Rebellion: Rise Of Mankind Book 7

by John Walker

  Rebellion

  Rise Of Mankind

  Book 7

  John Walker

  Copyright © 2017 John Walker

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  DISCLAIMER

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This story contains explicit language and violence.

  Blurb

  The crew of the Earth ship Behemoth has been busy. Their latest assignment against the Orion’s Light terrorists has given them valuable insight into the workings of this new threat and boosted their already substantial credibility with Alliance High Command. Returning to discover when they might participate in the invasion of their true enemy’s home world, they find themselves brought into the shadowy world of Alliance Intelligence.

  Captain Atwell and his ship are directed to the Novalat system where a civil war rages. Their primary mission is to help settle the conflict so their allies can join in the real fight to come but secondarily, they are looking for signs of an intelligence officer who has failed to send word back to his superiors. Even with the secretive part, the mission seems fairly straightforward until they arrive and find the real hand behind the chaos raging throughout the region.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Trellan En’Dal dodged the blow meant for his face and retaliated with a punch to the gut. His opponent grunted, doubling over to offer a perfect target for a follow up. An uppercut sent the pirate stumbling backwards, collapsing on a table. Glasses shattered and drinks spilled on the floor but the man didn’t get up.

  Chaos followed. Men and women started brawling, some with cause and others simply because they enjoyed violence. Trellan squared off with a gerran, one of the fringe allies of the kielans. They looked much the same but gerran coloring tended toward darker skin and black hair. Their eyes didn’t have irises, making them somewhat unnerving to other races.

  Most of them were kind hearted but this guy packed a mean punch. Trellan blocked his first three punches but regretted not trying to dodge. A strike to the face made Trellan stumble and he dropped low, sweeping his attacker. The man hit the ground, his head bouncing on the hardwood. Dazed, he didn’t jump back up but another brawler took his place.

  Trellan needed to be careful about how he fought. Too much technique was just as bad as too little. Fighting sloppy when he could be so efficient made it possible for a guy like the pirate to get past his defenses and get a face shot. When the next guy came at him, instinct took over and he blocked the attack by grabbing the man’s forearm.

  The follow up involved dislocating the guy’s shoulder then pounding him in the sternum. As the guy dropped, he didn’t even make any sound. He couldn’t breathe and his arm wouldn’t cooperate. Someone else threw a glass at him but it missed. He flipped a table in their direction, causing them to stumble.

  As they tried to regain their footing, Trellan bound forward and worked their body with a number of blows to the sides and stomach. He moved upward, hammering their ribs and finally giving them a variety of shots to the face. To their credit, they didn’t move back until the end when the fell onto the bar where the bartender smashed a bottle of booze over their face.

  He meant it.

  A chair slammed into Trellan’s back and he spun to face another opponent, this one a thin guy holding the broken pieces of chair like they were a pair of swords. They only remained stationary for a moment before the fight started. Trellan blocked three shots aimed for his head and threw a kick, connecting with the guy’s abdomen.

  The blow sent him backwards into another table where he rolled over it and landed face down. A different fighter trampled him accidentally, falling beside him. Trellan took the opportunity to dash for the door, bursting outside into the light and away from the action.

  Another brawl, he thought. How many senseless bouts of violence am I going to have to get into to catch the eye of these bastards?

  Trellan got outside and inhaled a breath of fresh air. The sun was out, beaming down on the little dusty pirate town so far off the beaten path no one ever bothered to visit it. A failed colony attempt put it on the registry for the alliance as a waste of time so the riffraff took over. Temporary shanty towns sprung up all across the galaxy for less.

  Blood filled his mouth and he spat it out, moving down the street to find a different drinking establishment. He’d been thrown out of nicer and fled worse. Over six months of working the space lanes, robbing civilian crafts and going toe to toe with military scouts gave him a lean, tough approach to life.

  “Hey,” a voice from across the street shouted but he ignored it. “You there! With the orange hair!”

  Trellan fit the description. He favored his mother’s coloring, with long orange hair and teal eyes. He sported a beard to help toughen up his overall look. Without it, he lost ten years and held the intimidation value of a pet. Pausing in his step, he turned to look at the person but as he did, his hand rested on the butt of his gun.

  “What do you want?” Trellan asked.

  “To talk to you for a minute!” The person addressing him was also a kielan though much shorter, standing at less than five-six. His black hair was practically shaved and he had purple eyes. He wore a black uniform with an aged patch that had seen better days. If he’d been military, he left their employ. They’d never allow someone to let themselves look so shabby.

  “I’m listening. For now. Better make it fast.”

  “Name’s Vil and I’m hoping you’re for hire.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Trellan narrowed his eyes. “I’m not in a good mood so this better be good.”

  “You got a permanent boat?” Vil hurried across the street to stand near him. “As in a regular crew you roll with?”

