Atlas Arising

by Liam Scott

  ATLAS ARISING

  Atlas Awakening Series

  Book One

  By Liam Scott

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Liam Scott – All rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  This book is dedicated to my wife. My number one supporter and best friend for life.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One : Lunar Base One

  Chapter Two : The Red Colony

  Chapter Three : Science Division

  Chapter Four: The Nebula Lounge

  Chapter Five: Valles Marineris

  Chapter Six: The Constellation Cafe

  Chapter Seven: The Emily Randall

  Chapter 8: The Alliance

  Chapter Nine: The Mayhem

  Chapter Ten: The Artifact

  Prologue

  I n the days before, the countless souls that inhabited planet Earth were content in their existence. The blazing sun nourished their gardens and the crescent moon fed their dreams as it rose high into the velvet-dark sky. Mankind only knew of the splendor of green grass, the cerulean blue of a summer sky. However, the Earth could only last so long beneath careless hands. The ones that came before abused the planet that they called home, draining its resources until the Earth had nothing left to give. The haven that had sheltered them, given them life and prosperity, was reduced to nothing but a desolate shell.

  Nautical storms, born of the ocean’s current and the fury of the sky, tore across the major coastal cities, decimating the populations within and leaving the land flooded and the cities submerged. Across North America, ravenous fires razed the western regions to the ground in a matter of weeks. Soon after, entire populations were felled by a strange flu-like sickness, and thousands were rapidly obliterated across Southeast Asia and the African continent.

  Factions rose to power in the wake of ruin. From the scattered ashes, the Alliance was forged. With the aim of extinguishing the spreading havoc as the planet fell into despair, the Alliance quickly gained support and ascended to sovereignty. Two brothers, young and untested, came into their power as if they had been there all along. As the years passed and the days grew long, something shifted within the ruling faction. The younger of the two brothers fell into darkness, severing the Alliance to form the traitorous Shadow Regime. In light of the separation, both factions grasped for power. The planet fell deeper into combat and far away, sitting amongst the stars like a crimson beacon, the red planet sat in wait.

  As populations all over the globe slowly rose to immeasurable magnitudes and war continued to contaminate the soil, it seemed the only way for humanity to flourish was to escape into the stars. Mars, mankind’s first hope, was a frigid counterpart to the warm Earth. It’s thin atmosphere seemed almost unable to support life and the Martian landscape appeared inhospitable. For years, the warring factions built and rebuilt space vessels capable of interplanetary travel, determined to claim the red planet. The Alliance were the first to step cautious feet onto the Martian dust and there, they erected the start of civilization. Now, the colonization of Mars grows ever more crucial as the Earth slowly suffocates under the weight of its own people and each faction will do whatever it takes to ascend to power, no matter the cost.

  Chapter One : Lunar Base One

  T he dark side of the moon seemed especially cold. John William Atlas pulled his thick coat tighter over his chest and shook himself. From his view out of the port window, Earth was a ghost of its former countenance. The land not covered by vast grey oceans was parched and arid, the only life left thriving were those who walked the land. Atlas scrubbed a hand over the window as the glass fogged, and recalled dusty photos and flickering holographs of the Earth of before. Bright green and dazzling blue. Atlas had never known the planet in that way, had never grown to love his war-torn, hardened home world.

  “Atlas?” A female voice called shrilly over the din of noise from the crowded canteen. The same waitress who had taken his order now squeezed through the throng of people at the bar, balancing his drink and food on a long tray.

  “Here,” he replied, raising his hand though she was heading in his direction anyway. His drink sloshed over the rim as she handed it to him and Atlas gave her a charming smile. She was young and clearly overwhelmed as she tried in vain to smooth down her dark hair.

  “Here’s your Lunex Whiskey and your synthetic fries,” the waitress said, settling his food on the table. “Will that be all?” She asked, looking almost eager.

  “Call me Atlas,” he replied, pitching his voice low. She nodded and let out an embarrassed giggle. He leaned back in his chair after she turned to leave, satisfied his food was taken care of. Works every time.

  “Wait,” she turned halfway as she headed back to the bar. Atlas scrubbed a hand over the scruff on his jaw and sighed as she came closer. “Any relation to William Atlas?”

  “Don’t know him.”

  “William Atlas, Head of State for the Alliance?”

  “No-” Atlas began collecting his things quickly as she grew louder and more enthusiastic, leaving his order untouched on the table.

  “John Atlas- you’re his son!”

  Interested onlookers had begun turning their heads and Atlas stood to leave, swiping his payment chip as he did. He skirted through the crowd and at his back, he could almost feel the young waitress still staring in astonishment. The sliding double doors of Lunar Base One’s grand lobby slid open soundlessly and Atlas hitched his rucksack higher over his shoulder, exiting the crowded diner. He tried to keep his head down as he moved through the enormous space. The domed ceiling soared high into the night sky, reinforced with massive windows and titanium alloy. To his far right, a long rounded desk boasted a variety of employees, all tasked with managing base affairs. To his left, shining glass doors led out onto the dark of the moon, midnight-black and forever cold. It was warmer here than in the diner. There were people scattered about, miners and pilots milling around the many kiosks and payment stands, some seeking compensation for work rendered and others simply looking for a room for the night.

