by C. C. Ekeke
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Free Short Stories
Prologue
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
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Books by C.C. Ekeke
Free Short Stories
A Note from the Author
C. C. EKEKE
Copyright © 2016 by C. C. Ekeke
STAR BRIGADE: The Supremacy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
STAR BRIGADE, characters, names and related indicia are registered trademarks of C.C. Ekeke.
Copyright © 2016 by C. C. Ekeke
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles.
ISBN: 978-0-9899119-7-9
Cover design: Milan Jaram
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Prologue
In the endless pitch-black of space, a lone human stood surrounded by stars. Given his imperious poise and urbane grey robes, some might mistake him for a god surveying his celestial kingdom.
From the Sol System to the edge of Ruby Space, the entire Galactic Union of Planetary Republics lay before him. But in truth, this version of Union Space was duplicated and scaled down via the 3D Real suite. Twinkling stars shone off the man’s dark skin, highlighting incisive russet-brown eyes. Just touching one of these heavenly bodies could call up summaries on any Union memberworld, colony or territory. Entire planetary profiles unfolded at his beck and call: population, flora, fauna, indigenous species, economics and a glut of other facts.
Tomoriq Fel, founder of v-world site UNIFY, was a regular earthborn human in the physical sense; above- average height, dark kinky locks trimmed to the scalp, sinewy build sculpted by regular exercise. Nonetheless, the trillionaire, with his vast influence and affluence, considered himself above mere mortals, brought to this universe to guide it toward a better tomorrow.
One didn’t create the known galaxy’s largest virtual world network without insatiable determination. And Fel wanted more—needed it like an addiction—regardless of the price.
“A sterling for your thoughts, Fel,” a female voice cooed behind him.
Tomoriq bristled. “You’re late, Korvenite.” He held a special loathing for the owner of that voice.
“Business on Santhoro.” The petite female moved through the ether to stand opposite Fel. “And remember,” she continued, running fingers through fluid silvery hair that spilled past her waist, “I am as far beyond Korvenites as they are beyond you, human.” The threat in her enchanting voice was obvious.
Fel chuckled. “So you keep saying, yet I recall us inferior humans taking your planet and throwing your worthless species into internment camps.”
The Korvenite responded with a smile that could have frozen Fel’s ears off. Indeed, Thaomé was Korvenite, but she resembled no Korvenite the Union public had ever seen. It looked like someone switched around a Korvenite’s violet hair color and chalk-white complexion, then traded the golden irises for colorless ones. Albino Korvenites were rare, outcasts among outcasts. Even Thaomé’s age remained a carefully guarded secret. Nevertheless, she carried that sylph-like figure like royalty in her bejeweled, ivory-toned evening gown.
“The past is irrelevant,” Thaomé said with a disarming laugh. “Shall we discuss the contest?”
Fel shrugged. “Fair enough.” He reached over Thaomé’s shoulder to one sparkling dot, tapping it. “Herope Cross.”
Instantly, two crooked and lengthy lines formed at opposite points in front of the duo. These glowing marks began linking several planetary systems. The billions living in these systems felt microscopic in Fel’s eyes, whether seen here or from a spacecraft viewport.
With a starry forest as their backdrop, the two lines rapidly wormed toward each other, finally intersecting at one star—Herope. These lines represented the Orthambra Trade Route and the Cercidalean Spine, the busiest hyperspacelanes in the Galactic Union. A short scrawl of data appeared next to the Herope star system intersection; description, origin, average ships passing through per day, revenue, and much more data comprised the long scrawl.
“I take it you are referring to the Herope Cross’s trade decline of late.” Thaomé glanced at the elaborate display, always sneering. “I’m sure it’s played hazik with your holdings in that area.”
Fel barely flinched at her taunt. “As it has yours.”
Thaomé stopped smiling. Despite being Korvenite nowadays, she wielded sizeable authority, much of it attained as an unseen powerbroker around Union Space. Fel felt elated knowing that Herope Cross’s current failings hurt her much more than him. He made no effort to hide his smugness. “Ironically enough,” he continued, “the flashpoint of the disruption is the very planet we compete over.”
With that, Fel reached out again and tapped a finger on the heart of the Herope Cross. The Orthambra Trade Route and Cercidalean Spine vanished from sight. Abruptly the dwarf star Herope zoomed in, front and center, burning bright red. Fel spoke a name, and Herope vanished, blowing out one of its four orbiting planets into full three-dimensional glory. “Faroor.”
At first glance, nothing about this Union memberworld merited any attention. Faroor was a rather small T-Type planet, with large swaths of bluish-green seas cutting through mountainous, grey landmasses, all swaddled in blankets of off-white. Yet, both Fel and Thaomé knew Faroor as the nexus of the Herope Cross
’s busy trade junction—giving it prominence in the Galactic Union. This planet was also known for its grandiose city-states, aristocratic society, and a shameful conflict between its two native species. The latter point was what held Fel and Thaomé’s shared interest.