  Trellan shook his head. “Freelancer. I haven’t found a group I’m willing to set up with. Been looking for the right cause.”

  These were the words he’d been practicing for a long time. Every job he took on, he made it clear he was on the hunt for a proper cause, something to believe in. He wanted to work with someone that had a vision of the future and provided some sense of purpose. Most laughed at him but Trellan knew of a particular group looking for the right folks.

  Those who fit the bill he was after didn’t accept applications though. They either drafted individuals or took on volunteers they approached. Trellan knew they favored efficiency and, quite frankly, an ability to be ruthless. He’d proven that plenty of times. He developed a reputation quickly but now, it needed to pay off.

  Trellan doubted Vil could help but he wanted to hear what he had to say.

  “I know what you mean, friend.” Vil smiled. “Truth is, I’ve got a gig for you. You’re handy with a gun, right? Handle yourself in a fight?”

  “You’d think with this bruise on my jaw you’d be wondering if that were true.”

  “Nah, I saw what you did
in the bar. That guy you knocked out was a real piece of work. He’ll start a brawl with anyone, especially folks he doesn’t know.”

  “Must have a lot of friends,” Trellan quipped.

  “Listen, I’ve got a ship with a small crew and we’re doing a huge job…bigger than we’ve ever been given before. If you’re interested, we’d love to have you onboard.” Vil leaned in close. “We actually picked up a contract from a notorious group, one I thought never went outside their own ranks. We’re going to make a fortune, man!”

  Trellan’s heart pounded in his chest but he didn’t let his excitement show. If these were the people he’d been after then Vil might be able to move him toward his goal after all. It may not be the actual in he wanted but one more check on the list wouldn’t hurt. Still, he had to be cautious. If these people were idiots, they’d potentially ruin his progress.

  “You seem a little enthusiastic,” Trellan said. “How good are your people? Are they going to be idiots? Cause some kind of trouble? I don’t want to get into something where I’ll look like a fool for going along with it. Plus, I need some more particulars. How illegal is this? What’re my chances of doing time in a slam?”

  “Hey, relax!” Vil patted his shoulder and Trellan scowled. “Er…sorry. We’re professionals. Seriously, we’ve never been caught or taken down by the cops. I promise you. We’ve got this and I guarantee you a sweet amount of cash to go along with your troubles. Just…you know…we need your gun.”

  “Who do you think you need to kill?”

  “We’re after data at a space station,” Vil replied. “Off the beaten path but in the heart of one of the alliance race’s home planets. Place has quite a few marines and I’m afraid there’s a ground op portion too. That’s why we need the extra help. We go in, drop security on the planet then download from the computer banks and get the hell out.”

  “Let me guess,” Trellan said, “no witnesses?”

  “We just have to wipe the computers,” Vil replied. “They didn’t specify about killing everyone or not but I’m sure it would be a lot easier than letting them live, am I right? Of course, that would only be on the station. Can’t kill everyone on a planet…right?”

  Tell that to the Orion’s Light, Trellan thought. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Have you ever done something like this before?”

  “Yeah, we took a high value target from the alliance before. Nailed a scout ship while it was in space dock.” Vil grinned. “We got a fortune in weapons. In fact, as part of your pay, we’ll give you one of their high end pistols and enough magazines for a month. Plus, we’ll take care of all expenses. Anything you use on the trip, we’ll pick up.”

  Trellan sighed. “I want to meet the rest of your crew before I agree to this. They’d better be as good as you say.”

  “Listen, I wouldn’t accept a job from the Orion’s Light without reliable people, believe me.” Vil gestured. “Come on, I’ll take you to the captain right now.”

  “So you’re not in charge?” Trellan figured as much but thought he’d poke fun at the guy. “What’s your role?”

  “Requisitions…and I think the captain figures I’m expendable so he sends me to talk to scary people like you.” Vil smiled as if trying to make sure his comment was a joke but Trellan believed there to be some truth in it. They headed down the street. “Anyway, I’ve been working with these guys for a long time and they’re hyper efficient. You’ll see.”

  “I’d better.” Trellan’s pulse raced and he had to take some calming breaths. This was as close to the Orion’s Light as he’d come since he began this assignment. If he could catch their notice here, everything he’d done would be worth it. Providing this crew could handle themselves as well as Vil said, he’d definitely take the job.

  Maybe then he could move on to his real objective of serving with Krilan Ar’Vax and his crusade.

  Here’s to hoping. Please don’t represent a bunch of losers, Vil. I need this. More than anything.

  ***

  Trellan boarded the space craft, leery of what he might be getting into. Every new job started out with a sense of danger, a worry concerning the people he was committing to work with. They all represented some unknown factor and he never knew whether they might be totally psychotic or genuine professionals.

