THE FIRST DAWN
BOOK ONE OF THE SCI-CORP WAR SAGA
A NOVEL BY JUSTIN ALEXANDER
Copyright © 2013 Justin Alexander
Reproduction or transmission of this book, in whole or part, by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or by any other means is strictly prohibited, except with prior written authorisation from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, places, and incidents described within are purely the work of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead or life events are purely coincidental.
Cover image © Justin Alexander 2013, original images courtesy of NASA/JPL Caltech and Lee Cannon, Flickr.com/photos/leecannon
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is dedicated to my Mum, who not only raised me on her own, but also always encouraged my love of books as well as my writing, even when I had doubts. This novel and I wouldn’t be the same without you.
And to Olivia, who without even realising it, managed to help me get back on the path to writing.
And finally to all those that are still struggling to express the book they have inside them, if I can do it anyone can.
As I have edited this myself, I have endeavoured to make sure there aren’t any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors, however if there are any I hope they will not spoil your enjoyment of the story.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THRITY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
AUTHORS NOTE
“The war is already lost, the Council will finally fall and the last of its mighty Empire will be put to flame.”
The year is 2320, as one mighty Empire falls, another flourishes. Humanity has reached out to the heavens, conquered new Worlds and spread to the stars. Yet in the dark reaches of unknown space an ancient evil stirs, and it has turned its ravenous eyes towards us. We are the final beacon of light within the gloom, and the darkness is coming.
At traveller’s gate, on the very edge of Earth controlled space, two disparate events will bring about the start of the final war of mankind. The first is the return of a long lost Ark ship, “The Eclipse One,” which vanished over two hundred years ago. Here, Captain Daniel “Lone star” Miller, a man still haunted by a horrific childhood trauma, along with his special Marine search and rescue team will set foot onto this haunted leviathan. Within its shadows they will glimpse a snapshot of the future, and our own doom. While at a secure military installation on a barren colony, Agent Clarissa Fletcher, an orphan abandoned to the cruel arms of the Sci-Corp, will witness a top secret experiment come to fruition. It’s goal to search out the cold expanse of the universe, and discover finally if we are truly alone. To these two and others will be given a glimpse of the terror that is coming to consumer us all.
The final battle has begun for the very soul of humanity. We are not ready, or even aware that our own destruction is at hand and time sadly, grows short.
“It is easy to go down into Hell.
Night and day, the gates of dark death stand wide;
But to climb back up again, to retrace one’s steps to the upper air-
There’s the rub,
That is the task.”
Virgil, The Aeneid
PROLOGUE
PLANET VOLIDUS, FIVE BILLION LIGHT YEARS FROM EARTH
The war is already lost, the Council will finally fall and the last of its mighty Empire will be put to flame. The sentient storm of conflict has ravaged this place, and now it is little more than a smouldering shell. The very air hangs heavy with the stench of death. The cries of the wounded commingled with the sound of weapon discharges and the bestial screams of the enemy, to create a horrific symphony of carnage. Some said that it was God himself. Conducting the final death throes of this once great realm, yet whatever being had watched over this place, had long since abandoned it to its fate. There would be no great miracle here, no saviour, no great victory or heroic last stand, no knight upon a white horse, they were the stuff of stories and they had no place here.
Projectile weapon’s roared and thundered all along the trench. As the last remnants of the Councils once mighty army, fought a last ditch battle to save this World, and everything they cared about. Thousands of explosive tipped rounds tore into the approaching enemy ranks, hundreds of the fiends died in the fusillade and the attack was broken, at least for now. War-chief Talius Symonds threw the rifle away when it went dry, he knew that he had no more ammo for it anyway, and instead turned his attention to the retreating Dark Ones. Their monstrous and misshapen forms, enough to cause even the strongest heart to falter. The enemy though never withdrew for long, they had bought themselves some time and that would have to do.
He pulled the serrated knife from its scabbard on his waist, a present from his spouse’s father, and all that was left now of the life he had known. For a brief instance, he saw all those that had been lost, and he could feel tears well in his eyes. The blade roared to life and he could sense the soft hum of the energy coursing through it. The weapon felt comforting in his clawed hands, the last link he had to all those that had gone now to the great plain, leaving him alone, the last of his line and race.
A high explosive shell, detonated near him, and shredded a group of huddled soldiers. Turning them into a miasma of flesh and bone, which rained down from the sky like some kind of hellish drizzle unleashed from a nightmare.
