Top Tier Privateer: A Light Novel, page 1
Copyright © 2020 Dan Raxor.
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.
ASIN: TBD
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously.
Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 211
CHAPTER 322
CHAPTER 428
CHAPTER 540
CHAPTER 658
CHAPTER 774
CHAPTER 886
CHAPTER 999
CHAPTER 10111
CHAPTER 11122
CHAPTER 12132
CHAPTER 13140
CHAPTER 14153
CHAPTER 15166
CHAPTER 16180
CHAPTER 17193
Intermission - Uricc203
CHAPTER 18207
CHAPTER 19215
CHAPTER 20226
CHAPTER 21230
CHAPTER 22240
CHAPTER 23245
CHAPTER 24260
CHAPTER 25267
Intermission - Uricc280
Intermission - Admiral Patton283
Intermission - Peter Strongovic285
CHAPTER 26288
CHAPTER 27298
CHAPTER 28305
CHAPTER 29312
CHAPTER 30323
CHAPTER 31331
CHAPTER 32338
CHAPTER 33347
CHAPTER 34352
Sample of Ruby Mage1
Available on KU and Audible1
CHAPTER 1
Moon Orbital
July 17th 2247
“I cannot emphasize this enough. This moment will reverberate through time as the day the class of…” The Admiral paused, glancing down at a teleprompter to verify his designator. Afterall, we were but another class among many. “Zulu Tango three three graduated privateer school.”
His recovery soothed most, but not me. I glared at the man with distaste. I softened my scowl, realizing he was a player in this game, not the cause of it.
The podium hologram shimmered before vanishing.
Lead Instructor Demor walked to the projection spot on the podium. Her hard gaze stared down upon us with disdain. That vile woman was a bane to humanity, and I would never miss seeing her ugly face.
She bellowed, “Dismissed!”
Eighty-three recruits celebrated. I shook my head, turning to leave. Eighty-one idiots crammed together, feeling satisfied with the mediocre accomplishment.
A fake fighter flyover buzzed only a few feet above our heads. The digital renderings wowed the proud family members, and most of the graduates stopped to admire the display.
I exited the gaggle of people in a hurry and headed for a handicapped section in the back of the simulated parade fields.
Fake grass squished under my feet, and the heavy scent of recycled air filled my nostrils. The open space teemed with people that I’d rather avoid.
A group of locals snickered as I passed by. One of the men noticed my Deimos insignia on my right arm. I proudly displayed my home. Yeah, it was notorious for being a shitty orbital with high crime and full of poor people. It was still home, and I wore the patch proudly.
The gruffest of the bunch said, “No one’s gonna hire a Deimos spacer. That moon only spits out rats. Useless fucking space pirates. No one will hire a potential turncoat. Not with all the mercs turning from these slums. I can’t believe they accepted you. Clerical error, right boys?”
He burst into a laugh at his own joke, his groupies joining his joy. His spacesuit held the emblem of a trident. Poseidon Corp… I wanted to talk smack or bust his balls, but Poseidon Corp was the real deal. The blue and gold were respected around the galaxy, and a fight wouldn’t be worth the effort.
Even a Deimos rebel like me wouldn’t discredit their achievements.
Plus, it didn’t matter if he ridiculed me. Today marked my final day aboard the Moon Orbital, and I’d be but a fleeting memory to the dastardly place.
I approached a wrinkly old man sitting in a hover chair. A fuzzy blanket draped over his legs until it almost touched ground. His head slumped down in slumber in an unnatural manner.
The divots in his skin held more experience than I could hope for. His closed eyes and gentle breathing thankfully told me he napped.
The life extenders simply couldn’t keep up with his body’s decay, and it was only a matter of time before his heart stilled.
I shook his shoulder. “Gramps.”
“Ah, who… what… Oh, Bruce my boy. Did I miss it?” he asked, blinking away his confusion.
I spun his gravity defying chair, ensuring the tucked in wheels were locked away. The old wheelchair design came with wheels in case the sled malfunctioned, and his unit had a habit of having them pop out.
With a gentle push, I decided to walk and talk.
“Yea, you missed it, Gramps. No biggie,” I said in a reassuring manner.
He shook his head, in part to stay awake and to also disagree. “Look, Bruce. Your father…” he started.
I patted him on the shoulder, ending his excuses before they could begin. His son, my father, was a touchy subject.
The parade grounds transitioned into busy hallways of sterile white and lush green. The middle walkways contained uniform rows of agriculture. The side walls grew vegetation vertically, and the dim red lights birthed life.
An orbital had to utilize every inch, and the structure certainly wowed this poor spacer from the slums.
“So… what’s next?” Gramps asked in a positive tone.
Gramps lived vicariously through me. His legend carried weight, his story had made history, and his time in this universe lasted far longer than he, or even I, ever expected. And now, I was his inspiration.
