by Justin Bell
I turn back towards the window and look out, watching the glittering globe draw closer.
"So, this is on purpose? This is your doing?" I ask.
"Yes. We must meet up with the Reblon resistance to get them on board. Only with their support, can we possibly convince the others that you are real."
"I'm not even convinced that I'm real!"
He's not smiling. Not anymore. "Get convinced, Brie Northstar. Convince yourself so you can convince others. The fate of Yarda Quadrant could hang in the balance."
"No pressure." I state with customary sarcasm.
He leans back without answering and closes his eyes. His chest draws deep and releases, and moments later seems to be asleep.
Nothing makes sense. It kind of starts to make sense, but then it doesn't really make sense. I spent hours trying to get away from a planet full of angry, fur covered Reblon commandos, and now I'm flying towards a planet full of angry, fur covered Reblon commandos.
That's the story of my life over the past month.
What does make sense, is that I'm running low on fuel, and if I don't want to float adrift for the rest of my long life, I need to find a place to go. Reblox might be the only choice I have.
With a slight adjustment of my wrist I engage the thrusters, applying minimal power to propel the ship forward towards the shining orb ahead. I ease the ship into a flat trajectory, matching the planet's lazy outward spin, and put it down into Reblox atmosphere.
The sudden thrash and jerk threatens to tear the controls from my hands, but I hold tight. By stiffening my arms and tipping them forward, I'm able to push the ship down to match the planetary orbit.
Ahead of me the dark cone of the space craft begins to glow a dull crimson, but the hull holds together and the ship ceases its shaking as it drops me into normal air.
My eyes scan the horizon, taking in swaths of glittering buildings. Tall structures stretch up towards space. The Sol-star reflecting from them, casts them in a pale gold.
My eyes lock on a darkened corner. An area to my left, cast in shadow from the massive buildings, seems . . . away from the rest. This is the northwest sector, under the shadows of the Reblon capital.
It seems to me that landing this ship in the middle of Reblon civilization is a very bad idea, so I point it towards that darkened shadow to begin my descent into the next adventure in this strange series of events that has become my life pattern.
Hopefully the Bragdon Elder is just sleeping back there, because once I land, I'm going to need all hands on deck.
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TO BE CONTINUED IN...
WAR OF THE THREE PLANETS (Book Four) – BIRTH OF REBELLION
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in San Diego, California, Justin Bell has lived most of his life in the sleepy Upper Valley area on the New Hampshire and Vermont border, near where The Fog of Dreams takes place. He first realized his love of writing at a young age and had grand visions to go to school for English. Somehow, he sidetracked into the world of Information Technology as a career, but throughout it all, he continued to write and write often.
The world of self-publishing has opened up his eyes, and in recent years, he has embraced writing much more thoroughly, polishing some work from past decades, and working on new material as well.
With an interest in military adventure, science fiction, and action, the focus of most of his work is within those genres.
He currently still resides in the Upper Valley area, and lives with his two beautiful little girls, his wife, and his part Bichon/part Rottweiler dog Maxwell.
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