“The Ttaunz and Farooqua conflict is reaching critical mass, despite Union Command sending assistance to contain the situation,” Fel said, hands behind his back. “The Ttaunz seize land outside their borders, and the Farooqua strike back in their…arcane ways.” “Arcane”, was an understatement. These past few years, the conflict had not only grown less one-sided, but drastically more other.
Thaomé rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. And the Ttaunz’s PLADECO forces retaliate even more brutally, thanks to some lone radical uniting many of the Farooqua tribes. I’m not a youngling in need of tutelage, Tomoriq.” The silver-haired Korvenite pursed her lips, which glimmered with silvery gloss.
“Since you are at the summit of know-how,” Fel replied tersely, “then you are well aware that the conflict is a hairsbreadth from escalating into planetary civil war. Many megacorps will no longer trade in the Herope Cross, causing grave damage to the Union economy and our interests.”
“Faroor’s destabilization reaches far beyond lost revenue.” Thaomé shook her head condescendingly, fixated on Faroor’s lone moon of Qos. “Any semi-sentient with three working neurons knows this.”
“I know the stakes, Korvenite,” Fel snapped. “I care only about its effects on my dealings.” A lie, of course. Faroor drew his interest for other reasons. “Union governance is unstable, thanks to your foolhardy species,” he said, earning a flicker of pride from Thaomé. “Failure on Faroor will cause the GUPR further damage, leading many memberworlds to question their place in such an ineffectual government.”
“How heartbreaking,” Thaomé replied, clearly not heartbroken. “Only one way to fix this dilemma.”
Fel’s smile showed perfectly white teeth. “Aggravate it. We both know the prize.” The points, profits, and privilege to take advantage of the ensuing chaos, went to whomever delivered Faroor’s utter destabilization. Fel and Thaomé were but two partaking in this contest. “Are your pawns in place?”
“Of course,” Thaomé replied cagily. “Is your political pawn in place?”
Fel eyed her in fleeting shock, but recovered abruptly to answer, “Yes.” How she had learned of his foothold on Faroor alarmed him greatly. Fel knew Thaomé couldn’t read his thoughts. Due to her albino nature, she only possessed empathic abilities and not full-blown telepathy or “Mindspeak,” as Korvenites called it. Even so, this room had psionic dampeners installed. Regardless, he clearly had a leak that must be contained swiftly.
Knowing she had rattled him, Thaomé smirked broadly. “May the best sentient win, Tomoriq.” She turned and departed through Fel’s virtual starry forest, with a tempting sway in her hips.
Fel, despite his aversion to Korvenites, watched her go. “Since you are so all-knowing, I wonder about Faroor’s skyquakes growing in frequency and potency. Any reason why?”
Thaomé paused and turned again toward Fel. “Not a clue. But if I ever become privy to that data, you’ll be the first to know.” As she spoke, her ashen irises shrank away and left only round pits of black—a Korvenite mannerism that Thaomé knew unsettled him. The Korvenite then disappeared into the starry void. A brief rectangular flash from outside signaled her exiting through a sliding door.
Fel shuddered. Anyone of lesser stature, he would have killed for lying so obviously. Instead, he allowed a few more moments for his unrest to seep away before ordering, “Uniopedia Off.” The Galactic Union and its twinkling vastness disappeared, leaving a large, barren chamber of amber walls.
“Uppity limeblood whore,” he spat, heading for the exit. “You, your kind, and everyone in this ‘Union’ will be culled…after I win our contest.” Especially if what he assumed about Faroor was true.
Striding out into the sleek, obsidian corridors of his megacorp, Tomoriq Fel shifted thoughts from his greater plans. He had a multiplanetary empire to run—and a traitorous associate to hunt down.
Chapter 1
Light years away on the Union side of Ruby Space, Faroor’s dark side displayed a completely different scene. The dark purple skies blanketing Yanjon Vale were cloudless and splashed with distant stars. Qos, Faroor’s moon, hung low in a perfect sapphire crescent. Predators and prey alike went about their usual routines.
One such predator lay in the high stalks of reddish urbrui grass, waiting. Unlike most inhabitants in Yanjon, Mhir’ujiid was well aware of her role. The Farooqua female, nineteen cycles old, from the Quud tribe, slowly inched forward on her belly for almost twenty macroms of time. Years of hunting experience taught the girl to mute any noises of her approach. The long spear in Mhir’ujiid’s hand was her sole weapon. Its double-edged tips were made of sharpened fangs from a Taumattang she had killed herself. Mhir’ujiid then froze, the muscles taut on her rail-thin body. Her eyes resembled black, oily opals as they fixed on the prey.