Liam Castile. One of the first privateers sanctioned by the Mars & Alpha Centauri Government (MC Coalition) during the great pirate war. The MC Coalition founded more than a few expansions then facilitated a way to help protect them - the mercenaries and privateers.
“Hey, Gramps, tell me the story about the expansion days,” I said, turning us out of a busy tunnel.
“A story,” he grumbled. “But I wanna hear where yer going?”
He struggled to glance back at me.
I pushed him to a viewport, and the translucent wall flared red, keeping us from the cozy nook. A prompt kept us from entering.
“Verify that you wish to operate the viewport extension. A charge will be applied,” a smooth-talking female voice said. This was an actual operator too, not the robot kind.
Gramps raised his left wrist, and the screen pinged green.
She broadcast, “Fifteen minutes activated. Enjoy, Mr. Castile.”
“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Gramps said in agitation. “Fucking hate those things.”
“Gramps, it's a woman. The jobs here don’t include automation, but yeah, even if it were a robot, it would only be a simple voice activation, nothing more. The AI will never rise again,” I said, trying to calm him. “You know what, maybe it’s -”
“Ha, I’ll tell you about the expansion,” he said, knowing my mood was souring.
While he collected his thoughts, I stared out of the moon orbital. A dozen haulers waited in queue to dock. Shuttles zipped back and forth, allowing crews to take shore leave.
Further away from the station, the elevator connecting to the moon bristled with platforms shooting up and down. Ships ferried supplies and personnel with a purpose. The traffic’s organized chaos reminded me of a busier Deimos Orbital.
“The expansion era. Still in it, ya know,” he said with a labored finger wag.
He always needed to emphasize things, but I loved him for it.
I nodded. “Trust me, I know. And this quest for an expansion story serves a purpose,” I said, shifting him to the end of a bench so I could sit beside him.
“Yes, well. The year was 2067, and I had just left this very orbital aboard a belt miner. Kuiper Belt back then was a literal credit mine… Well, fer two years I slept in cryo. We arrived, expecting to be one of the few crews braving the journey.” He paused and let out a disgruntled sigh.
“The benders came out in 2069…” I said.
“Yup. Those damn contraptions. In a blink, humanity could move across the stars in slip space. A two-year journey turned into a two-minute jaunt. We… We wasted those two years, and I think that is what carried me into retiring from mining. Actually, it was,” Gramps scoffed.
“But there’s a silver lining with grandma,” I said positively.
He chuckled, his eyes glazing over as he blankly stared at the space traffic in front of us.
I used the moment to see my reflection glaring back at me. My neatly cropped sandy-blonde hair led down to hard, dark eyes. My slightly busted nose helped my ruggedly handsome features. A strong jawline helped my straight teeth complete the dashing adventurer look.
After a slight head shake, he said, “The benders were renamed to wormhole drives and the great expansions be
“Everyone who wanted a new home in space could get one. The wormhole drives only need to visually see a place in space. That made the options limitless with a few jumps.”
“Alpha Centauri…” I said, knowing where his story was going next.
“Yup. Grandma was the finest woman I’d ever seen. A damsel in distress, hunting for a ride away from oppressive parents and an ex-lover. We left Sol System for Alpha, staying awake for the five-day journey. Not even two days after arriving, a pilgrimage was called for the Drangi System.
“The trip was eight lightyears and took almost nine days. Those were the days. I remember arriving in the system and watching as a thousand ships swirled into existence over a massive blue planet,” he said fondly.
I had heard the tale plenty of times. The wormhole drives became easy and cheap to manufacture. Once you added in that their travel took a day per lightyear, human governments soon lost their tight control.
That was where the story grew dark - and for good reason.
Gramp’s voice grew grim. “Then, Gregor unleashed hell.”
Gregor had changed humanity a few times. At first, his raids smashed undefended ships and colonies being established by non-affiliated groups.
Then Gregor opened a private slave market, resold captured items, and created the first pirate haven. The why was clear; the opportunities were simply too ripe.
I patted Gramps’ shoulder and said, “We can skip the AI and go right to the big battle.”
He accepted my offer because the AI’s betrayal hurt him.
Right when the combined armies of humanity closed in on Gregor’s holdout, the AI – Persephone, who was in charge of finding the villain - accepted a bribe.
The human fleets arrived in a minefield of epic proportions. To make matters worse, sitting in the center of that field rested a new device - a first of its kind wormhole drive blocker built by Persephone.
Thousands of ships were lost trying to leave that field. Persephone escaped, giving up Gregor as a final goodbye a few years later.
That defeat had profound effects on governance for decades. Coalitions fractured, vassal cities rebelled, and new colonies entered an arms race. The hundreds of governments vying to control their people became thousands.
Eventually, humanity did coalesce around defeating Gregor in an epic, final battle.
Gramps was on one of those ships, and some said the Beckindale, a ship he gunned for, laid the final blow into Gregor’s flagship. History is fuzzy, though, and the credit went to an admiral, not a peon at the controls.
