Mercury's Bane: Book One of the Earth Dawning Series

by Nick Webb

  Contents

  Title

  Dedication

  Front Matter

  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 Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Epilogue

  ebook backmatter

  MERCURY’S BANE

  Book 1

  of

  The Earth Dawning Series

  For J., L., and C.

  Would you like a free copy of another bestselling space opera novel?

  Go to the link below to get your free copy!

  www.smarturl.it/freetg

  Other books by Nick Webb

  The Legacy Fleet Series:

  Constitution

  Warrior

  Victory

  Independence

  Defiance (coming soon)

  Liberty (coming mid 2017)

  In addition, there are Legacy Fleet novels written by other authors (with Mr. Webb’s permission):

  smarturl.it/legacyfleet

  The Pax Humana Saga:

  1: The Terran Gambit

  2: Chains of Destiny

  3: Into the Void

  Prologue

  September 2nd, 2061

  Near Denver, North American Continent

  Old Boulder refugee camp

  You could always tell a Jovian from a Martian, and a Martian from a Native—people who grew up outside the gravity well never seemed to be able to keep up. One’s history with gravity was always the hardest thing to hide.

  “Not much farther now.” Thomas Pike hauled himself over a tumble of rock in the middle of the path and held out a hand to the soldier scrambling up behind him, huffing and wheezing.

  To call this boy a soldier was a kindness. The kid couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen, dressed in a shapeless shirt and pants, an insignia stamped hastily onto one sleeve. And he was far too thin under the raggedy uniform. The soldier panted. He’d been struggling within minutes as they climbed into the foothills. Only momentum kept him going now.

  Momentum, and a dull, simmering anger that Thomas Pike understood all too well.

  He’d never seen someone so weak. Did Earth have a lower oxygen pressure than the stations? Higher gravity? The kid didn’t offer an explanation and Pike was afraid to ask. The thought of the habitats spinning endlessly through the solar system—through the darkness, in the darkness, breeding grounds for darkness—filled him with a fear so deep that he had no words for it. To live a whole life without wind or rain or sun....

  Pike hurried to catch up. They had to keep moving; the kid had pressed on without him, despite his breathless pant. The path’s loose rocks crunched reassuringly under Pike’s feet. This was his planet. Humanity’s home. He welcomed the rasp of the air in his lungs, scented with juniper, and the faint burn of the sun on the back of his neck. The storm in the mountains wouldn’t reach them for a while yet.

  They climbed in silence now for the sake of the young soldier, who could spare no energy to talk. Pike listened to the boy’s ragged breath and counted the steps until they finally rounded the bend.

  The kid gave a whistle. The Rockies rose to either side of them, peaks plunging into the churning clouds of the unseasonal storm. Below lay the camp: makeshift shacks and tents covered in camouflage. If someone looked very, very closely, they could see movement along the river, where Natives cultivated crops among the trees. Heh, Natives. That’s what the Jovian soldier kid had called them. To him, Thomas Pike, this was home.

  A light breeze, the first winds of the oncoming storm, rustled the trees, signaling to the workers tending the crops that it would soon be time to take shelter. Christina and Joanna were there now. Farming was a risky endeavor, but a necessary one. People gotta eat, aliens or no aliens.

  But growing crops wasn’t nearly as risky as what he and the soldier had just done. Pike had agonized over the transmissions to the Rebellion. If those transmissions were caught in one of the sweeps, the camp would be gone within minutes. But what was the alternative? Scrabble for a half-life, hidden in the shadows, afraid to show himself to the sky? Spend his days avoiding capture, all for living on his own planet?

  The familiar rage kindled deep within his chest. This planet was his birthright, and he would see it returned to his children before he died. That was the promise he had made years ago, and Joanna, a hand on her round belly, had agreed. They named the child Christina, and she had Joanna’s black hair and Thomas’s golden-brown eyes. Then came William, and Joanna began to ask if they should take so many risks. Perhaps, she said, they should seek passage to Mars. Her sister was there, and said the sunsets were beautiful. Or the Snowball Moons of Jupiter. Or even Mercury—live with the Rollers. At least they had decent gravity, and mining was good, honest work. And there were rumors that the mines served the Rebellion, too. If they only—

  In the end, he persuaded her to stay every time she asked. But she worried constantly. He hadn’t told her about the message to the Rebellion. How could he? He pushed the guilt away and pointed into the distance.

  “You can’t see it today, but there’s a base over there.” He twisted to point toward a peak behind him. “Come down through the peak with the notch and it’s due west.”