He had no idea how many of the males and females under his command had already perished. Yet In the month since the enemy had launch this final assault on the last world of the Empire, it must have been in the tens of thousands. Tragically this was little more than a drop within the ocean, compared with the trillions that had been slaughtered over the course of this conflict.
Talius spat out a mouthful of coagulated blood and dirt. Almost instinctively he swung around, and saw his second in command bounding towards him. He was almost transfixed by the grey fur which covered the gargantuan, animalistic frame and appeared to ripple with each movement.
“What news Yodat?” Talius asked, his own voice doused with tension.
Yodat came up
to his full height and slapped a balled hand into his chest, a mark of both respect and loyalty. “All the other units have either fallen to the enemy, or begun a full blown retreat, we are the last.” Dark eyes, that seemed to gleam like onyx, fastened on the horizon, and the mass of enemy troops who awaited them. “We will not hold for another night.”
Talius looked upon his old friend, and once more felt that familiar stab of regret. Not just for all that was lost, but for all that would not be and for the fall of this once mighty Empire of light. Yodat was an Alas, one of the most ancient and revered of the races that made up the Council. Although he walked upon his two hind legs it was clear, his ancestors had moved on all four. His figure heaved with muscles, all of which were covered in the glistening silver pelt, which was now daubed with war paints of various hues.
Talius sighed and shuttered his own three eyes for an instance. Already he knew what must be done, “Prepare to pull back those still able to move and capable of fighting.”
Yodat’s nostril splayed, and he flashed his sharpened fangs. “I will not abandon the line War-chief, you cannot ask me to spit on my honour, or that of my clan. I will stand and fight, as is our way.”
Talius had to stretch in order to slap his hand upon his friends shoulder. “Nothing more can be done here old friend, you will take the rest of the troops back. Hopefully the exit through the shield is still holding and you will live at least another night.” His own mournful gaze drifted over the bodies of those who had already been slain, and once more he envisioned his own children. All ten of them lost now, to this never ending game of war. “You will be able to see your son again.”
Yodat howled, his own rage bubbled just beneath the surface. “I will not leave you, my friend, not to die at the hands of those fiends.” Talons reached out towards the enemy ranks.
“That is my choice,” he sighed. “Now go we have little time before the enemy return, gather the troops and make for the shield. I will stay here with those that are too injured to be moved and we will journey to the Great Plains together.”
Yodat’s elongated features were set in an impassive mask, yet his jaw was tense with grim determination. “As is your will War-Chief,” he reached one of his own paws across and placed it on Talius hand. “May the light shine upon you always my friend, and lead you home.”
“May you never walk within the shadow,” Talius replied coarsely, emotion wilting slightly his own reserve.
Yodat didn’t say another word, he simply spun around, and vaulted away. He would lead the last of the troops on the long retreat back to the shield, which now encompassed, and protected the last city on the planet. The final bastion of light against the darkness.
Talius strode down the trench line, encouraging those troops that could, to evacuate, and tried to offer some comfort to any that were too badly incapacitated to be moved. Some healers choose to stay and try and alleviate what suffering they could. He shifted his gaze to the pot-marked battlefield. He could see the enemy massing for another onslaught, and he knew this would be the last. He craned his neck, and observed Yodat leading the soldiers out of the foxhole, and across the plateau, towards the shimmering aura, that now embraced the still smoking and skeletal remains of the metropolis.
All he could do now was hope that they could make it safely through the shield, and could perhaps live, even if just for a few more hours. He fixed his eyes back on the beast’s, rows of fiery eyes found him in the shade and not for the first time fear ripped through his soul like the icy-talons of some kind of primal beast.
“So this is how it will end,” He whispered as he glanced down at a young female soldier. A healer was hunkered at her side, fighting a desperate battle to steam the bleeding from a deep laceration. He wished that he could do something more, some support he could muster or some relief he could supply, yet he could do nothing. This was not a time of heroes, or last minute rescues, that was for children’s stories and they had no place here. In reality this was how most wars ended, with bloody screams and death.
Talius hoisted himself out of the earthen breastworks, and strode towards the enemy. They seemed like an almost unbreakable line of bleakness, which stretched off for as far as he could see. An undulating sea of Cimmerian darkness.
“I am ready!” he proclaimed. As he drew the blade over his palm, the superheated edge sliced through and then cauterized the flesh. He held the wound aloof, so that the Dark Ones could see. It was an ancient ritual and a mark of honour.
The creatures responded by surging forward. To Talius it appeared like an infinite sea of shadows, rolling towards him.