“Gregor hid in a starless system. We swirled out of our wormholes with guns blazing. No mercy, no prisoners,” he said.
Those words hung heavy every time he repeated them.
Gramps continued, “The Trondor blew up off our port in the opening salvo. The jamming device trapped Gregor’s fleet, a surprise farewell from Persephone and the ultimate double cross. Over the next ten days, we raced forward, and they tried to flee. He pleaded for parley and then for quarter.” He shook his head. “Reaching him required heavy losses. There… we knew it was worth the cost.”
I patted his shoulder. “Taking him down was the right move.”
“Yes, except it never stopped. Ever since that day... Gregor died a martyr, encouraging millions. Now it's a constant back and forth between the mercenaries and pirates,” Gramps said.
“Privateers and relocation asset managers.” My jest earned a chuckle. “But yeah, mercenaries and pirates.”
“Well, at least Mars and Centauri teamed up to form the corridor with the MC Navy,” Gramps grumbled.
He still carried a resentment for all the mistakes humans had made in the past.
I nodded, feeling the bench sliding back. Our time inside the viewport was ending.
Gramps had a point. A few of the old and new nations had formed coalitions to combine navies and protect their citizens. Their mandate contained borders, and their admirals weren’t heroes who saved small outposts months away. The militaries of humanity tended to their own flocks and that was it.
The rest of humanity that expanded did so at their own risk. Many couldn’t afford a ship capable of defeating a pirate - or even crew it - and the justifications for hiring a privateer or mercenary crew increased.
Those were the fantastic postings that most my class obtained. Hell, even Veronica, my only friend from four months of training, was hired to be a gunner aboard the Ferox.
Good for her.
Me… No.
And it was time to come clean about the why with Gramps.
“So, Gramps,” I said, pushing his sled into the flow of traffic. “I’m going to an outer system. With current buoy technology, I can get a message here in a few days, faster if I pay a heavy fee, but seeing you will be hard.”
“What? An outer system.” His hands flew up in protest. “That’s fallacy. You finished top of your class,” he scoffed.
I swerved around a wall crew pruning vegetables and said, “Yup, and that mattered little. Look, Gramps, I love you. Thanks for coming out. No one else would have come or mattered as much to me. I know on your fixed budget it had to be -”
“Nonsense, Gramps interrupted. “I’m still livid you assumed your father’s debts – I – I’m so sorry, Bruce. If only I had figured it out earlier.”
I walked us silently, stealing views of space outside the orbital.
My father had abused me verbally and at times physically. The scars of failures warped my reality and were something I never forgave or forgot.
Marty Castile was a warrior and an alcoholic. Only a few times, did he have a sober stretch. One of those times revolved around creating me at a surrogate facility. My mother received a hefty sum of Mars Centauri Credits for me.
I’ll never understand his reasoning for raising me by himself. I’ll never be able to kick his ass and pry the truth out of him either.
From birth to eight, my life had been average. From eight to fourteen, I’d received the most brutal military training a young man could receive.
My father’s occupation: interdiction and boarding training for the MC Navy. When I turned eight, he had brought me into work to show me the awesome training machines he used. Being the fool that I was back then, I eagerly joined the simulations and triggered something in my father.
If I could only go back in time…
From that day on, I became his prized pupil. He brought me in every chance he could as he attempted to mold me into one of his soldiers.
When I turned fourteen, he suddenly died in a training accident during a real-world exercise.
The ship he was boarding had a reactor meltdown that caused a big explosion. One day, I got yelled at for a missed zero-g push off, and the next, he was gone forever. For a while, I thought it was fake. As time went by and my father never returned, I’d figured it was a cover-up.
There was a massive downside to his sudden demise, though. The MC coalition didn’t forgive one’s debts upon death.
Either the financial burden transferred to me, and I assumed his liabilities when I turned twenty, or it went to Gramps. Gramps would have had to pay right away and then die without the credits needed to buy his life extenders.
The court had allowed me to assume the debt, and now, after years of applying to certification courses across the galaxy, the Moon Orbital had accepted my application.
I happened to be very proficient in zero-g or low gravity combat. I held a high proficiency in most weapons, knew anti-pirate doctrine, and kept my body in shape so I could handle heavy gravity.
The issue had never been my qualifications for schooling; it was always the overhead debt. The applications always ran a credit check. My father’s substantial debt meant I could turn to being a pirate or was susceptible to bribes.
The Mars Centauri Navy didn’t even give my application a second look. Their automatic reply was to reapply post debt. So… I was ostracized simply for being a young man from Mar’s Orbital attached to Deimos’ moon and drowning in debt.
“Yup, top of my class and I applied everywhere,” I said to Gramps with a heavy heart.
“And?” he asked.
I turned right, taking us to a shuttle corridor. The crowds thinned and I slowed the pace, knowing our time was coming to an end.
