For Duty (Antaran Legacy Book 1)

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For Duty (Antaran Legacy Book 1) Page 1

by Matthew C. Plourde




  For Duty

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  For Duty

  The Antaran Legacy, Book 1

  Copyright © 2011 by Matthew C. Plourde

  This book is available in print at Amazon.com

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any character resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An “Antaran Legacy” novel by Matthew C. Plourde

  http://matthewcplourde.wordpress.com/

  Cover artwork by Axel Torvenius

  Edited by Jennifer Blessing Miceli

  “Seven paths aloft men say they take;

  Yet six alone are viewed by mortal eyes.

  From Zeus' abode no star unknown is lost

  Since first from birth we heard, but thus the tale is told…”

  - 270 B.C. by Aratos, Greek Astronomer

  Chapter 1

  “Welcome to Olympus Hospital,” the bald man said as he waddled forward. When he realized with whom he was speaking, his eyes widened and he gestured a sign of veneration before he continued. “Forgive the chaos, most esteemed High Lady. I am Esodus, administrator of this facility and chief surgeon. The Humans who crashed are in good health and their leader is anxious to speak with you.” The administrator’s voice trailed off as he stooped in reverence to the eldest daughter of Emperor Agreios.

  Though annoyance welled in her throat, Lady Helena didn’t allow the emotion to break over her painted face. The sharp blue lines and sweeping curves of her facial markings stirred not a millimeter as she gazed at her reflection upon Esodus’ scalp. While the hospital administrator genuflected on the ground, Helena silently cursed her father for turning her family into an idol of worship. Centuries ago this man would have simply lowered his head in respect. This day, however, Esodus caused a pedestrian traffic jam in the middle of the bustling hospital corridor.

  “Rise, Administrator Esodus.” Helena made a lifting motion with her white-gloved hand as she spoke. Like a puppet on a string, Esodus stood. Helena’s grey eyes fixed upon the administrator, but the stare was not returned. When she spoke, everyone in the corridor froze and listened in awe.

  “I am here on behalf of the Senate and the emperor. You are all to be commended for your healing skills and for your compassion towards the off-worlders.” Her azure robe shifted as she stepped forward and spoke to the administrator, choosing to disregard his title. “Can the Humans be moved, Esodus?”

  Still refusing to meet her gaze, her responded, “Y-yes My Lady. Well, most of them, that is. As you know, the ship crashed only yesterday. Some of the survivors will require more surgery.”

  Yes, she did indeed know when the crash occurred as she was right in the middle of it. New Olympus was the largest city on Antares, and the Human vessel plunged into the side of the mountain that gave the city its midday shade. Superheated debris rained down from the mountainside killing thousands. Helena spent the previous day attending to wounded off-worlders and Antarans alike at the smaller Tiberius Hospital which was closer to the crash site. This morning she was prepared to do the same, until her father contacted her with new orders.

  “Well,” she said, “a Human ambassador is en route to transport the off-worlders home.” Relaxing, she brushed a strand of raven hair off her shoulder and gestured to Esodus. “Take me to them.”

  As they walked, she sensed his desire to say something more - something about the condition of the off-worlders. However he didn’t speak. Helena could’ve delved deeper into the man’s thoughts, but she decided to refrain. More important matters occupied her mind. She couldn’t decipher the wisdom behind her father’s decision to involve the Antaran people in the Human-Proxan War. What good could come of it?

  They stopped beside a titanium door. Before the administrator could open his mouth to speak, Helena knew where they were.

  “The Human captain is in here,” she said.

  “My Lady knows the truth before it is possible to be known,” Esodus bowed again and closed his eyes in prayer.

  “You will introduce me as Lady Helena, nothing more.” She tapped her toe in frustration and Esodus snapped out of his trance.

  “Understood?” she said as she attacked each of his eyes with a cold stare.

  “As you w-wish, My Lady,” he said as he placed his palm upon the reader.

  With a whoosh the door glided into the floor and the two praetorians standing guard jerked to attention. Helena sensed their awe as they averted their gaze. The antechamber was large enough to hold a table on one side, a closet on the other, two guards at the far security door and little else.

  “Administrator,” one of the praetorians said, “the off-worlder requested communications. Again.”

  Esodus’ mouth was open before the praetorian finished. “Of course, My Lady, we have followed protocol and denied interstellar communications to the off-worlders.”

  Protocol. Protocol stemmed from tradition. And tradition from custom. Helena’s favorite childhood story depicted the struggles of a young princess as she defied her father to follow her heart. Protocol demanded Helena obey her emperor’s command. Tradition required a child to trust in her father’s wisdom, as it is greater than the child’s. Why would she question her orders? Did she harbor more venom for Humans than she first thought?

