by John Walker
Triton
The Descendants War
Book 1
John Walker
Copyright © 2020 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
Commander Titus Barnes struggles to save his ship.
War brews on the horizon and the crew of the TCN Triton get caught in the middle. When they answer a distress call from one of their colonies on the edge of their space, they end up outmatched and outgunned by an unknown force. This conflict may well push humanity into a new age…or spell the beginning of the end for their race.
Meanwhile, two archaeologists work to uncover evidence of alien life on a far off planet. As they make what might be the biggest discovery of the human race, their activities trigger an alert, drawing dangerous forces to investigate. Cut off from any quick help and on their own, they must use every trick at their disposal to stay alive.
Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
Prologue
Alon Dess tossed his jacket over the farmer, slapping him in an effort to put out a blaze. The man’s screams competed with the bombardment going on all around them; a series of explosions as the orbiting invaders rained down hell upon the colony. Smoke and dirt filled the air, with flashes in the clouds offering the only warning before additional strikes pounded the area.
The attack seemed to come without warning. Alon happened to be on patrol, checking the perimeter of the administrative district. Their town had grown considerably though they were still within their first five years.
Militia members tended to only break up drunken brawls between farmers. Even pirates and raiders knew not to bother them. They didn’t have anything worth taking.
This isn’t about theft.
Alon stopped his efforts. The farmer stopped moving and quit making noise. His body went limp. All the tension left. He’d been in a building that had taken a direct hit. Of those inside, he was the only one to stumble out, completely consumed by flames. Alon had tackled him to the ground and batted at him, but chances were good the man had already died.
Other bodies littered the street. Pieces of them, anyway. Those who weren’t so lucky, those who took direct hits from the bombardment had been scattered like breadcrumbs. Few people came out of the buildings after they were hit. Alon heard them shouting at one another, telling them to get inside.
Fear made them sign their own death warrants.
Craters appeared around him, explosions rattling his bones. Alon’s ears rang as he shuffled away. It seemed like a miracle he’d survived as long as he had. Stumbling to his feet, he made his way toward the command center. Fortified walls might withstand a few hits, and their bunker certainly offered some protection.
Too bad none of the civilians thought clearly enough to get there. He seemed to be the only militia soldier on the street trying to help. The fact his peers weren’t around either meant they were rallying or hiding. Could he blame them? Not with everything happening. Few had been trained for such an event.
The worst thing they had to worry about was pirate raids. But someone had thought otherwise by installing the bunker as one of the first buildings in the colony. Rumor suggested it had been there merely to protect the early inhabitants from poor weather or unknown predators. Regardless, it represented a chance for survival.
If I can get there, maybe we can find some help.
He didn’t know who was alive or not. His comm had gone out just after the first blast. At first, he had been listening to Krinden sing badly, and then it started buzzing. By the time he had tapped the earpiece, the first explosion had caught his attention. Just outside the wall, a plume of fire and smoke was rising some fifty feet in the air.
Those are military grade weapons.
The thought came to him as he ran down the street. All the buildings seemed to be on fire. Not one of those in the commercial district had survived the initial attack. I wonder who managed to make it. The command center looked okay. Through the floating smoke and debris, he saw the glistening metal walls… a beacon of hope.
At least for now.
Some of his peers stood outside near the stairs, aiming their weapons outward. As he approached, Alon shouted, waving his hand over his head. He had lost his rifle when he’d brought the burning man to the ground and had forgotten to pick it up. Given the circumstances, he didn’t see what use it would have been anyway.
“Hey!” Alon reached the stairs. “What’re we doing?”
The others were covered in dirt. Some of them were hard to distinguish. He recognized Krinden, though. He stood nearest, wearing a grim expression. He kept his attention outward as he spoke. “We’re in trouble. Dunno who these bastards are. They won’t answer hails. And they’re sending down landing parties right now.”
“What?” Alon looked around. “I have to get another gun!”
“Better get your ass inside then,” Krinden gestured with his head, “you don’t have long. Look.”
Alon followed his gaze. Several objects were on approach, descending swiftly. He guessed they’d land in the fields out near the closer farms. Why bother to land after what they’ve done? He rushed inside, taking a hard left into the armory. Normally, they kept the door locked, but he found it wide open.
Snatching a rifle, he groped for some grenades in the drawer. They were all gone… well over a dozen. He hurried outside to the others. Krinden stood behind some temporary cover, a metal wall erected for protection. Each of them aimed their weapons down the street in the direction of the incoming vehicles.
Four of them standing alone.
“Where is everyone else?” Alon asked. “We can’t be the only ones.”
