say. “I destroyed your ship. My family is safe.”

  “Don’t misunderstand my words.” Theena leans over me. “You will die for destroying our vessel. But first you will help us gain control of this archaic ship. If not, we will kill Kyle, as well as every blood tie you have on that dying planet.”

  “That sounds like an awesome deal for me, but I’ll pass. Without me, you have nothing.”

  Theena leans back and stands tall. “I was giving you a chance to do this on your own. We’ve dealt with your species before. You’re cruel and unevolved, but very easily persuaded. I am offering you the chance to see your son one last time before we cleanse your planet. You’re a failed species. You’ve had your chance.”

  I raise my head, narrowing my gaze onto her eyes. “Sorry, I’m stubborn. Go to hell.”

  Theena lunges at me, her strong fingers clutching around my neck. I latch on to her wrists with my hands. She lifts me out of the chair and holds me as high as her reach will go. She tightens her grip, cutting off my breathing. My mouth flies open as I hopelessly try to swallow air.

  “Your human notion of hell doesn’t exist,” Theena snarls. “But the one I can create for you does. The computer needs a human life sign on board, but barely alive will work too.”

  She tosses me back into the chair. The seat nearly drops to the floor before springing back up. My lower back stings from the impact. I wince in pain, trying to catch my breath.

  “Myra, paralyze him.”

  I crane my neck to look at Myra as she struts over toward me. Her head’s down, a sinister grin plastered on her face. I fall out of the chair, looking for an escape. She grabs my leg and pins it down. She raises her fist and slams it into my back. A ripple of intense pain floods from my spine throughout my body. My eyes roll back and everything goes dark.

  ***

  “Wake up human,” a voice says, barely cutting through the fog in my mind.

  My eyes refuse to open. A dryness in my throat prevents me from saying anything.

  “I said wake up,” the voice snarls.

  This time my eyes flicker open. The intensity of the light above me is unbearable. I try to move my arm to cover my eyes, but nothing happens. I must be strapped down. Squinting, I tilt my head to the side to see a shadowy figure emerge from a few feet away. It’s Myra.

  “There you are,” she says, a fake smile forced on her face.

  “What happened?” The words barely escape from my lips. “Why can’t I move?”

  “Oh, you don’t remember?”

  The moment she says it, a vision of her raising her fist at me bursts before my mind.

  “You broke my back.” I try as hard as possible to move, but nothing happens. I’m trapped in my body.

  Swallowing deeply brings a bit a moisture to my scratchy throat. I scan over my surroundings. An IV hangs above me. I’m in the med bay. The intense white light and white walls are a dead giveaway.

  “That’s right.” Myra leans over me. “You brought this on yourself, human.”

  “What is wrong with you? Why would you do this?”

  “Your beating heart is all we needed,” she says.

  A few beeps sound from where I lay. She engages the incline on the medical table. A slow hum emits as I’m brought to a sitting position. Straps stretch across my legs and chest, keeping me from sliding off. Myra rips the IV from my arm. I feel nothing. I can’t even feel my chest rise and fall as I breathe. There’s nothing from the neck down. Nothing. She starts to roll me out of the room.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask, the will to fight gone.

  “Theena would like to see you on the bridge.”

  I say nothing as she wheels me through the ship and to the base of the stairs that lead to the bridge. With both hands, she picks up the inclined stretcher and floats me up to the door. She activates the hatch and it slides back. Rolling me in, she says, “We’ve got a surprise for you.”

  Not only is my back broken, but so is my spirit. Her word
s are meaningless now.

  The familiar voice of Theena booms throughout the room. “Morrow, there you are.”

  Myra rolls me to the back of the bridge and turns me to face Theena, who stands near the front of the S1. Her hands are planted on her hips. She has a new hairstyle today. A long ponytail gathers her bright blonde hair neatly to the side, hanging over her shoulder. Several of her crew man posts on the bridge.

