Phantom Planet (Galaxy Mavericks Book 2)

by Michael La Ronn

  The Arguses.

  They drove with their black hoods over their faces and their red eyes glowing. They squealed and waved their handcoils in the air.

  Grayson stood in front of Keltie to protect her.

  But Keltie frowned. She reached for the woman’s shoulder.

  In an instant, the woman turned around reached into her pocket, pulled out a handcoil, and fired three shots.

  The wheels of the motorcycles caught fire, and the pigs skidded down the dock before falling over. The motorcycles plunged into the sea.

  The woman, dark-skinned and of Indian descent, strode forward and pointed her handcoil at the Arguses. She had bright brown eyes.

  “Bok bok bok!” the pigs shouted.

  “Leave,” the woman said. “Pa-bok-bok grok mai. Ong-pa bok!”

  The Arguses stood and aimed their coils at her.

  “I see you aren’t going to listen, then,” the woman said.

  A small silver beacon glowed on the woman’s coat sash, and she pressed it.

  The surface of the water rippled like a circular wind was blowing on it. A black, ominous shape appeared underneath the surface, rising upward.

  With a great splash, a gray war ship rose from the water. It was twice the size of a corsair, and it looked haggard, like it had seen many battles. There was no one on the bridge.

  The Arguses squealed in anger at the ship.

  The ship made several popping and locking sounds, and guns of all sizes sprouted from the bottom, aimed at the pigs.

  “Bok bok bok!” the pigs screamed.

  “Fine,” the woman said.

  The ship opened fire on them, tearing into the pigs with a massive spray of bullets and knocking them into the water. The pigs splashed in the water, but then the strong waves pulled them away. They grunted and honked before their heads went under. Bubbles danced across the water’s surface, then stopped.

  The ship deactivated its guns and hovered over the edge of the dock. The airlock opened and the bay door descended, hitting the edge of the pier.

  The woman about-faced and walked toward the war ship at a brisk pace.

  “Are you going to tell me who you are?” Keltie asked.

  “Keltie,” the woman said. “My name is Devika Sharma. I know it might seem odd to leave with a stranger, but if you want to live, you have no choice.”

  “What is going on?” Keltie asked. “Can you at least give me an executive summary?”

  “Our galaxy is in danger of being devoured by the Planet Eaters.”

  “Planet Eaters?” Keltie asked.

  The black aliens.

  That was a fitting name for them.

  “I think I know how to stop them,” Devika said. “But unfortunately, the aliens aren’t the problem.”

  “So we can eradicate them?” Keltie asked. “How?”

  Devika strode onto the bay door. “Do you believe in fate?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, the safety of the galaxy rests in the hands of a few,” Devika said. She closed her umbrella and tapped her shoulder with it. “And I believe that fate has selected us, Keltie. I don’t know why, and I don’t even know if we deserve it, but it is up to us.”

  “Shouldn’t we leave this to the military?” Grayson asked.

  “No offense, but no,” Devika said. “Humanity has fought off vicious alien races for years, but it won’t be aliens that will be our undoing this time. It will be ourselves. The old ways of arms and might won’t save us. This requires a… maverick solution.”

  “This is crazy,” Grayson said to Keltie.

  Devika turned and disappeared into her ship. “Are you coming or not, Keltie?”

  Grayson grabbed her hand. “You can’t do this.”

  Keltie brushed him away. “I can’t stay here.”

  They stared at each other in the rain as thunder shook the skies.

  “One question,” Keltie said. “What did you mean by me not being an alien on my own planet?”

  Devika smiled coyly. “How was your visit to Macalestern?”

  Keltie shook her head.

  “That’s what I thought,” Devika said. “You probably work with some nice people, but they’re not looking out for you.” Devika pointed to the blood-stained water. “Unless you call sending Arguses looking after you.”

  “Wait. Macalestern sent them?” Keltie asked.

  Devika turned and walked into the ship. “We don’t have much time, Keltie.”

  Keltie looked at Grayson. “I don’t know why, but something tells me that I have to go.”

  “Guess this is another bad date ending, huh?” Grayson asked, pursing his lips.

  Keltie smiled, and ran her hand along his face. Then she turned and walked onto the ship. “It doesn’t have to be.”

  The ship lifted into the air and Keltie started to wave.

  But Grayson ran to the edge of the pier and jumped onto the ship just as the bay door closed.

  Keltie’s eyes widened.

  “I’m not going to miss my chance again,” he said, walking toward her, his eyes determined.

  But Keltie grinned and backed away just before he reached her.

  “Are you crazy?” she asked. “Trying to kiss me after we just met?”

  In the dark airlock, Grayson’s eyes widened in confusion. “But—”

  “Good dating tip number one,” Keltie said, taking his hand, “I shouldn’t see it coming.”

  Grayson laughed, running his hand over his head. “Lesson learned.”

  A voice called them. “This is cute, but we don’t have time for romance.”

  Devika was waiting in the shadows. She had a holographic star map in her hand. “We’ve got some stops to make, and you two have much to learn.”