  The soldier nodded. He was scribbling notes on an ancient tablet computer he’d brought with him, and he took a picture of the peak for reference, for all the good it did. He looked back expectantly.

  “If you follow along the mountains, you’ll find more of their floating things. They’re all up and down the range.”

  “We saw some coming in. They almost looked like the aid ships.”

  “Aid ships?”

  The kid paused, clearly trying to figure out where to start. “Well … they’re not suppose
d to help us, right? We’re supposed to be self-sufficient. But the stations really aren’t self-sufficient at all, and some of the Telestines know that. There’s one, his name’s Tel’rabim, he sends aid all the time. He argues for us in their parliament, too, and—”

  “I don’t care.”

  The boy broke off, eyes wide.

  “This alien, Tel’rabim, you say? He’s not arguing for them to give Earth back, is he?”

  Slowly, the boy shook his head.

  “Then it doesn’t matter what else he does. He can burn with the rest.”

  The boy nodded, looked back to his computer. “Right. Uh … the big floating ships. Are they all labs?” The thin hand was poised over the keyboard and his eyes flicked up to meet his.

  Pike only shrugged. He hadn’t gotten close enough to tell. Half floating island, half airship, the estates were massive. Some were a swarm of activity, others simply floated up and down the mountain range, taking in the view. When one hovered above the camp, all activity ceased for those few days. They froze—fearful mice hiding from the hawk in the sky.

  But the Telestines would not always be the predators. That would change.

  “What kind is that one?” The boy jerked his head.

  “What? There isn’t.…” Pike looked, and did a double take. There, as the storm billowed over the peaks, he made it out at last: the heavy bow of an airship. His throat seemed to close. “We have to get back to the camp.”

  “What? Why?”

  “That wasn’t there this morning.” Pike pushed his way back through the scrub brush, toward the path. His mind was racing with calculations. Would he be seen on the path? Speed and the chance of being caught, or a slow, careful descent and the chance of the airship seeing the crop workers instead? His breath was coming short with fear. “Where did it come from?”

  “I told you, we saw it when we were coming in.” The boy was running after him now. “Slow down, I can’t keep up.”

  “No time—why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Your message said they were here often!” The boy was shaking his head.

  “On the range, going up and down the range. Not here in the foothills!”

  Christina was at the crop fields. Fourteen years old, in a growth spurt, and always hungry. She would be doing her lessons as she tended the crops. Joanna had been adamant that the children continue learning, even if they had to work to keep the camp running. But Christina was wild, and always had been: she would be taking any chance to slip out of the shelter of the trees and into the sunshine.

  He’d chided her for that, but not enough. He understood the yearning too well to yell at her when he should have. And now....

  Pike’s fists clenched. He tossed a glance over his shoulder and stumbled.

  No. No, no.… The airship had come alive with activity. Fighter ships were emerging from its top decks, rounded and sleek. They swirled like a flock of starlings, and then—

  “No!” He scrambled up, palms bleeding, and ran. The camp, the fields.

  This couldn’t be happening. They had never been seen before.

  He had never sent a radio transmission before.

  “Mr. Pike! Sir!” The kid, however frail, had youth on his side. He caught up, reached out to grab Pike’s arm. “We can take some.”

  “What?”

  “We can take some of the camp.” The kid was pale, his blue eyes terrified. “Whoever’s there, we get them onto the shuttle and we go.”

  “We have to get to the fields.”

  “There isn’t time.” The kid grabbed his arm and dragged him to a stop.

  “Let go of me, or I swear to god I will kill you where you stand.”

  “There isn’t time,” the kid repeated. His grip was feverishly strong. “We have to get the people from the camp and get out.”

  “My wife is at the fields—my daughter.”

  “And your son is at the camp, right?” The kid met his eyes. “We can get them out. But not if we go for the fields.”

  William. William could get out, and then Pike would go to warn the others. There was enough time to slip into the woods and make for the field, and the other settlement beyond that. “Let’s go.”

  They pounded down the hill in a rising wind. It might have been his imagination, but the bigger ships always seemed to bring storms with them.

  Like the one over the mountains today. How had he not guessed what was coming? Pike swung around one of the trees, felt the skin come off his palm, and didn’t care. William. He had to get to William.

  A hollow boom echoed through him and he felt the fire tear through the trees miles away. The fact that he could feel the heat from that far away could only mean one thing.

  His knees buckled with grief and the kid hauled him up.

  “Come on!”

  “Fire.” His voice wasn’t his own any longer. “Fire.” He couldn’t find any other words.

