Dead Planet, page 1
part #4 of Star Rim Empire Series
DEAD PLANET
BOOK 4 OF THE STAR RIM EMPIRE ADVENTURES
R.A. NARGI
CONTENTS
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
The Adventure Continues
Dear Reader
Author's Note
The OmniWorld Adventures
1
"That which is dreamed can never be lost, can never be undreamed."
NEIL GAIMAN
It was a big universe out there. But I might not ever see it again.
What I could see were the reinforced plate and barred walls of the three-meter by two-meter detention cell in which I had been imprisoned. Beyond these stark walls was Camp Langdon, a marine base on a moon orbiting Opha.
I had been locked up for at least thirty-six hours, under what was called 'protective military custody' which basically meant that I had no access to legal representation.
Not that having a lawyer would do me much good. From what I could gather (which wasn't much) I was being investigated for being a Mayir spy.
The ironic thing was that I came to Camp Langdon as a hero.
Along with Kira Lark, Leocald Grannt, and TenSix, I had infiltrated a Mayir facility on Safadin and freed Kira's parents, scientists who had been involved in sensitive research for the Empire. Then an Imperial strike force liberated the rest of the imprisoned scientists---as well as hundreds of political prisoners who had been scheduled to die in Mayir gas chambers. It was horrific, and I almost didn't make it out alive.
But I did.
By all rights, I should have been with the rest of my group---Kira, her parents, Grannt, and TenSix---on a shuttle to Jaalbar right now. Not locked up in a military prison.
But the intelligence officers who first interviewed me must have run an ID check at some point. They would have discovered that Jannigan Beck had disappeared seven years ago.
Oops.
I was ready for that eventuality, of course. I had concocted a pretty detailed story about living off the grid on Safadin for the past seven years. Finding myself. Detoxing. Maybe even communing with nature. I felt sure I could sell the story, but I hadn't been able to tell my tale. The intelligence officers hadn't asked me any questions. Which was weird.
With nothing else to do, I launched into another set of 100 push-ups, focusing on my form. At least I wouldn't be flabby by the time someone from Beck Salvage finally got me out of here.
I was confident that it was just a matter of time. Either Kira had contacted Beck Salvage on my behalf or the intelligence guys made an inquiry to HQ to verify my identity. Either way, once Uncle Wallace found out where I was, he'd mobilize the company's legal team and start calling in favors with his friends in high places.
Yeah, just a matter of time.
At least that's what I thought.
Until the explosions began.
At first, the sounds were muffled booms way off in the distance somewhere. I didn't think much about them. After all, I was on a Marine base. The sounds of artillery firing would be par for the course.
But then the explosions got louder and closer. And now they were accompanied by the clatter of small arms fire and the whine of blasters. And shouting. And screaming. A klaxon joined in the cacophony of sounds.
"What's going on?" someone shouted.
The voice came from the cell beside mine---which I didn't even know was occupied. It was a male voice. Not old. Not young. But calm. Because of the solid wall separating us, I couldn't see whoever had asked the question.
"No idea," I said. "Have you been here the whole time?"
"Yeah."
"You're pretty quiet."
"I like to keep to myself."
The next explosion was close enough to rock the detention wing. The floor of my cell seemed to jump.
"That's not good," the guy in the next cell said.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we're under attack."
Right on cue, another low boom shook my cell. And the lights flickered.
Who the hell would dare attack a Marine base? Even the Mayir wouldn't be so dumb. True, the Jaalbar system was at the edge of the Gold Mantle cluster, but it was just a few hours from Savaust Base and four other major systems. This wasn't some remote military outpost. I didn't get it.
"I hope you're good at holding your breath," the guy in the next cell said.
"What do you mean?"
"HVAC is dead. That last explosion probably took out the enviro block for this wing."
A knot of panic formed in my gut. We wouldn't last long without a working environmental system. "Where the hell are the guards?"
"If I had to guess, I'd say it's all hands on deck to repel whoever's attacking us."
I pressed myself against the horizontal-barred slot of my cell door and tried to peer down the corridor, but all I could see was part of an empty hallway. Then I rattled the door, hoping that one of the explosions had caused a power surge or something that might have tripped the lock. No such luck.
My fellow prisoner seemed to guess what I was thinking. "Doors won't open on their own," he said. "Even if the power goes out."
"You seem to know a lot about this detention block."
He laughed. "Yeah, well, it's not my first visit. Let's just say that."
"What are you, a deserter?"