  Together, Keltie and Grayson followed her deep into the ship.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  Author's Note

  I’m going to make a confession.

  Kind of scary for me.

  You’ve just finished Book 2 in the series right now, but I’m actually writing this one first.

  That means I haven’t written Book 1 yet, and the final book in the series is pretty far away.

  But wow, this was a fun book to write.

  Some Background

  I have an awesome fan base of readers (if you’re not in the club, join here).

  Every year or so, when I finish a series, I let my readers vote on what they want me to write next.

  The first time I did it, I had a list of like, ten people. I gave them a choice between an urban fantasy about an angel or a science fiction story about androids.

  Nine out of ten voted for the android series.

  It became my best performing title up until that point, making me enough money to cover my author expenses for the first time. More importantly, it introduced a ton of new readers to my work (and it still does—literally every day).

  In other words, pretty successful, right?

  I Wanted to Write a Post-Apocalyptic Series Instead

  In December 2016, I let my readers vote again (there were a lot more than ten people this time around).

  I took two ideas floating around in my head and I gave readers two choices:

  Space Opera Series - an intergalactic real estate agent accidentally uncovers a diabolical threat to the galaxy.

  Post-Apocalyptic Series – After a devastating disaster, a multi-generational family must struggle across a rugged, post-apocalyptic wasteland to survive.

  In terms of “developed” ideas, I was totally ready to jump into the post-apoc story. I knew the characters, and I knew this was going to be a different kind of post-apoc, one that centered on a family’s story.

  I kind of had some ideas about where I wanted the space opera to go, but I didn’t think readers would pick it because in all honesty, the premise sounded a little silly.

  But my readers proved me wrong, and at midnight on December 6th, I was stunned when I checked the results.

 
Here’s the thing about me: I write unusual stories and masquerade them into the mainstream. If I’m not toeing the line between disaster and awesomeness, I’m not doing my life’s work. And my readers know that. So they voted for the series that would give them more of what they love about my work: unexpectedness. At least I think that’s what they wanted…

  But anyway, I am indebted to each every one of my readers. Even the ones who haven’t read my books yet.

  And guess what? I did my research, brainstormed, and on December 8th, I started blazing through the Phantom Planet. I don’t skip a beat.

  What If?

  I always start my stories with what if questions.

  What if someone wrote a space opera that wasn’t just a shade of military science fiction?

  I love Ender’s Game, Old Man’s War, and all the other classic military sci-fi. But while I like reading military stories from time to time, writing about the military just isn’t where my strengths lie. As a reader, I like stories about ordinary people, and I think we need more of that in space opera right now.

  What if I wrote a space opera where the heroes were everyday people?

  What if this was a working people’s space opera? Or… dare I say it, a proletariat space opera?

  Who would the heroes be, and why?

  What if I told the story in a non-traditional way?

  With Galaxy Mavericks, I wanted to create a cast of instantly likable characters who all came together to save the galaxy. And I wanted the story to be hopeless optimistic, just like me.

  My series before this, The Last Dragon Lord, was dark and brooding. I love that series in every way, but I wanted to reverse the mood and do something different.

  That’s another thing about me: I’m always doing something different with every new book and every new series. And I have written a LOT of books so far (somewhere near thirty at the time of this writing).

  And so that’s how the Galaxy Mavericks series was born.

  Why a Real Estate Agent???

  Why not?

  A planet vacation is kind of cool.

  But owning your own planet, and buying it like you’d buy, say a house or a strip mall—that’s really interesting.

  I kept thinking, what would that be like? It’d probably be waaaay more cutthroat than real estate is today. You’d have planets that are prime properties (i.e. the Earth-like planets) and planets that are not so prime (i.e. a gas giant or a planet just a little too close to its sun), but maybe technology has advanced to the point where we can make just about any planet livable, subject to the rules of physics, of course.

  The Rules of the World

  I like my science fiction like I like my vitamins: soft and chewy.

  In other words, I am not a hard science fiction guy. It’s sometimes fun to read, but here’s my philosophy on writing: it should be as fun to read as it is to write. My passions just don’t include researching painstaking scientific details.

  But wherever possible, I did try to at least make this world plausible.

  Yes, there is FTL travel. But all you need to know is that it exists and can be used.

  I kept myself to three hard and fast rules throughout the creation of this book (and series):

  1.Humans are subject to the same physiological and biological constraints in space that they are in real life—without being ridiculous about it. I guarantee that a physicist would take issue with most of my science, but let’s be real—this is fiction, baby.

  2.Everything in space has a finite supply. This includes fuel and weapons.

  3.Communication between humans and alien races will not be easy, but not impossible, either. Hence the scene with the Crystalith. I find it a bit ridiculous that all aliens would be able to speak English, but I also find it ridiculous that they would not be able to communicate with us at all.

  4.No artificial engineering, cryogenics, nanotechnology, or telepathic communication, period. These are too convenient. Limited artificial intelligence is permitted to help explain certain scientific issues, but it will not be a major part of the plot.

