War of the Three Planets Collection (Book 01)

by Justin Bell

  With a heave of his broad, level shoulders, the large creature unlocks his wrists and pulls one massive four-fingered hand across one of the bone white protrusions that extends from the rigid, brown skin of his head. A pucker of hard flesh wraps the base of the horn curls up and around, ending in a vaguely pointed stub. He has these horns scattered about the crown of his skull, and similarly shaped ridges at his shoulders, across his arms, and even arching down his curved spine.

  They are a symbol of his status as a ruler of Braxis and the military commander of all Bragdon forces.

  He is the one in charge of recovering the girl.

  Girl seems like an inadequate term. She is so much more than that. He wonders who else knows.

  What other creatures across the Yarda Quadrant have any indication of precisely what secrets young Brie Northstar holds, and how hard Braxis has worked to protect them. They'd come so close to using her that last time, so close, but ultimately failed.

  This time things already look brighter. This time she is joining them willingly, turning her back on what she perceives as her own kind. This is going well for them and their cause. Athelon has played right into their hands. They pushed her too hard and fought too much, and thus, put her right where the Bragdon want her. Everything is going according to plan.

  Command reaches forward with his large, leathery fingers and adjusts the controls under the view screen. The wall in front of him shifts slightly, fading away from Athelon and slowly morphing into a view of another large, round globe.

  This planet is a strange mixture of green and silver. Even from space, it is a gleaming sphere of solid civilization and a shining jewel set in a quadrant of lifeless, bony rocks.

  It's just the way the Reblons want it.

  They want the galaxy to know that they own this quadrant, that they are the most important race in this little corner of infinite space which is bright, sparkling, diamond crusted, and valuable. It makes him sick.

  They have turned Brie Northstar against Athelon, convincing her that the Bragdons are on her side, that she is one of them. But Reblox. No doubt Reblox has its own hand to play, and judging by their aggression when Braxis intercepted her shuttle a month ago, they have their own sinister intentions.

  Command curled his rigid lips and furrowed a brow buried under rounded, skin-covered bone. His yellow eyes snap in swift succession, as he glares at the screen. For the briefest moment he thinks he catches some streaks of light at edge of Reblox. That scant light may be the nearly invisible indication of a spacecraft leaving orbit. But the streaks are dissipating and once again the atmosphere around the sparkling globe is dark and solemn.

  Imagination?

  "Navigator!" he shouts, turning his spiny back away from the monitor screen.

  "Yes, Command!" shouts the Bragdon in response. He is a more normal looking rendition of the reptile race, who stands ensconced within an ornate, rounded control panel in the center of the ship's bridge.

  "Set an intercept course for the jump ship leaving Athelon's orbit. I want to get it on board as soon as possible!"

  "As you wish!"

  The navigator adjusted some controls, gesturing to a second Bragdon who nods and repeats the motions. The battle cruiser begins it's slow, methodical shift in space, adjusting its trajectory so slowly that nobody inside can feel the difference. However, the Bragdon battle cruiser is indeed changing course, in the direction of the jump ship which is one of the largest battle cruisers in the Braxis fleet. It is a long and jagged dagger of space faring debris, flanked by a dozen angular wings extending out from each sloped side. It is a long, narrow craft of punched and bent steel and carbon. The mere sight of it brings fear to the eyes of most other space faring creatures.

  While it is dangerously close to Athelon, its adjusted course draws it slightly away, heading towards the streak of light that is mixing with the surrounding stars.

  No they will not be engaging with Athelon today. There is still work to do. But they have mounted the first ledge and are preparing to keep climbing.

  When this is done, Braxis will rest alone atop the mountain of the Yarda Quadrant, and all others will bow to Command.

  What others are left alive, that is.

  IV

  Enemy of Reblon

  Third novella in the War of the Three Planets series

  Chapter One

  What have I gotten myself into now? I have defied my father, escaped his house arrest, and attempted a single-handed prison break to free Luxen, the boy who saved my life on Braxis. The almighty Redax Northstar, head of the Athelonian North Annex Union, had ordered Luxen executed simply because he was a "filthy Bragdon enemy".

