Ep.#3 - Resurrection (The Frontiers Saga - Part 2: Rogue Castes) Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Frontiers Saga Part 2: Rogue Castes

  Episode #3: Resurrection

  Copyright © 2016 by Ryk Brown All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The gleaming, red-trimmed, glossy, black shuttle came to rest on the landing pad atop the Hall of Nobles in the Takaran capital city of Answari. Within seconds of touchdown, its boarding ramp lowered from the stern, and a plethora of well-armored guards marched out confidently, forming a line on either side.

  Takaran guards on either side of the elevator entrance exchanged worried glances at the sight of the well-armed, strictly disciplined contingent of troops. Their instinct was to defend their position, but their orders, which they wisely chose to follow, dictated otherwise. No resistance was to be offered…

  …Not yet.

  The enemy guards, twenty-four in all, stood facing outward with weapons held at the ready, as several officers made their way down the ramp. At the bottom, the officers scanned the ground, checking that the area was secure. One of the officers raised his right hand and signaled to those still inside the black and red shuttle.

  Next, one man dressed in a form-fitting black uniform came down the ramp. He was tall, with a foreboding presence that instantly struck fear in the hearts of all who laid eyes on him. He was square-jawed and muscular, with well-weathered features that matched the graying hair at his temples and on his perfectly groomed goatee. But what struck the Takaran guards most was the deadly confidence in the man’s eyes as he headed toward them, without hesitation or concern for his own safety.

  The lines of enemy guards flanked their leader with practiced precision, maintaining a wall of firepower that all but surrounded him. No one walked in front this man…ever.

  The two Takaran guards kept their weapons slung, moving aside as ordered. The door opened, and the leader and several of his guards and officers stepped inside the elevator, turning around to face the door as it closed.

  Once the door had closed, the remaining officer barked a command, and the rest of the guards spread out to secure the rooftop landing pad. Once satisfied that his men had properly repositioned themselves, the officer turned back to the two Takaran guards standing nervously astride the elevator doors. He looked them both up and down, eyeing both their weapons slung on their shoulders, as well as those holstered on their hips. A small smile crept across his face as he noted their failure to conceal their fear. “Place your rifles on the ground in front of you, and remove your waist arms,” the officer ordered, in surprisingly perfect Takaran.

  The two guards shared shocked looks with one another.

  “I shall not ask again,” the officer added.

  After another exchange of confused glances, the two guards complied, each of them carefully following the officer’s instructions.

  The officer watched with great satisfaction, waiting until both men were completely disarmed before continuing. “Do you have families?” Neither man answered, again looking confused. “Is my Takaran incorrect?”

  “Uh, no, sir,” the guard on the right answered.

  “Well, then… Do you have families?”

  “Yes… Yes, I do,” the guard answered.

  The officer looked at the other guard. “And you?”

  “A wife, sir,” the other guard replied nervously.

  “No children?”

  “We are expecting… In three months,” the guard said.

  The officer nodded his understanding. “Return to your families, burn your uniforms, and look for new careers.” The officer waited for a moment, but again, the guards looked confused. “That, or die here and now.”

  “But… we swore an oath to protect…”

  “That is our responsibility now, not yours,” the officer said, cutting the guard off mid-sentence. “However, if you wish to die this day in order to honor your oath, I can certainly respect that.” The officer smiled coldly. “The choice is yours, of course, but I would consider how your needless deaths will affect those you love, before making your decisions.”

  One last look between them was all that was required.

  “Yes, sir,” the first guard said. “Thank you, sir,” he added, as he stepped back away from his post. The other guard did the same, bowing respectfully to the enemy officer who had just allowed them to continue living. Both men quickly moved away, and then disappeared down a side ladder.

  The officer turned back toward the shuttle, a satisfied grin on his face. There was nothing more rewarding than victory.

  * * *

  It had been a long and fitful night for Connor Tuplo. Images of their mission to Corinair made sleep almost impossible for him, especially with visions of Travon Dumar, a man he had never met, sacrificing himself on Connor’s behalf. And the dying man’s last words… You will find a way. You are Na-Tan.

  Being captain of a ship, one with a crew, all of whom depended on him to keep them alive and fed, had been a difficult enough responsibility for Connor to become accustomed to. But this?

  I am not Na-Tan. Connor repeated this to himself again and again, but it didn’t seem to stick. If anything, it reinforced the same question he had carried with him for the last five years. Who am I?

  Connor walked up to the guest quarters building on the Ghatazhak base that accommodated those rescued from Corinair the day before. He was about to reach for the door, when it opened suddenly.

  “Captain,” Doran Montrose said with surprise. “It’s great to see you again, sir.”

  Connor looked confused for a moment. “Uh…”

  “From the rescue?” Doran quickly added, recognizing the young man’s confusion. “I was among those you and your crew rescued.”

  “Ah… Of course.”

  “Thank you,” Doran added, reaching out to shake Connor’s hand. “Again.”

  “Again?” Connor asked without really thinking, as he shook Doran’s hand.