  I raise my brows. “You pretending this is your ship now?”

  “There’s no need to pretend,” she replies. “We gained control of these crude systems a few days after we last spoke.”

  “What?” My eyes widen. “Computer, are your systems still locked?”

  Nothing. She doesn’t respond. I look down at my wrist to find the operations key gone.

  “Are you looking for this?” Theena asks, raising an arm to show the key strapped to her wrist. “This was easy to hack. We have full control of the Kyoria II. We just needed you alive long enough to reprogram our new vessel.”

  Kyoria II? How could this happen? If they have control of the ship, they must be on their way to Earth.

  “Please, I’ll cooperate,” I plead. “Earth is mostly underwater now, there’s nothing left to destroy. Take the ship and just go.”

  Theena turns to the woman at the comm post and nods. The crew member pushes a button and looks forward. The front display brightens, exposing Earth’s beauty, which fills the entire viewscreen. The vast blue ocean and wispy clouds glimmer in the sun’s glow. This doesn’t make sense.

  “We didn’t travel all this way just to turn around now,” Theena says.

  “How is this possible? This isn’t real. You’re showing me a recording.”

  “Oh, Morrow.” She looks over her shoulder at the large display before returning to me. “This is not a recording. We’ve made some improvements to the propulsion and cut our travel time down to eight Earth months. You’re home.”

  My vision shakes and my breathing quickens. I don’t understand what’s going on. I gather my thoughts—I need to focus.

  “What do you mean by eight months?” I beg.

  “You’ve been in an induced coma for about nine of your Earth months. We figured it was time to wake you.”

  My son enters my thoughts. His round face and innocent eyes grab at my heart. He’s down there somewhere. This can’t be happening. A tear streams from my eye and rolls down my cheek.

  “We want to thank you for your service,” Theena says, “but we haven’t needed you for months. You destroyed our ship. We just wanted you to see Earth before we phase out humanity, phase out your son.”

  “Who are you?” The words tremble as they slip from my mouth.

  “We’re the last of our kind. Species like yours destroyed our world and killed everyone but us. We’re all that’s left. We’re the Daughters of Ayor.”

  A sharp pinch on the back of my neck forces my head back. Myra stands above me. My breathing becomes short. A blade is pulled free, blood dripping on my forehead as she holds it above me. There’s no pain, but I feel empty. My vision flickers with light. I take one last shallow breath and it goes dark again, the light never to return.

  About the Author, David R. Bernstein

  David R. Bernstein is a huge sci-fi fan. He devours every new book, movie or show that has a gritty edge to it. He started to write a few years ago and has not looked back. Start the Influence series or head to David’s Amazon page to find out about more releases.

  Find David online: Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Instagram | Website

  Books by David R. Bernstein

  The Influence Series

  Bloodbag Suppressors

  By Justin Sloan

  Brent pulled at his other hand, trying to keep his elbow bent as best he could to avoid Sarah’s near perfect arm-bar she had on him. She was strong, he’d give her that, but he wasn’t about to tap out, not today, not with the panel watching from behind their protective glass.

  He shouted in frustration, then rolled into it and let his elbow land extra hard on her throat just long enough to break her hold so that he could regain his footing.

  It wasn’t technically a strike, and though her eyes flashed red, she only snarled slightly at him before leaping up and preparing to take him down again. But this time, he was ready—a quick side-step as she leaped forward, and he faked a roundhouse kick with his right leg before bringing out his ka-bar knife to slash down across her neck and then, while she was still cursing him, bring the blade up and into her chest.

  This time there was no question she was going to hurt him. She pulled him close, ignoring the blade still in her chest, and looked about to tear his neck off when a voice crackled over the loudspeaker and said, “Very well done. Sarah, if you’d please…”

  Her nostrils flared and she licked her lips with a menacing look, but the red glow faded from her eyes.