  “That’s the fields, they haven’t hit the camp yet. Run!”

  Screams were beginning ahead of them. Pike ran, the impact jolting up through his legs. He couldn’t feel his feet on the ground any longer. The screams were around him, piercing him, rising through the trees in a chorus.

  They burst into the camp in a dead sprint, the kid waving his arms for the shuttle. It was hovering as the Rebellion soldiers shoved children into the hold desperately. One of them was trying to grab little William, hands up as the boy pointed a rifle directly at the soldier.

  “You have to come with us.” The soldier was pleading, her hands out to him. Her uniform showed bony wrists; her eyes kept going to the Telestine airship overhead, menacing and low.

  “My sister is at the fields!” William, gangly, had every ounce of his mother’s fierceness now. He backed away amidst the tents, eleven-year-old body shaking. “My mom is there. Don’t try to stop me, I … I have to go to them. They need our help.”

  “William!” Thomas Pike’s breath was coming in a gasp. He swayed as he made his way toward his son.

  “Dad.” William’s face crumpled in relief. “They’re saying we have to leave the others and—”

  “Shhh. It’s okay.” Only it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.

  He looked toward the fields, and smelled the smoke on the breeze, rancid with both scorched earth and flesh.

  They were gone.

  Pike swallowed, looked back to his son, and lied. He poured everything left into this one lie, eyes fixed on his son’s. “There’s another shuttle at the fields.” He didn’t look at the soldier, whose shock would give him away. He stared into his son’s eyes and prayed to every god he knew to make the boy believe him. Another explosion rocked the ground and he held out his hand. “You have to come now, William. They already went. Your mother and Christina will meet us on the spaceship.”

  William wavered. He looked to the fields, and back to his father. “They’re safe?”

  “They’re safe. Please, William. They’ll want to make sure you got away too. Come on.”

  William’s shoulders slumped, the rifle dropped, and Pike thought he would collapse from relief. His legs shook as the soldier grabbed him to propel him into the hold of the ship.

  “No…. ” His voice was weak. He couldn’t live with what was coming. “I’ll go—”

  They didn’t even listen. They shoved him toward the seat where William was strapping himself in and Pike knelt on the floor and buried his face in his hands.

  The shuttle knocked everyone inside to the deck as it took off.

  “Everyone hold on.” The pilot’s voice was desperate. “They’re still focusing on the fields, we should be able to get out of here.”

  “What about the shuttle at the fields?” William twisted in his seat. His hands closed on his father’s shoulders. “Dad—Dad—they said the Telestines are focusing on the fields, did the shuttle get away?”

  He could hardly breathe for the ache in his throat. Pike picked his face up. “I’m sure they did.”

  But this time, t
he lie was not so successful. William’s face went blank with betrayal, thin body rigid.

  “You said there was a shuttle.” His voice was rising. He tore at the straps holding him in place. “You said there was a shuttle!” He was on his father the next moment, bony fists flying. “You said there was a shuttle! You said! You said!”

  Pain exploded across Pike’s eye and he fought by instinct alone. The shuttle was swerving and the two of them rolled, William all bony elbows and pure fury, and Pike hit the floor. The pain burst through him as his hands moved to block William’s strikes. But the pain wasn’t from any blow. It was in his gut, in his heart. Every shriek from his son pierced his soul.

  “You said!” William’s voice was hysterical, his fists raining down on Pike’s face. “You—”

  A soldier wrapped his arms around William and pulled him off. The shuttle was shaking—a patch of turbulence launched everyone several feet into the air.

  The side of William’s head rammed straight into a corner of a storage bin above them. He fell to the floor, knocked out cold. One of the soldiers knelt next to him, scanning him with some sort of medical device. “He’ll be fine. We’ll have to watch for concussion….”

  “Are you all right?” The woman’s face was scared. Her hand clasped his. “Your eye is—”

  Pike pushed her away and pulled himself up on the straps of the seat. He swayed as he made his way to the window. His fingers splayed there; the glass was cold on his forehead.

  One could hardly see the camp any longer. It melted into the slopes of the foothills. Even the Telestines hadn’t noticed it yet. You couldn’t miss the fields, though, not as the fire consumed them. The trail of smoke was drifting in the wind, and beyond.…

  Pike felt his breath catch. The fighters seemed to be dive-bombing at the camp, plummeting down and pulling up only at the last minute. He strained to see what they were doing.

  They were chasing people. His fingers clenched. The figures were tiny, and they were running desperately.

  And the Telestines were taunting them. They zoomed low overhead as the humans fled. They were toying with their prey before they killed.