“No one else has checked in.” Krinden shrugged. “Comms are down. They’re trying to get things working inside. Lucky for us, they sent a distress call as soon as these weirdos showed up. Before they jammed everything.”
“So we’ve got some help coming,” Alon said. “That’s great!” He swallowed hard. “Why… why are we staying right here? This is the most obvious place for them to come. Shouldn’t we get to the bunker? Or even leave? Those farms… the people… we could get out there and help them.”
“This is the rally point,” Krinden replied. “It’s where anyone who is still alive will come.” He paused. “Listen. I haven’t heard an explosion in almost a minute.”
Alon hadn’t noticed, but once it was pointed out it became obvious. After softening the target, the enemy had stopped so they could send an invasion force. He couldn’t make out the vehicles themselves other than the fact they were dark blots against the sky. They landed out of sight, blocked off by the smolderin
g buildings that remained standing.
“Who are they, Krinden?” Hiller asked the question. Alon hadn’t recognized him. He’d been hurt somehow, some of his hair was missing, and he was covered in blood and filth. “Do you have any idea?”
“Afraid not.”
The answer scared Alon more than the invaders. Krinden had worked for the military before joining the colony as his retirement. At forty years old, he’d seen a lot of action in his time. If he didn’t know who they were facing, it meant they were about to encounter a new threat… a burgeoning faction of criminals.
Who don’t know they shouldn’t waste time with fledgling colonies! Alon felt like they needed to get moving. Those who worked outside the confines of the colonial walls had no protection; no means to defend themselves. They needed to be evacuated and brought somewhere safe. I can get them to the bunker.
Much as he wanted to go inside himself and lock the doors.
“I’m going to help,” Alon said. “I’m heading out south to bring back civilians.”
“We need you here,” Krinden replied. “We need every gun we can to defend the command center.”
“I counted eight of those things coming down. Even if they only have four guys each, we’re outnumbered dramatically. Hiding behind this temporary thing won’t do shit.” Alon shook his head. “No, if we’re going to survive this, we need to be mobile. Nimble. Even if all of us were here and available…”
“He’s right.” Krinden nodded. “Move out, guys. We’ll hit them from the sides as they enter the colony when we loop around.”
Thank God.
Alon had figured they wouldn’t listen and that he’d be on his own. They moved out, heading away from the enemy’s landing zone and into the open field behind the command center.
The planet had been deemed safe. Surveys showed there weren’t even any particularly dangerous predators living there. The wall should’ve been completed years earlier but no one had bothered. Having it open in the back allowed the farmers an easier way to get their goods into the marketplace.
And the guards liked not having to travel the entire perimeter to get to command.
A pillar of smoke rose in the distance… the farmhouse Alon had planned on visiting. He turned to the others. Krinden scowled, and he directed them to follow him, leading the crew around the buildings on the outside. They double-timed it, hustling until they had line of sight on the invaders’ landing zone.
They had set up the colony in the grasslands. Rivers provided plenty of water for the different farms but their hub sat in the middle of an open plain. The enemy ships touched down in a perimeter centered around a burnt-out home. Humanoid figures disembarked, forming a perimeter around their vessels.
They wore black armor that glistened in the sun. They carried strange weapons that ended in points, like spears. Alon wondered if they might be melee only until one pointed it at the house. A red beam struck the side, igniting the wood in an instant. A distant scream rang out over the plain… a woman charged out with her hands up.
The invaders blasted her at least half a dozen times. Alon’s face went numb as the blood rushed from his cheeks. He watched parts of her melt as she collapsed in the dirt. Had he been any closer, he imagined the details would’ve been that much more horrifying. All eyes turned to Krinden.
“Did I just see that?” Hiller asked. “What the hell was that thing? Have you guys ever encountered a weapon like that? Was it a laser?”
“Impossible,” Krinden said. “No one has that kind of technology. No one!” He took aim with his rifle. “We’re too far away out here. I’m counting… twelve of them milling about. We have a chance. We’ll have to take it. Keep them pinned down while the civilians get to safety. Even if that means running away.”
“There are more,” Alon pointed, “look over there.” On the other side of the farm, another ten of the invaders moved about, checking the area as they did. “What’re we going to do? Attacking seems fruitless. Perhaps we should get out of here. Gather the others and make for the wilderness. Scatter.”
Krinden rubbed his chin, smearing dirt as he did. He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what we can do. But…” Before he could finish his statement, a rousing shout caught their attention, coming from the left. Ten of their own, militiamen with projectile weapons, charged the enemy position.
“Shit!” Krinden slapped his leg. “Come on! We have to support them!” He darted away with Hiller and the other men in tow.
Alon hesitated. He felt like they were on the verge of committing suicide. They still had no idea how many invaders were out there or if more happened to be inside the ships. Furthermore, those vehicles likely had some form of defenses as well… turrets or guns that could be fired from inside.