  Trust your emperor, she repeated in her head.

  She planted her stare upon the senior praetorian. “Open this door, Praetorian. Only Esodus and I will enter, unless you are called for.”

  The praetorian nodded and opened the door without further acknowledgement. He resumed his post within an instant, hand at the hilt of his sword.

  Helena took a step and then stopped to glance at the praetorian. “You adherence to protocol is impressive. Your Centurion will hear of it.”

  If her father was remembered for anything, it would be his ability to train disciplined royal guards. Helena sensed the deadliness in these two men. They kept their emotions well below the surface, a place she could only probe with considerable effort. They were here to
guard the emperor’s eldest daughter and heir on her visit to Olympus Hospital. And since Helena had never been face-to-face with an off-worlder before, she was thankful for their presence.

  As they entered the room, Esodus announced, “Captain Connor. Lady Helena is here to see you.”

  The Human turned his head to the pair. His emotions were painted on his face as clearly as Helena’s blue tattoos. He was annoyed.

  “Why can’t I contact my admiral? Why am I confined to this room? Where is my crew? Why..?”

  Helena raised her hand and settled her gaze upon the off-worlder. To her surprise, he stared back at her as he crossed his arms. He was more muscled than an Antaran male, and his skin held richer color and thicker hair. Antaran skin tended towards pale gray or near white. Tangles of brown hair extended to below his ears and his jaw was covered with the shadow of a beard. Bandages encased his left forearm and entire right leg, but he wasn’t as wounded as some of the survivors Helena tended at Tiberius Hospital. For the most part, Humans resembled Antarans. That fact supported the Antaran legends suggesting a similar heritage between the two races.

  He seemed surprised by her apparent age as he was expecting someone older. A quick probe into his mind told her that they had both seen about the same number of years. Apparently, her people held their youth longer than Humans.

  She didn’t need to delve deeper into his thoughts to know he was angry. She could also sense Esodus’ surprise. The way the off-worlder spoke to the emperor’s heir was probably unfathomable to the hospital administrator.

  “Your ambassador is heading to Antares now. He sends this communication,” Helena said as she lifted a small datapad from the folds in her robe and handed it to Esodus.

  Captain Connor took the datapad from the administrator and asked, “Can I have some privacy?”

  “We have already examined the message and we are aware of its contents,” Helena said. “It is devoid of secret code and, in fact, has instructions for you. The Antaran Senate has been in contact with your government since the crash. My people, the Antarans, wish nothing more than to see your crew well and able to journey home.”

  Captain Connor examined the datapad and then to his two visitors. He smiled and asked, “How do I turn this thing on?”

  Esodus suppressed a laugh and leaned over to activate the datapad. Though Helena couldn’t see the image from where she was standing, she watched it enough to know the face of the Human on the screen.

  Captain Connor, the message intoned, this is Admiral Glycin. The Antarans limit my message length, so this will be brief. You and your crew are safe for now. An ambassador is en route with a transport to bring you to The Median. Until then, you are Earth’s ambassador to the Antaran people. Potential alliance is in the works, extend them some Human hospitality. Rest-up and review your chess strategies.”

  Before the screen flickered to black, Captain Connor furrowed his brow and asked, “Chess?”

  “Yes, Captain. Chess,” Helena responded as she walked to the far wall. “Do you wish to know what you are playing for?”

  The Human planted his fists on the mattress of the bed and raised himself forward. The bed responded to his actions and lifted to support his back.

  After a grimace of pain he said, “Helena, right? Your name is Helena?”

  “Animal!” Esodus said as he took a step towards the bed. “You will address the Lady-”

  “Esodus. Perhaps you should return to your duties,” Helena said with practiced restraint in her tone. “Be sure to prepare the Human survivors for their trip home. You have two weeks.”

  She sensed the despair and confusion boiling together in the administrator’s thoughts. Then, he regained his composure and responded within the proper protocol, “As you command.”

  Helena’s eyes followed the hospital administrator as he left the room and she caught the praetorian looking sideways into the room – a place which saw raised voices a moment ago. As expected, they were paying attention. Helena doubted she would need their assistance if the off-worlder became hostile, but their presence was comforting nonetheless.

  “My apologies, Captain,” she said, returning her gaze to the Human in the bed. “Esodus is not a diplomat.”

  “Neither am I,” Captain Connor grumbled as he tossed the datapad to the table beside his bed. After crossing his arms again, he took a moment to give her a long visual examination. She waited. Then he said, “You’re more than just a diplomat.”