"Deserter? No, I never served."
"What then?"
"I'm a businessperson."
"Who does his business from the wrong side of a cell door?"
"A guy who got caught. Once too often, it turns out."
Then it dawned on me. "You're a smuggler!"
"I prefer the term 'supply and demand logistics executive,' but you get the idea."
Another explosion rocked the cell, and this time the lights flickered and died, plunging everything into darkness. Despite what the smuggler had said about the cell doors, I lurched forward and slammed up against where I thought the door was.
No luck. The lock was still engaged.
Damn it.
A few seconds later, the aux power kicked on and a few dim emergency lights winked to life. Still no air from the registers. And now I could smell acrid smoke.
"I hear someone," the smuggler said. "Lots of someones, probably."
I said nothing, but my mind was racing. There had to be a way out of here.
"Stay down, find the shadows, and stay quiet," the smuggler said. "Most of these cells are empty. With any luck, the bad guys will just pass through here."
Whatever luck we had wasn't enough.
Less than fifteen seconds later, the invaders burst into our hallway. But, from the guttural language they were speaking, I soon realized that they were not men.
They were Maovan centurions.
Not good.
Unbidden, implanted information about the Maovans flooded my consciousness.
Maova was a long-inhabited system in the Zaunar Cluster that was frequently at war with its neighbors. Two populated planets---Marijing and Gojania---had sustained the Maovan civilization for 5,000 years. I use the term 'civilization' loosely, of course. The pinnacle of the Maovans' cultural achievements were new and interesting ways to torture and kill their captured enemies. Like tossing said enemies into a rakau moat where thousands of millimeter-long carnivorous irava fish would slowly, but methodically, strip all the flesh and tissue from the hapless enemy's body---while they were still alive, of course.
Not that Maovans needed tiny fish to fight their battles for them. They were fearsome fighters in their own right. An average Maovan male centurion stood over two meters tall and was packed with close to two hundred kilograms of muscle. And the females were even larger. They favored close-range weapons like judder knives, shally sticks, stun whips, pugions, and the double-bladed scaljareen. Probably because of their single eye. Without augmentation, they had poor depth perception. Unfortunately for me, the Maovans didn't need to see very far in order to kill me.
The centurions continued to bark to one another in their own language. The spray of railguns punctuated their shouts, echoing throughout the hallway and cells. It was nearly impossible to tell how many were coming through the cell block. All I could tell was that they were shooting first and asking questions later.
Soon I could see the beams of tactical lights cutting through the darkness. They'd be here at any moment, and I was a sitting duck.
2
Raw panic surged up from the pit of my stomach as the centurions drew closer and closer.
I had to do something.
On a conscious, rational level, I knew full well that there was nothing I could do.
I had no weapons. No exosuit.
The cell itself was small and bare. A bunk and a sink/toilet unit. Both sturdily attached to the wall. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. Except die.
But I didn't want to die.
I couldn't die.
I had too much to do. And I couldn't leave her. No way.
I pictured Kira Lark's face. Her laughing green eyes and crooked grin. I had only known her for about a week, but I couldn't stop thinking about her.
I had to survive.
For Kira.
Time seemed to slow as a spark of a thought formed in the back of my mind. It was a weird thought. And it made little sense. But even though I couldn't explain it, I knew---with every fiber of my being---it was real.
I had a power.
A gift.
Everything moved in super slow motion---maybe one second took ten. I saw the Maovans' gun-mounted tactical lights arc through the dim hallway like the beams of a searchlight, swinging towards the slot on my cell door.
In my mind, I saw lines of sight and angles---moving, adjusting for the height of a Maovan centurion. Imagining I was looking through the slot, from the other side, I computed a blind spot at the base of the door. Not much more than a half meter deep. Too small for me to tuck myself into. Probably intentional. Whoever manufactured this door must have done the same calculations. Knew how high to place the slot in order to minimize the blind spot.
Nowhere to hide.
Nowhere to---
You don't have to hide, Jannigan Beck.
The whispery voice was familiar. And it seemed to come from everywhere. But I knew it was a voice only I could hear.
Use your mind. Push!
Twice before, the voice in my head urged me to do something that was completely alien to me.
Push!
But each time it got easier. More natural.
Now!
And each time it had saved my life.
A low, slow growl sounded outside my cell as a giant Maovan eye, bloodshot and wild with surprise, completely filled the slot on my cell door.
But before it could blink, I let the voice in my head guide me.
And I pushed---with my mind.