  Before letting him go, she leaned in and said, “If I see you out there, you’re fucking dead. Remember that, blood-bag.” Her warm, moist tongue flicked at his neck, and then she had released him and was walking away.

  At the doorway, she stopped, pulled the knife out, and threw it so that it stuck into the matt at Brent’s feet.

  She mouthed, “Fuck you,” before disappearing through the doorway. The metal clanged shut behind her.

  “Now, Brent, move on to the shooting demonstration,” the voice on the speakers said.

  He gave the panel a nod, trying to clear his head. He had to admit, he’d nearly pissed himself when Sarah had thrown the knife like that, and been even more terrified when her mouth had been at his neck, but he couldn’t let them see any weakness.

  He approached the rifle rack and took down his favorite plasma blaster. Waiting for it to recognize him by placing four fingers on its side, he closed his eyes and focused. If he pulled this off, he’d be one of the elite. He could finally say he joined the 15th Marine Space Fleet for a reason. His father would look at him from Heaven or wherever the hell people went when their planets exploded while still inhabited, and Brent could stand with pride.

  “If you’re ready,” the speaker voice said. “Commence.”

  Brent opened his eyes to see the yellow strip along the side of the blaster, signaling it was synched with him and ready.

  He turned to the wide, open room. It reminded him of the hanger bays they’d practiced fighting skills in at boot camp, two years ago when he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

  Little did he know at the time that, had he stayed behind and went to The Empiric University like his father wanted, he would’ve died alongside everyone else he’d known his whole life.

  Sometimes, he wished he had, but that was before he was given this opportunity to join the elites fighters, to be one of the best.

  And to get his fucking revenge.

  He stepped off of the mats and onto the metallic octagon, when the first simulated opponent flew at him—almost humanlike, but glowing gold and moving like the wind.

  In spite of every ounce of him saying it was time to run or curl up in a ball and cry, he shot the shit out of that first attacker, releasing blast after blast into it until it was long gone. And it was a mistake, because he almost didn’t see the second target float into existence to his right—a glow from the corner of his eye pulled at his attention and he instantly dropped and rolled to his left, bringing up the gun and shooting as he landed in a kneeling position.

  Another came at him, and then another, and another. Each time, he got slightly more comfortable, until he was so into it he forgot it was a simulation and he was leaping from crates, taking out two and then finally three at a time with his quick reflexes.

  He landed in a crouch, then fell to one knee as he placed his hand back on the pistol to ensure it was charged with his energy. The yellow bar climbed, but the speaker came back on at that moment.

  “That’s unnecessary, Mr. Helms,” a different voice than before said. “Get rinsed up and report to the briefi
ng room. You’ll find out there with the others whether you passed.”

  “Oh, and Brent,” the first voice came back on. “You might want to stay away from Sarah for a bit. She’ll be healed in no time, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be in the best of moods.”

  “You can’t control her for me?” Brent shouted, hoping they could hear him. The last thing he wanted on a day like this was to deal with her in a crappy mood. He looked at the glass and saw the panel filing out, none of them showing any emotion whatsoever.

  Damn, he wanted to know if he’d passed. Not wasting any time, he jogged over to the showers. He strode past the metal doors with only a quick glance outside to see the vast array of stars available everyday out here on Marine Space Training Station O-Fifteen, and was already removing his Kevlar shirt before he turned off of the main hall and into the locker room.

  He dropped the shirt and slid off his pants, listening to the banter of his colleagues as they joked around in the showers.

  A quick glance down and he removed his protective layer of undergarments, grabbed a towel and strode into the showers.

  It was an open room with short walls that went up to about shoulder height for each shower, but not much privacy aside from that.

  “How’d big B do out there?” Sgt. Massie said as she turned to let the water cleanse the soap from her neck and shoulders.

  He made a point of looking away, even though most of the Marines didn’t give a damn. They were all out here risking their lives for each other, and when they were dead, it was all about honor and how you’d lived and died for your Corps. Nobody gave a damn about how you looked in the shower.