You’re all fools!
Frustration seized him, followed by guilt. He didn’t want to let them go on alone but his legs wouldn’t respond. Instead of charging, he went prone in the grass… watching the action. He figured no one could see him from that vantage. It was a fantastic place to hide.
Or cower. I have to keep it real here.
The ten militia soldiers continued shouting as they opened fire. Their weapons barked with rapid-fire projectiles, bullets tapping the sides of the ships as well as chewing up dirt around the enemy. The initial assault caused the invaders to find cover before they returned fire, tearing into their attackers with sickening accuracy.
Alon watched as a beam cut one of the men in half, separating his top half from the bottom in a second. An arm came free on another, leaving him a bleeding, screaming mess in the field. Their weapons seemed to have no effect on their opponents, even those that scored direct hits to the head or chest.
What the hell are they wearing?
Alon’s stomach flipped as his own crew made it to the perimeter of the farm. They threw grenades, chucking them as fast as they could be primed. The explosions drove the enemy back to their ships. At least one of them dropped unmoving to the ground.
So they’re not invulnerable.
“Move!”
Krinden’s voice made it back to him though only faintly. Especially over the screams and cries of the dying. He waved his arm before charging the vehicles. A beam burst from the side of the nearest ship, obliterating Hiller into a pillar of steam. The others continued running… only to be annihilated as the attack swept over them.
The rest of the militia had been cut down, stopped in their tracks. The enemy soldiers moved through, blasting each one a final time in the head before marching toward the colony. Alon hyperventilated, shaking uncontrollably. He threw up, shuffling back from the vomit though he felt weak.
I’m going to die here.
Alon touched his earpiece again, tapping it several times in an effort to find a channel that might work. “Hello?” He whispered, though even at full voice, he was too far away to be heard by anyone. “Is anyone out there? Can you hear me? This is Alon Dess… I need help! Please respond!”
A long moment of silence greeted him. Only the beat of his heart accompanied by rustling grass greeted him. He didn’t know what to do. My only hope is to hide… wait for the military. And pray they arrived soon. The enemy soldiers advanced on the command center. The place would be theirs soon.
And Alon could do nothing about it.
Chapter 1
Commander Titus Barnes stepped onto the bridge of the TCN Triton, pausing as the elevator door shut beside him. He’d been the first officer of the battleship for eight months, serving under Rudy Barrington. The assignment had been something of a disappointment. After a year at the helm of a destroyer, he had expected an upgrade.
Many had told him the position should’ve been considered an advancement. It had been hard to stomach. Rudy represented everything wrong with the Terran Colonial Navy and the fact he happened to be nearly sixty-three didn’t help either. Older minds struggled to embrace change or new ideas. This had led to a series of conflicts between them.
Titu
s had implemented several policies aboard his previous post that had worked well. Morale had soared. His people had thrived, and their records all showed marked improvement over their previous arrangements. Once he set foot on the Triton, all that had stopped. The crew didn’t seem unhappy, but there was a lot of room for improving efficiency.
None of which Rudy wanted to hear.
Titus hadn’t turned forty yet. Rumor suggested his CO didn’t care for anyone of Commander rank under forty-five. They never had the conversation directly though it didn’t matter. Enough small things came up to make the perspective a reality. One of their pilots, Jane Bennet, recently took her Lieutenant’s exam at the age of twenty-two.
Rudy had told Titus in private that he wished she had waited and gotten more experience. Regulations allowed her to try for the commission after one year of service. She’d spent two behind the controls of a destroyer and then the Triton. During a private personnel meeting, Titus had encouraged her to go out for it.
The captain had made it clear he’d be recommending against her receiving the full commission. Which was just another reason to find him infuriating.
Standing six feet, Titus favored his father. Rough around the edges, black hair, brown eyes… he had naturally tan skin from his mother’s side. The colony where he grew up had been known for agriculture, offering hard work for anyone. When he had turned sixteen, he’d applied for the military academy and gotten in.
He’d never looked back.
Lieutenant Commander Ronin James turned to Jane, his co-pilot. “Reduce speed on my mark,” he said, then to the rest of the room added, “we’ll be leaving warp speed in twenty seconds, sir. Our destination is dead ahead.”
“Very good,” Rudy said. “Titus, we’re responding to a distress signal in the Gerdon System.”
Titus frowned as he took his seat beside the captain. The bridge layout had two pilots directly ahead of them. The viewscreen took up the entire wall. Their tech officer, Violet Cromwell, sat on the left with a variety of consoles for scans, communications, and system operations. An empty space on the opposite side allowed for additional personnel to work.