Time sped back up to normal---then to double speed.
I don't know how I did it. I only know that I did it.
Push!
With a groan of metal and the popping of rivets, the cell door exploded outwards, smashing into the centurions on the other side. The force must have been incredible, because two of them were nearly decapitated by the door and the third stumbled back in disbelief.
He recovered quickly, though. Much too quickly for my taste.
The centurion growled and lifted his weapon---some sort of Maovan knockoff of a Perrault 500 scatterblaster from the look of it.
I staggered back into my cell.
Trapped.
No---
I concentrated and focused my mind again.
Push!
This time, nothing happened.
I tried again.
Push!
Nothing.
What the---?
The centurion must have figured out that I was screwed, and I knew it. His face contorted in what I could only imagine was a Maovan grin.
But then a sharp crack sounded, and his head jerked forward in a blossom of blood and viscera. Behind him stood Leocald Grannt, holding a KHG-S92 assault rifle.
"What the hell happened here?" Grannt stared at the two centurions taken out by the cell door. "I came to spring you, but obviously you don't need my help."
I shrugged. "Whatever they were using to break down my cell door must have backfired."
"You can tell me all about it later." He handed me the S92 and grabbed the centurion's weapon for himself. "We need to get out of here."
"Hey! What about me?"
I turned and finally got a glimpse of the guy in the cell next to me. He appeared to be in his forties with a dark complexion and light eyes.
Grannt looked him over quickly, then turned away without saying anything.
I looked back at the smuggler.
"That was amazing, by the way," he said.
"We should get him out," I told Grannt.
"No time. Come on." He kept walking.
"You can't just leave me here! That's not very sporting."
"Sorry, fella," Grannt said. "Nothing personal, but I don't know you. You don't know me. I'm not going to risk it."
I hesitated for half a second, but I knew what I had to do. "Stand back."
The smuggler retreated to the back of his cell and I blasted the lock open with my new S92. "Clear."
The guy emerged from the cell and I got a better look at him. He was tall and slim and carried himself with confidence.
"Thank you, sir." He stuck his hand out. "Drace Lorro. At your service."
"Jannigan Beck."
"Beck? As in---?"
I cut him off and nodded towards Grannt. "The cranky one is named Grannt."
"Better cranky than dead," Grannt said. "Now move it!"
"I need a weapon," Lorro said.
"Not going to happen," Grannt said. "Go!"
As we made our way through the dark sub-passages and corridors of the detention block, I asked Grannt what was going on. I was still having a tough time wrapping my head around the idea of a bunch of Maovan centurions invading an Imperial Marine base.
"Nothing good," Grannt muttered. "But we can debrief later. The entire area is swarming with hostiles. We need to get out of here."
"Out of where?" I asked. "The detention block?"
"We need to get off this moon." He wouldn't say anything more.
Around the next corner, we ran into a Maovan fire team. They were surprised, but Grannt wasn't.
He dropped to one knee to make himself less of a target and started blasting.
I pushed Lorro down behind a ventilation pump and brought the S92 up, thumbing it into automatic mode.
Less than fifteen seconds later, we had taken out three out of the four centurions. That was the good news.
The bad news was that the fourth Maovan had a frag popper.
"Down!" Grannt yelled to warn us.
But it was too late. The surviving centurion had lobbed the popper at us. It bounced and rolled and then erupted in a blast of shrapnel that was so loud I felt the boom in my jawbone.
I was stunned for what felt like an hour, but probably was less than a minute. And I was alive.
Fortunately, the big ventilation pump had shielded me and Lorro. As I peered through the smoke and darkness, I spotted Grannt. He was sprawled out, unmoving in a splatter of blood.
I didn't think, just reacted. I sprung out from behind my shield and dashed towards Grannt.
The big guy was alive, but his leg was torn up from the shrapnel. It was bad, but I couldn't tell how bad.
I glanced around to check for the last centurion. If he was still here, he'd make short work of us. We needed to get back behind the ventilation pump.
"Give me a hand with him," I whispered to Lorro. "Hurry!"
But when I turned, I saw Drace Lorro emerging from behind the pump. He was holding my KHG-S92 assault rifle, and it was aimed right at us.
Then he fired.
3
I threw myself to the ground as the KHG sprayed into the hallway behind me. With a grim look on his face, Lorro charged past me and fired again.
Scrambling to my knees, I turned and saw the remaining Maovan centurion slumped against the back wall of the corridor. He had been just about cut in half by the KHG.