  Atlas’ quarters were situated on the third floor. He didn’t talk to anyone as he made his way to the multi-elevator, skirting past a couple arguing over what sounded like their room location “I wanted a better view of Earth, Randall!” and then a mother who was feeding her child a bottle of synth-milk. He gave the child a small smile as he passed and she returned it, perhaps the only person within the base who wouldn’t care whose son he turned out to be. The elevator was blessedly empty and Atlas spoke his room number into the air. He felt the multi-elevator swoosh sideways and in what seemed only a moment, the doors slid open and the long, grey hallway loomed. Atlas had spent most of his childhood within Lunar Base One, exploring the corridors and quarters with enthusiasm that only a small child could posses
s. His fair-haired mother watched him from the front desk, busy allocating funds and tracking pilots as they left Earth’s atmosphere.

  Mining in the nearby asteroid belt had begun when Atlas was very small and from the round windows of the base, he had watched in fascination as pilots soared back and forth in their sleek, space vessels, hauling their precious metals and minerals. In those days, most interplanetary travel belonged to the Alliance, though Atlas couldn’t care less who did what, as long as the job was done.

  “Who do you work for?” Atlas spun around at his entrance to his quarters at the deep voice. A mountain of a man stood behind him, wearing dark clothing and a thick fur coat.

  “Whoa there, big fella’. Think you’ve got the wrong dashingly handsome pilot.” Atlas replied. The casual tone of his voice belied the hand he had behind his back, sliding his keycard over the lock.

  Atlas shot him a grin and without warning, the big man grabbed his collar with both hands and slammed him into the nearby wall.

  “Who do you work for?!” He punctuated each word by banging Atlas into the wall, over and over again.

  “Ow” Atlas squinted up at the thick eyebrows and scowling mouth. “Was that necessary?”

  “Who-”

  “Myself!”

  But the man raised his fist anyway and Atlas was not at all willing to get punched in the face today and struggled in his grip. Suddenly, a large hand came down on the man’s shoulder. He spun around, letting Atlas go. He scrambled away and got a good look at his would-be savior. He was not tall, but the way he stood let Atlas know that he was a soldier, an Alliance officer. He wore no emblem but he emitted an air of authority.

  “Is there a problem?” he said, looking back and forth between them. Atlas’ attacker crossed his arms.

  “Stay out of our business.”

  “Uh no-” Atlas blurted, sliding around the big man to stand on the side of the officer. “You’re good right where you are, stay in our business please.”

  The soldier raised an eyebrow and jerked his head to the left. “I think you should be on your way, the shuttle for Earth leaves in a few minutes.”

  The man stepped closer and the soldier stood his ground, pulling up the tail of his shirt to reveal a small stun gun. The man seemed to consider him for a moment and then with one last, threatening glance at Atlas, he stomped his way back down the hall where he had presumably come. Atlas let out a long, whistling breath.

  “Well, that was exciting.” He said. The soldier was pulling his shirt back over his gun.

  “You find trouble often, I assume?”

  “Something like that,” Atlas laughed.

  “Sergeant Major Axel Santana, with the First Alliance for Peace and Prosperity.” He said, thrusting out his hand. His short cropped dark hair and and deep set eyes reminded Atlas of the moments he’d spent with his father, the brief time he had been allowed inside the Secretary Head of State’s offices and the crowd of soldiers always standing ready outside the doors.

  “John Atlas,” he replied, wondering whether he should have used a fake name like he had while Earthside.

  “I know,” the sergeant said, nodding. “I was sent by your father to ensure your safety.” Atlas froze.

  “You were what?” Disbelief warred with indignation inside of him and shook his head, incredulous. “I don’t need a babysitter, or a bodyguard or whatever the hell you are.”

  The sergeant raised his eyebrows as if to say “really now?” and glanced in the direction that the big man had gone.

  “Look, Sarge.” Atlas said, sensibly. “I get it. You’re eager to impress the boss and following me around guarantees you a spot on the star player list, but listen. Favor with him only lasts so long and I’m really not worth the trouble, so,” Atlas made a shoo-ing motion his hands and finally opened his door. He turned around, hoping for an empty hallway.

  “I’ll be right outside your door,” the sergeant said as if Atlas hadn’t spoken at all. He hit the locking mechanism and as Atlas exclaimed “Wha-!” the door slid shut in his face.

  “Great, exactly what I needed.” Atlas tossed his rucksack to the side and threw himself on the bed, exhausted.

  At half past midnight, the screening tablet (tab) on his bedside table flickered to life, brightening the dim room. Atlas opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at the drab, grey ceiling in sleepy confusion. He fumbled his hand over the side table until he finally grasped the tab in his hand.