  And still others wanted to roll the people they worked with, stealing whatever they had and leaving them for dead. Or worse, they turned out to be slavers, luring potential cargo into a trap. He’d had to fight his way out of that particular dilemma twice, leaving behind a lot of bodies before escaping.

  As he paced up the ramp into the cargo area, he quickly scanned the area for threats. Men hung around nearby but none of them seemed to pay him any attention. They worked, carrying out various duties without so much as looking up. Large boxes were lashed down, secured to thick metal floor plates.

  The crew didn’t seem too big on luxury. The entire area looked utilitarian, essentials only. Trellan admired people who worked lean. It meant they focused on the job and not frivolous, unnecessary luxury. He’d been putting that face forward in every task he took on, working toward what the Orion’s Light supposedly valued.

  They were also a group that didn’t bother with the finer things, focusing instead on duty.

  “You’re going to love our commander,” Vil said. “Real stickler like you. Totally focused, you know?”

  “Whatever,” Trellan replied. “Are we meeting this guy or what?”

  “Just this way.” Vil gestured up the stairs and took them two at a time. As they reached the landing, they took a left into an office. “We’ll meet in here.”

  The hair on the back of Trellan’s neck stood up. If someone decided to attack him in the little room, it would be a rough fight. He’d have to grab Vil for cover then work his way back out, through the cargo area with all those guys. As he recalled, they were definitely armed as well. That would be quite the brawl to get back to freedom.

  Another door opened and a bald man stepped in wearing utility overalls and a pistol low on his right hip. His tiny green eyes were made even smaller as he scowled. He sized up Trellan for a moment before sitting down. “This the new guy you found? He got a rep?”

  “His name’s Trellan En’Dal,” Vil replied. “You’ve heard of him. He’s the freelancer, been working for pirates and the like. I thought he’d be a perfect addition considering how many people we need for this one. I mean, we can’t be at every location at the same time, right? You said two crews for each assignment.”

  The captain nodded. “My name’s Derelict but you can call me Captain. What’ve you all done, Trellan?”

  “Hit jobs,” Trellan replied, “security details…soldier work. I’m better at the violent part of the craft but I’ve got some skill with a computer. You’d be better off with a specialist if you need to go beyond running some apps and breaking down some older style defenses.”

  “Good to know.” Derelict grinned. “Got a resume?”

  “Do you?” Trellan asked.

  Derelict laughed. “Okay, he seems pretty solid. Did you already talk terms?”

  “Sure did,” Vil replied. “We’re good to go if you’re fine with him.”

  “What do you say?” Derelict looked at Trellan. “You in?”

  “I’d like some more details before I fully commit. I know you can’t give me too many but what kind of opposition are we looking at on the surface?”

  “Good news, my friend. Hardly any.” Derelict stood up and paced. “The system’s in a state of conflict right now. Those bastards are in the middle of a civil war. Rebels are stirring up trouble, apparently thanks to the Orion’s Light. I guess insurrection is the way to their heart right now. As a result, they’ve hired us to hop in and take some important alliance data…sell it to them.”

  “Interesting.” Trellan turned away, pretending to consider the situation. He’d already made up his mind he’d do it. He might never get so close to the terrorists as this opportunity. �
�When do we head out?”

  “Ten hours and it’ll be a pretty fast paced situation too. Settle whatever debts you’ve got before then because we’re out of here with or without you…and I’d rather not think of you as an unfriendly sort for bailing on us. If you’re going to commit.”

  “I’m in,” Trellan said. “I just have to go pay my lodging bill and grab my gear. I can be back here in a couple hours. Got a place I can bunk down?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got a full crew module installed. You’ll be taken care of.” He gestured at Vil. “Get the contract ready for when he gets back. I want to make this as official as we can given what we do.”

  Trellan needed to get to a computer and fast. He didn’t have a lot of time to send any sort of message and after he boarded the ship with Derelict and his crew, he’d be off the grid entirely. The next ten hours were all he had left before he hopefully made contact with his intended berth, the Orion’s Light.

  Chapter 1

  Clea An’Tufal sat across from Durant in the engineering section as they ran independent scans on the sphere they took from a secret kielan monastery. Orion’s Light terrorists murdered countless people to get their hands on this device and no one really knew what it did. Unfortunately, it proved to be a mystery to the two investigators.

  The surface was made of a type of metal not registered within any alliance database however, they did know that it was incredibly tough. Scans indicated their most powerful cutting torches might melt it but they did warn anything inside may be damaged if not outright destroyed.

  It wasn’t emitting any sort of signal, but they were fairly certain it was some kind of technical device. Though an hour into their probing, Durant did suggest it may simply be a bauble, some kind of decorative object the enemy favored. Clea wondered how true that would be. Orion’s Light believed the device might somehow make the enemy their allies.