  A little more than a month ago, I was an Athelonian teenager heading to one of our remote moons to go to school, learn some skills, and prepare for life as an adult.

  Sounds pretty lame when I think about it, but somewhere a higher power must agree because I'm no longer that person. Oh, I'm still Brie Northstar, but I'm not going to school, I'm not heading to one of our remote moons, and I'm not even sure I'm Athelonian. I'm not sure I ever was.

  I look down at my two hands—two—Athelonians have four arms, and remember my father standing on the other side of the collapsed prison wall with his eyes boring into mine.

  "STOP, BRIE! DON'T DO it!" he shouts. "You are my daughter! You are Athelonian!"

  Am I? I'm not so sure.

  He looks back over his shoulder. "We need reinforcements!" he screams. "No stun weapons! Shoot to kill!"

  I draw in a long, deep breath, looking back over at Gragson who looks nervous and apprehensive.

  "You have ten seconds," he mutters. "Then we will grab the boy and leave without you."

  Alarms blare all around me, smoke stings my eyes and fills my lungs. Ahead Adroxis Security falls into formation, lifting their weapons as Luxen pushes past my left shoulder, charging towards his savior.

  "Brie!" my father shouts. "Make the right choice!"

  I am making the right choice. Of this I am certain.

  I take one last look at my father.

  And run towards Gragson at full speed, following close behind the boy who was destined to die.

  "Brie!" My father shouts one last time. "Brie!"

  I don't look back; can't look back. Through the blasted wall I can see the Bragdon ship ahead, the familiar sloped shape of a drop ship, the same kind I stole a month ago to escape that awful swamp planet. Now I am getting in one, voluntarily, to go . . . where? Back to Braxis? Somewhere else?

  SUDDENLY THE JUMP SHIP leaps left, slams sideways, and knocks me off my feet, snapping me out of my self-reflective day dream. Night dream? We're in outer space, I have no idea what time of day it is or what happened to cause that jolt.

  Gragson has been carefully maneuvering through the debris field left by the destruction of the asteroid that threatened Athelon three cycles ago. To Gragson's credit, he's flying pretty well, arcing the jump ship over a tight cluster of broken space rocks, banking left, avoiding another.

  More streaks of yellow plasma scorch up from behind us, but scream by on our port, smashing into already broken up pieces of meteoroid that are too close for comfort.

  "We've got Athelonian star fighters on our flank!" Luxen shouts, running up from the rear of the jump ship. This spacecraft is of Bragdon design, one I'm somewhat familiar with due to my close call escape from the planet Braxis about a month ago.

  I thought all Bragdons were my sworn enemy back then . . . now I'm hiding in their spaceship to escape Athelon.

  Times, as they say, have changed.

  "I see four bogeys closing in!" shouts Gragson from the pilot's seat. When I first met him he was leading an army of four dozen reptile aliens trying to capture me. Well, turns out I might be one of those reptile aliens myself.

  "I've got guns!" I shout, throwing myself to my feet. For a young girl who lived a sheltered life, I know how to do a lot of cool stuff. Apparently that includes manning advanced weaponry on a Bra
gdon jump ship.

  I run diagonally across the center aisle of the ship to a rounded clear bubble mounted towards the rear of the spacecraft. I jump to catch the handle of the quad-barreled weapon, pull myself up into the turret, and strap myself right into the curved seat.

  My fingers wrap around the contoured handles as I tilt forward, lurching the weapons down on their spherical mounts. I compensate and pull back to level out the guns, pointing them straight back towards a quartet of faint streaks screaming up from the lower atmosphere.

  I hesitate for a moment. After all, the pilots of these ships are members of Athelonian Air Defense. My dad has friends in the AAD.

  Bright splashes of light erupt from the streaks and bolts of bright light carve through darkened space towards our ship. The first shot ricochets off the rear left of the ship and dissipates. The small jump ship shudders as three more shots scream overhead. The Athelonian Air Defense sure doesn't seem to share my hesitation at taking lives.