  “Lights, at fifty percent,” he croaked and cleared his throat as the soft artificial lights illuminated the room. His tab was blinking, flashing red across the screen. The message that he opened read “Pilot needed, Level One Clearance, Red Colony, respond immediately”. Atlas huffed out a breath. So much for sleeping in. He typed out an affirming message and began getting his things together. Out of the small, rounded window over his bed, the lunar landscape seemed to go on for miles and the darkness gleamed with a billion stars. There wasn’t much in his quarters; the unmade bed and a small couch, a few shirts here and a coat thrown haphazardly there. He hadn’t yet used the closet or stocked the small bathroom, and it wasn’t like he possessed any pictures or holographs worth hanging on the wall or sitting on his bedside table. He grabbed his rucksack, which on a good day contained his pilot’s license, his funds chip, a spare change of clothes, and a half empty bottle of earth-style whiskey.

  He slung the taupe, threadbare pack over his shoulder, and stuffed his feet into his boots. He left the lights at a lower percentage, confident he would return soon and could finally get some real, uninterrupted sleep. His dark hair was a mess and he most definitely needed a haircut, but that was the norm and he didn’t have time to worry over things like that.

  “Hobo space pilot is in right now,” Atlas said, looking at himself in the mirror. His reflection returned his crooked smile and wink and he headed towards the door.

  He pushed the button and the door slid open. Without paying much attention, Atlas stepped out into the hall. He abruptly let out a decidedly unmanly yelp as he collided with a broad back.

  “Are you serious right now?” Atlas exclaimed. Sergeant Santana had his arms crossed and stood in the exact position Atlas had left him before.

  “Going somewhere?” The sergeant returned gruffly.

  “I got an assignment”

  “Red Colony?”

  “Are you stalking me?” Atlas asked, only half joking. The sergeant turned and started down the hall and Atlas had no choice but to follow him.

  It was still early and most of the interior lights had yet to be activated. In the dim light, Sergeant Santana looked especially imposing, his stride long and confident. He turned the smallest amount back to Atlas as he walked.

  “The level of unrest has risen within the Shadow Regime, riots and anarchy in the streets. Something has stirred their numbers and your father would like me to watch over you until the situation is under control. Until then, every assignment you receive is sent to me as well.”

  “You expect me to believe my father cares about my protection? He’s successfully avoided being a father to me for a decade.” As they neared the entrance to the atrium, the sergeant paused and looked over his shoulder.

  “I expect nothing. Where you go, I go. That’s the end of it.”

  Atlas pushed past him then, shouldering by the early morning commuters with their cups of synth coffee and exiting through the hangar door. There were other pilots milling around, tinkering with their ships and preparing for flight. Atlas didn’t look behind him but he could feel the others staring at him and knew the sergeant was still following him.

  “Fine,” he said reluctantly as they reached his outdated, transport vessel. “If you’re not going to leave, just don’t bother me.” Sergeant Santana’s insistent hovering was too reminiscent of William Atlas when his son was just a child, learning to fly his first ship. Hopefully the sergeant wouldn’t be inclined to yell as often.

  “Agreed,” he nodded. “But I’m coming with y
ou to Mars.”

  “I know,” Atlas replied, because he’d expected as much. “You can be co-pilot,” he shrugged.

  They loaded up the gear from the hangar; ropes, mining tech, harnesses and other things that Atlas probably wouldn’t need but liked to have on hand for any of his runs.

  He signaled for the hangar door to open and the oxygen shields to be reduced and Sergeant Santana settled into the passenger seat.

  “Ready, Sarge?” Atlas didn’t wait for him to answer and took off into the cosmos. He watched the stars race by and enjoyed the feel of the vessel beneath him. Flying was all he’d ever wanted to do and he’s never more free than when he’s in the pilot’s seat. Axel grabbed at the nearest handhold, knuckles going white.

  “Not a fan of flying?” Atlas couldn’t comprehend being afraid of flight, but the sergeant shook his head vehemently.

  “Got nothing to do with flying. This ship of yours is a deathtrap.” He looked at Atlas in disbelief, “you really fly this thing everywhere?”

  “This thing is a classic. There’s nothing wrong with vintage.” Atlas said, affronted. Sure, the Landho could use some touch-ups and maybe a fresh coat of paint, but his girl was still the most reliable vessel in any hangar.

  “There are brand new vessels back on Earth, you know your father could-”

  “I don’t want or need anything from my father.” Atlas cut him off. The sergeant shrugged, seemingly unbothered. Atlas settled into the pilot’s seat and watched the view from the ship’s monitor.

  It seemed only an instant that they soared through the black, passing shining vessels zooming back and forth. Sergeant Santana was watching fervently through the window and Atlas reasoned that he had probably never been to Mars. After another moment, they neared their destination and the visage of the Red Planet came into view.