A proneus stood three metrids away, left side facing Mhir’ujiid while grazing languidly on fresh urbrui stalks. It was about five feet long, four feet in height on its two lean-muscled front legs and a single thickset hind leg. The coppery horns on its head resembled two semicircular blades, small and indicated an adolescent male. By its beefy body, this one’s meat would easily feed a large clan for two nights or more. Its hide could create three coats for adults, six for small younglings. The possibilities with its bones were endless. Perfect, Mhir’ujiid thought, practically bursting with elation.
The proneus quickly looked up from its meal, surveying the surrounding areas with oversized, spooky neon-blue eyes. Its face was elongated, narrow and snout-like, akin to a greyhound’s with a stretched muzzle. The floppy, bat-like ears flicked about in typical proneus skittishness. It craned its long, muscular neck around to stare in Mhir’ujiid’s direction. The proneus then began sniffing about, probing for what its eyes couldn’t see.
Mhir’ujiid did not breathe. The long, green mohawk running down her back tingled with pent-up exhilaration. Had she been spotted? The urbrui grass stalks surrounding her body gave off an odor so pungent that it was the ideal mask. But like the enveloping night, Mhir’ujiid knew urbrui was not impenetrable. The proneus fixated on her exact location just then. Tensing up, it took a panicky step back.
Mhir’ujiid silently cursed herself. How had she forgotten the foremost hunting principle among the Quud? Prey belongs to no one until a Farooqua’s weapon claims it.
But the proneus then relaxed, a shudder rippling across its steel-grey coat before it craned its neck back down to munch once more on urbrui stalks. The young Farooqua would have sighed in relief, if she did not have to remain so still. No more wasting time, she thought. She tipped her somewhat bulbous head slightly to the right, then left, then right again.
On cue, another set of oily, opal-like eyes appeared in the urbrui stalks on the proneus’s other side. Her hunting partner, another young Quud named Ekus’oguul, saw her signal and prepared to strike. The proneus had settled back into grazing.
Ekus’oguul sprang out of hiding at the beast’s rear. With stems of red urbrui hanging from its jaws, the proneus started and bolted for the open plains—straight toward Mhir’ujiid.
Mhir’ujiid stayed crouched and calm, even as the proneus thundered forward. There was a wet scrunch of punctured flesh, completed by a trumpet-like screech.
Mhir’ujiid stood exposed in the night, her long spear lodged through the proneus’s side. All other night noises ceased, alerted by the creature’s wounded cry. With a strength belying her skinny build, Mhir’ujiid muscled the thrashing proneus down onto the grassy earth using her spear and held it down. Pools of dark blood began soaking the earth from under the beast’s fallen body.
As the trembling proneus lay pinned, Mhir’ujiid watched the light fade from its sad blue eyes. The Farooqua knew that slowly ebbing away was no way to die. She
let go of her spear and kneeled by its side. Cradling the animal’s head in one arm, she wrapped her other arm firmly around its neck.
WHACRACK! One quick, brutal twist and the proneus stilled. Mhir’ujiid released its limp head and stood up. Dizzying joy washed over her. The thrill of the hunt—nothing could top it. Suddenly, a familiar clicking from behind caught her attention. Mhir’ujiid turned to find Ekus’oguul standing there looking far from celebratory. He was her same age, slightly taller, with a more sinewy build. His face, like her own, looked squashed, with no visible nose and wide, oval-shaped eyes. Their faces’ velveteen ivory coloring from below the brows to just above the upper lip held stark contrast to their body pelts’ goldenrod complexion.
Ekus’oguul gesticulated feverishly, hands and body quivering with anger. Like every Farooqua dialect, the Quud language was a unique kineticabulary of hand signing and body motions.
“[We almost lost that kill,]” he fumed. “[Your time with the infidels dulled your hunter’s instinct.]”
Mhir’ujiid rolled her eyes. She yanked her spear out of the proneus’s body with a grunt, spraying blood everywhere. The girl gestured back with her free hand, “[I made a mistake. But we got our kill, Ekus’oguul. And stop calling every non-Farooqua an infidel!]”
The male Quud made an angry tutting noise. “[I still see no reason why you attended their schools…]” Ekus’oguul spread his arms in sweeping gestures to articulate, “[when all a Farooqua needs is out here on the Estria.]”
Mhir’ujiid shook her head in a pitying fashion. Typical Farooqua close-mindedness. It was hard for her to believe she and Ekus’oguul were cousins, let alone best friends during childhood.
“[Let’s pack up and return home,]” Mhir’ujiid replied with hooked finger gestures. “[Then you can berate me with anti-Ttaunz tirades.]”
Ekus’oguul broodingly rubbed the small, rounded ridge under his eyes where a nose might be, but instead housed thousands of microscopic pores that enabled a Farooqua’s breathing. “[Fine, then. We cut off the limbs and transport our kill,]” he conceded.