  With a shrug of my shoulders, I lean forward, pressing my face closer to a flip up scope that extends from the ceiling of the rounded chamber I'm sitting in. Within the sighting system I see the four streaks converge, then spread apart, as they swing around to come up on each side of us.

  With a gentle twist I dial up the magnification to zoom in tight on the lead fighter. I catch a familiar icon on its rear stabilizer. The Iridium Squadron . . . It had to be them.

  "Northstar! What are you waiting for?" Gragson yells from the pilot's seat. "They're gaining on us on each flank!"

  How do I tell him? How do I tell my new Bragdon friends that my father is a member of Iridium Squadron and that their pilots have been guests at our house for dinner. How can I—

  The jump ship rocks left, as an echoing thud bellows from my right.

  "Plasma hit!" Luxen shouts. "Direct shot on our starboard side!"

  "If you're not going to fire, get out of the gunner's seat!" Gragson yells back as he pitches the ship forward, diving under a deadly cross-section of white energy. I shake my head to clear the memories and thrum my fingers on the handles.

  "Sorry! I'm sorry! I'm on it!"

  I snap the controls in opposite directions and the rotating pod swivels left, all four barrels coming around to my left. I line up the barrels on one of the approaching ships. Leading the approaching streak just a little, I squeeze the trigger, arcing bright energy through the noiseless void of space. The ship slams apart, flashing a bright bloom of spent fuel, then spraying shards of space ship in a rippling puff.

  Not even waiting for the light of that explosion to fade, I dip down then whip right, spraying more plasma in a tight, curved trajectory. One of the Iridium Squadron pulls up sharply, but not before twin bolts of energy smash apart the left wing, sending the remaining parts of the ship cartwheeling end-over-end through the vastness of space.

  "Nicely done!" Gragson says, banking the ship back right. "Hold on, we have three more converging ahead."

  As he orients the ship to fire upon the approaching Athelonians I compensate with the rear turret and fire again, walking all four barrels up the center of a third approaching star fighter, carving jagged sparks in its composite hide.

  I turn away as it breaks apart, trying not to imagine the pilot hurtling from the carcass of his ship. As I adjust the turret again, another volley of return fire soars towards me, pelting the hard outer shell of the jump ship, and knocking chunks of hull out into space.

  The ship jolts, but holds together, and up near the front I can hear the nose turrets chirping and the quiet triumph of Gragson as he tears up enemies ahead of us.

  The last star fighter at our rear screams past the clear turret, revealing its underbelly. I twist the cannons, trying to track it, but it banks hard right and dives away, causing my gunfire to stream wide left.

  This guy can fly.

  "Uh, Brie?" Luxen says, his voice a muffled hush of concern.

  "Hold up, Luxen," I reply, twisting again, making another adjustment, and firing all four barrels. One lucky shot wings the left thruster of the retreating fighter, but it compensates with the other three and rights itself, coming back around.

  "Brie, we've got trouble!"

  I turn towards Luxen, trying not to be angry, but failing. "Little busy here!"

  "We're about to be busier." He gestures out the small window in front of him, but I don't have the right angle to see what he's looking at.

  Behind us, the last star fighter must have come back around while I wasn't paying attention because a volley of plasma smashes into the rear of the ship below the mounted turret. Sparks and metal blast from the hull of the ship as three of the four barrels rend free of the main cannon, spiraling out into space. The clear rounded shell cracks, but holds.

  "Come on!" I scream. I push away from the seat, jumping down to the metal floor, landing in a crouch. "Rear guns are toast!" I shout as I run towards Luxen. The ship is thrashing and I can barely keep my balance.

  A glance out of the side window on the young Bragdon's left causes my mouth to drop wide open. Flicks of light are everywhere against the blackness of space, blinking into illumination and growing larger.

  "There must be an entire Athelon fleet out there," Luxen says quietly. "They're not letting you go easily."

  "We've got more trouble!" Gragson yells from the front as he pulls back on the controls, trying to bank the jump ship away from the approaching fleet. "More star fighters coming at us from ahead! Six... no seven!"

  The ship lurches forward and down, sending both me and Luxen into clumsy stumbles. Two other Bragdons emerge from side chambers and run out into the hallway, weapons clutched in their four-fingered hands.