  Hopefully I did a good job holding myself to those rules!

  Honestly, this made the series much easier for me to write, because it’s easy to just start inventing things.

  Yes, there are going to be some exotic aliens, and there are going to be some silly aliens. But that’s what space opera is all about!

  It Began With a Video Game

  When I was in middle school, a video game for the PlayStation 1 came out called SaGa Frontier.

  At the time, I was a huge Square Enix fan and bought all of their games.

  SaGa Frontier was the story of seven characters living in the same world, whose paths (sometimes) intersected in various ways. One guy was a superhero just learning to cope with his powers. Another was a warlock. Another was a mech. Another was an escaped convict trying to avenge her dead fiancé.

  While the game left a LOT to be desired, I loved the idea of a narrative like this where you could start anywhere and end anywhere, but still get a satisfying story.

  What SaGa Frontier DIDN’T have, though, was a unifying narrative. You never saw all of the characters on the same screen. They never worked together to fight for the greater good, either.

  So when I decided to write Galaxy Mavericks, I wanted to do something like SaGa Frontier, but with a unifying narrative that brings all the characters together.

  All of the Galaxy Mavericks’ stories converge, and they ultimately end up fighting together.

  Should be cool, right? Hope so!

  Music Reference

  Every major character in the Galaxy Mavericks series is named in an homage to my favorite musicians. Keltie’s last name, Sheffield, comes from a song called “Sheffield Shaffle” from a video game soundtrack called Border Down, written by Yasuhisa Watanabe (aka “Yack”). This guy is super cool. He’s a member of the band Zuntata, who has done a lot of space-esque video games as well as some really interesting solo stuff.

  I believe Border Down game is a light rail shooter. The soundtrack is out of this world, with incredible chords too. Some of my other favorite tracks are “Girl of Power,” “One Minute of Love”, “Bye Bye Mars” and “Why do you come back?” Great vibes. Yack has a unique sound that I haven’t heard before.

  Bonus points to ANYONE who has even heard of Yack!

  Who is the next Galaxy Maverick?

  Let me introduce you to Devika Sharma, a GALPOL agent who’s on a mission to stop a dangerous human trafficker. Turn the page to read a preview from Book 3, Zero Magnitude. It’s available for sale now, and it’s even more action-packed than Books 1-2. Enjoy!

  Preview of Zero Magnitude, Book 3

  CHAPTER 1

  “Run faster, Devi!”

  The trees blurred by as Devika Sharma ran barefoot through the dark forests of Coppice. Thunder shook the ground and the rain fell in great drenching slants.

  She wore plastic beads around her wrists, and they shook in frenzied rhythm with her steps.

  She didn’t know how much faster she could run. She hated the never-ending trees, the shadows, the wetness.

  She could hardly see.

  “Come on!” a little boy’s voice shouted.

  And then she spotted a dark hand reaching out for her.

  Rajinder—a little boy her age. Nine or ten. His black hair was matted in a wet clump over his face, and his red cricket jersey was soaked.

  He grabbed her hand forcefully.

  “We have to keep going!” he cried.

  Devika found renewed strength and followed him. His hand was wet and slippery.

  They slid down a muddy path. The mud went up to Devi’s ankles. Her feet burned from running across soil and rock.

  Then the ground sloped upward again. They climbed a small foothill as if it were a mountain. Twice Devika slid backward, but Rajinder grabbed her and pulled her up. They used the trees as support, clawing through the mud until they reached the top of the hill
.

  Through the broken trees, they spotted a soup of orange lights blinking in the darkness like bokeh from an unfocused camera.

  “We’re almost there,” Rajinder said.

  “Do you think he’s still following us?” Devika asked, panting.

  She looked back. The forest was as dark as the night. The brownish white trees were dull in the rain, like rows of evil teeth.

  “Too hard to tell,” Rajinder said, hands on his knees. “You going to be okay?”

  She leaned on his shoulder to catch her breath. “If it’s just a little while longer, I’ll—”

  A squeal stopped her.

  She whimpered as Rajinder grabbed her.

  The ground shook, this time from another kind of thunder. Not too far off, several paper-thin trees snapped like twigs.

  And then snorting.

  Sniffing.

  And more squealing. Guttural, gut-wrenching squealing.

  Devi fell face-first into the mud. She pulled herself up but slid forward, her back hitting a tree.

  The beads on her wrist got stuck on a branch. She tried to untangle them, but the smooth surface of the beads were covered in mud.

  Rajinder helped her up.

  “Let the beads go,” he said.

  She clutched them close to her chest. She couldn’t let them go. Not the last traces she had of her mother and father. Without them, she’d have nothing to remember them by.

  “No!” she cried. “It’s the only thing I have from my parents!”

  “You’ve got your memories,” Rajinder said. “It’s more than I have of my parents.”

  “Please, don’t take them!”

  “Devi, they’re making too much noise!” Rajinder said. He ripped the beads off her wrist, and she screamed as they landed in the mud.

  She dove for them, but before she could grab them, a black boot stomped the ground, covering them.