  “Very perceptive of you. However, I am here on diplomatic duties, so we will concentrate upon that end.”

  “This has to do chess somehow?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes,” she said. “Your war against the Proxans has claimed far too many Antaran lives. While I understand you are just soldiers in that war, my people are dying as you fight over resources on the far side of my planet.”

  “We have orders to leave your civilization alone.”

  “And what good are those orders when starships crash into our cities?”

  “Believe me,” he said, “I had no intention of crashing my ship. You must tell me – how is my crew?”

  Helena sensed a genuine concern in his emotions. He was worried for his shipmates. This fact intrigued her because her data suggested that Humans were little more than barbaric warmongers. Was there more to the captain’s exotic exterior? True, their species shared many commonalities, but the mere fact that he was born on a different planet branded him alien to her.

  Realizing her pause was too long she said, “We are tending to your crew and the survivors will be allowed to leave. You may also take your deceased as well, if you wish. However, I will discuss all of that with your ambassador.”

  “Not my crew,” he said. “The ambassador will not make any decisions about my crew. Got it?”

  “Those are choices to be made by your ambassador, you should-”

  “Listen,” he said as he rose from the bed. Helena scanned his thoughts and didn’t find any violence there. Though if anything changed, she was prepared to subdue him. “I don’t know this ambassador from Jack, okay? He might not put my people ahead of his political goals. There are good people in my crew. Fine folk fighting a war for survival. Don’t blame them for what happened yesterday. They fought with honor and bravery. And they fought to keep that ship from crashing into your city. If you have to release your hatred on anyone, release it on me. Not my crew.”

  Exhausted from his exertion, he fell back into his bed. Helena sensed pain and sorrow from the off-worlder. His first priority was his crew and not his own life. Scolding herself for making preemptive judgments, she softened her tone.

  “Very well,” she said, “if there is punishment to be dealt, I will recommend you receive it in full. However, may I make a suggestion?”

  In-between labored breaths, he asked, “What?”

  “Follow your admiral’s advice and rest. We play chess in two weeks.”

  Chapter 2

  Helena didn’t sleep that night. Instead, she spent her time at Tiberius Hospital. She was accustomed to occasional long shifts, but these hours were marred with a grief that lurked on the outskirts of her heart. As heir, she couldn’t allow that grief to take hold. Instead, she wore her usual mask of stone on her face.

  Her last patient was a boy named Cispius. After three hours in a white room, Helena couldn’t save him. She had lost many patients over the past few hours, but this one threatened to overwhelm her. After he was gone, she rushed from the white room and ripped her surgical vest from her body. The decontamination shower rained its chemicals over her face and naked body. Without reapplying her tattoos, she locked herself in the adjoining preparation chamber.

  How many more of her people had to die before the Humans and Proxans ended their war? This boy, Cispius, was a miracle to his family. His parents were the last hope for the family to continue their bloodline. As they aged, the possibility of a successful pregnancy waned and the family prepared to turn their histories over to the
Archives – another Antaran light extinguished in the dwindling population. Then, Cispius was born. Helena shared the family’s joy through Cispius’ memories as she operated on him. The boy’s family was a respected one. They shouldn’t have suffered such a monumental loss. Cispius was their treasured son. He was strong, intelligent, happy and healthy.

  After a few moments, Helena retrieved her Gima tattoo brush and absently swept the fine bristles across her face. The boy’s parents were at the hospital. Helena sensed their anticipation and fear. They would want to know everything, including how Cispius felt at the time of his injury and death.

  Helena prepared herself for her next ordeal by looking into the mirror and reminding herself of her responsibilities. Sure, her father allowed her to play doctor from time to time, but her true duty was to her people. Duty. She found safety there. Warm in her sanctuary of aged tradition, she maneuvered the corridors until she arrived in the waiting room. Deflecting the anguish she sensed in the parents’ hearts, she smiled for them.

  “Cispius was valiant in his final hours,” she said, “but his wounds were too deep. You may see him now, if you wish.”

  After a few solemn moments between husband and wife the father asked, “Did any of the other students survive?”

  Helena marveled at Calator’s control. Though he just learned of his son’s death, he was worried about the other children. Calator was a fine citizen.

  “Yes,” she said, “including young Livia.”

  Livia was the daughter of Calator’s friend and business partner. She was very close to Cispius.

  Though Calator and Paulina controlled their emotions, Helena sensed their despair. Cispius was the end of their family, the last son. All their hopes were on his small shoulders. They foresaw a bright future for their child, but now they were left with the grief of knowing Cispius wouldn’t taste the same joys they had experienced. The loss crushed them in a way Helena couldn’t understand, as she had no children of her own.

 

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