  "What should we do?" one of them asks.

  "Nothing we can do!" Gragson replies.

  Up the hallway, out the front canopy, I see the ships swarming towards us, energy exploding. Three rapid slams echo from the front, sending the ship tumbling left, in a clumsy, uncontrolled barrel roll, and us toppling over ourselves, bouncing off walls, and slamming into the curved ceiling.

  Somehow I stay conscious through the increasing g-force and the rapid pounding of my head and body against the unrelenting metal of the inner hull. One last pop and bang rebounds off the inner walls towards the rear, signaling the loss of a thruster.

  "I'm cutting power," Gragson reports from the pilot's seat. "Conserving for life support. Thruster three is dead. I'm shutting down the other four."

  As he's speaking, the background noise that we've all become accustomed to on this ship, or any ship, starts dying down, fading to a strange haunting silence, as if we're all in this large metal tomb floating in nothing.

  I see the approaching lights of Athelon ships closing in to surround us, and this whole endeavor seems wholly without point. I killed Athelonians. I destroyed ships belonging to my father's squadron... why? For what? So we could delay the inevitable?

  The surrounding lights grow larger and I settle my breathing, waiting for the boarding party to arrive.

  Chapter Two

  I didn't even realize there were that many Athelonian star fighters . . . the lights keep flickering to life in the vastness of dark space, like dozens of additional stars growing to supernova.

  "What do we do?" Luxen asks, a completely sensible question, given our current state.

  "Are we going to drift here until they come get us?" I ask.

  "I'm thinking," Gragson growls, his voice soaked with its normal Bragdon gravel.

  I glance out the side windows. "They're coming from the front and the starboard; we're clear on the port side. How fast can this thing go?"

  "With one dead thruster not nearly fast enough," he replies as he looks over the controls and appears to be doing some mental math. He halts as he passes over one of the scanners. "Hold up," he whispers.

  I stand and walk forward down the central aisle, heading towards the cockpit. "What did you find?"

  He looks over his shoulder at me. "You can remain seated,"
he growls. "This isn't a situation you can help with."

  I can't help but smirk. "Hey, you're the one who traveled through hyperspace to an enemy planet to kidnap me, scales."

  All I hear is a ragged grumble as he dials up the sensitivity settings on the long range scanners.

  That's when I sense it. There's this strange shift in the very gravity of space itself as if we're passing by a large moon or asteroid belt. The ambient light of the surrounding stars dims and through the windows things seem to darken like they're in shadow.

  "Uh, Gragson?" I ask. "Might want to switch to short range scanners."

  He notices the dimming light and leans forward, glancing up out of his front window. "By the Elders," he mutters.

  "Is that good or bad?" I ask. He shrugs in reply.

  Gragson twists towards us as the two other Bragdons hurry towards the cockpit.

  "Oh, it's good!" he shouts. "It's very good!"

  I join the other Bragdons, making my way up to the cockpit to get a look outside the front window at the large, vague shape now casting a broad shadow down around us. As I watch, the shadow forms into a massive, cylindrical shape with angular panels bolted together. Though it has a rudimentary torpedo shape, it is much larger than a regular projectile. Triangular stabilizers are in abundance with two huge rounded wings thrust out, each one carrying eight smaller cylinders underneath which appear to be hyperspace thrusters.

  Once upon a time I had no idea what a hyperspace thruster was, even if I stumbled on it in a labeled diagram. That time has past, and once again I'm surprised by the vastness of my previously limited knowledge.

  "The Battle Cruiser Rolixander," Gragson says quietly, as if in awe. "Command ship of the Braxis fleet."

  My eyes widen. The command ship? That sounds important. Braxis sent out their command ship? To pick me up? I'm not sure how to process this information.

  Realization starts to hit me.

  "Wait. Is that Battle Cruiser going to attack those star fighters?" I know the answer already. Even as I ask, I see the flickering lights breaking away and streaking in different directions, trailing fuel and cooling flame. Dozens of Athelonians are out there . . . hundreds. How many are destined to die in the next ten minutes?