“I face the darkness,” He whispered. As he pulled the detonator from his belt, “And my heart remains strong.” He placed his thumb over the trigger, “I see the enemy and know his strength. Yet I am unbowed, I stand amid the light and I will not fear the shadows.”
The stench of death filled his acute nostrils, and he barred his eyes tightly. “I am coming my love.” He murmured as he activated the detonator and suddenly his world was bathed in light.
CHAPTER ONE
Karolina Azraka stood motionless. A dark silhouette against the soft violet of the dusk sky, and around her the once great metropolis lay in ruins. Thick plumes, of caustic black smoke still rose from the piles of burnt masonry and crumbling foundations. She had no way of knowing how many had died here already, yet it would be in the billions. So many slaughtered, so many lives cut short as the darkness moved to finally extinguish the light from this universe.
Above her head snowy ash, drizzled from heavy, mercury clouds. Already it had begun to settle and was rapidly encompassing almost every surface. To her it had the look of some sort of apocalyptic snowstorm. For some reason she imagined Christmas back home and her Mother hanging stockings. Except here you would find no tree, no presents, no here, you would only find death.
Behind her she sensed movement. It wasn’t a conscious reaction, it was as if some kind of primitive defence mechanism had been piqued, and once again she felt an unknown power begin to course through her veins. Her gloved hand arched instinctively to the hilt of the ornate sword that hung loosely from the scabbard on her waist.
Karolina swung round and caught sight of the old man strumming happily on a guitar, his eyes barred tightly, and his feet tapping rhythmically on the scorched earth. He was sitting on a half collapsed wall, seemingly unaware of the carnage all around, or even the danger he was currently in.
“What are you doing out here?” She asked cautiously. Never taking her hand from the grip of her weapon.
The wizened bard didn’t reply, instead he continued his musical interlude and now the chords found her. The music itself carried on the light evening breeze, melancholy, and filled with a deep and haunting sorrow.
She felt tears trickle down her blanched cheeks and a wave of emotion washed over her. She envisioned of all those that had died, the numbers too high for her to fully comprehend. Families torn from each other and lives cut so painfully short. She thought also of her own pain, and the demon that still haunted her.
She glanced over, the old man had stopped his serenade and was just staring at her. Kind eyes, almost shrouded by thick, bushy brown eyebrows that were flexed with grey.
When he finally spoke, his voice resonated within her, “Like you I wanted to bear witness to this loss.” He began again to gently pluck the strings, and the mournful tune started anew. “You can feel the sadness too, can’t you, as if somehow the very air carries it?”
“Who are you?” she enquired. Avoiding his question artfully. As he was right, she did feel it, the crushing weight of the countless souls that had been slaughtered here. If she closed her eyes she could picture sinking into the ocean. She could feel the pressure of the water upon her as she dropped further into the darkness, towards the unfathomable depths and the spirits that haunted it.
His voice sang to her again, yanking her free, from the all-consuming bleakness. “Do not let the pain overwhelm you chi
ld, for it that happens then all will be lost.”
Her eyes come open and she edged closer to this strange songsmith. As she drew near, she was able to take in his whole appearance. His body was shrouded by a simple blue robe, his face was an ancient map, of deep grooves and wrinkles. The olive skin itself had the look of leather that had been left out in the sun for too long. It was all encompassed by lustrous, grey hair that seemed to gleam, in the last rays of the days light. To her he looked like some kindly old professor, a man of deep empathy and learning. It struck her like a bolt, that it had been so long since she had seen another human being, and perhaps this would be the last time.
Again she posed her question, “Who are you?”
He never shifted his gaze from the guitar, “My name is not important now, in fact I don’t even know if I remember it.”
“How did you get here?”
“Once again that is unimportant, so much is coming, so much that I wish I could tell you.”
Karolina felt her blood boiling as a primal tempest of rage was unleashed within her. It had nothing to do with this wizened musician, it was about the death and misery that had been delivered upon this World. The flames that had consumed entire galaxies. It was about the trillions that had been slain, or worse. About all that had been lost, and all that would soon fall. She wanted to scream and cry, to make her voice heard to whatever God still existed or cared. To demand answers, to know why all this suffering and pain was allowed to happen.
Now she directed all that pent-up emotion towards this enigmatic stranger. “Do you ever answer a question?” she bellowed.
He ceased playing, glanced towards her, and simply smiled. “Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t and sometimes I can’t.” Once again he continued his soulful tune.
The First Dawn (The Sci-Corp War Saga Book 1) Page 1