  “Yes, it’s not the first time that you’ve rescued us from certain death.” Doran suddenly realized the reason for Connor’s confusion. “Well, the first time for you, I suppose. I know you don’t remember the previous times.” Doran smiled comfortingly. “Rest assured, though, that I shall never forget them. Nor shall all the others who made it home to their loved ones, because of you.”

  “But, I’m not really him, am I.” Connor wasn’t asking a question.

  “I guess that depends on your point of view,” Doran replied, a contemplative look on his face.

  “Then you knew me before?” Connor asked. “I mean, you knew him?”

&
nbsp; “Him, you… I’ve known you both. I served under you in the Alliance, and I was there when you woke…in your new body.”

  “Then, you consider me to be Nathan Scott,” Connor surmised, trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. “Even though I have no memory of that life?”

  Doran looked down for a moment. “It is difficult to explain…” He chuckled. “It is difficult to understand, even for me.” He looked at Connor. “To me, it does not matter. You are Nathan… You are Connor. You are both men… Different, and yet the same.”

  “Then, you also think I am this Na-Tan?”

  Doran smiled broadly. “I have always believed you to be Na-Tan, and I doubt that I shall ever stop.” Doran put his hands on Connor’s shoulders. “He is in there, somewhere, waiting to be awakened. Of this, I am quite certain. Only you can decide the if, and the when.” Doran sighed. “Regardless, I still appreciate what you, be you Connor Tuplo or Nathan Scott, did for myself and my family yesterday. This too shall always be remembered.” Doran patted Connor on the shoulder again, and continued on his way, leaving him more confused than before.

  * * *

  “All rise for our Lord Dusahn!” the guard at the entrance to the Takaran Hall of Nobles commanded in Takaran.

  The line of Jung officers on either side of the hall snapped to attention. The Takaran nobles who had been forced to attend were somewhat less enthusiastic, standing nonetheless.

  Lord Dusahn strode confidently into the middle of the hall, dressed in his usual, form-fitting, black uniform trimmed in crimson. He stopped in the middle of the room, pausing to look upon the thirty-plus leaders of the noble houses of Takara. Although his face did not reflect it, he took great satisfaction in the knowledge that these men, the wealthiest, most powerful men in the Takaran system, as well as all that they owned, were now his to do with as he pleased. This knowledge was nourishment to his soul, feeding his long desire for conquest and power. He had spent the last thirty years in search of an empire to call his own. Now, sprawled before him, were the very seeds of that empire.

  Lord Dusahn caught notice of two men who were not standing. They were both middle-aged, yet appeared strong and healthy. Unlike the other nobles, they wore the trappings of warriors, not statesmen.

  A brief, almost unnoticeable glance to one of Lord Dusahn’s officers to his right was all that was needed. Within seconds, four armed guards moved, weapons at the ready, toward the sitting men. Following them was an officer, obviously their senior.

  “You will rise and show your respect for our lord,” the officer instructed them sternly.

  One of the men turned slowly to look at the officer before speaking. “We will show our respect, when we have been shown something worthy of it,” the man said in a low, growling voice.

  The officer snapped his fingers, and the guards instantly pointed their energy rifles at the two sitting men. “Rise, or die.”

  The two men stared at the officer, unwavering. Finally, they slowly rose to their feet, their menacing gaze never leaving the offensive officer.

  The officer was steadfast. Once the two men had assumed a standing position, he gave them another order. “Bow to your lord.”

  Again, the senior of the two men who now stood as the rest, glared at the officer. “Ybarans bow to no one,” he growled, looking as if he might bite the head off the officer at any moment.

  Still undaunted by the Ybaran statesman’s threatening posture, the officer, whose eyes were still locked on him, took a step closer, putting himself no more than a half meter away from the man’s face. “Are you sure?”

  “I am,” the Ybaran replied without hesitation.

  “And do you speak for all Ybarans?” the officer inquired.

  “I do.”

  “Very well,” the officer replied, finally breaking eye contact with the elder Ybaran. “Kill them,” he ordered his men as he stepped back.

  A split second later, four bolts of energy leapt from the soldier’s rifles, all of them drilling into the heads of the two Ybarans.

  Noblemen all around the Ybarans gasped in horror, jumping back as the two bodies fell to the floor. Smoke from the still burning flesh of the statesmen wafted upward, quickly spreading through the room to remind everyone in attendance of what happens to those who disobey their new ruler.

  The officer turned toward Lord Dusahn without looking at the fallen Ybarans. “Shall I dispatch their world, my lord?”

  “Promptly,” Lord Dusahn replied, without the slightest hint of remorse on his face.

  Noblemen across the great hall exchanged glances of disbelief, as the gravity of the officer’s inquiry, as well as his leader’s response, hit them. They were all suddenly faced with a new reality.

  Lord Dusahn took a deep breath as he looked at the faces of the nobles, measuring their reactions. Shock and horror, just as he expected. These men would be easy to control, just as his intelligence had indicated. “I am Lord Dusahn, ruler of the Dusahn Empire, of which you are now subjects.” He spoke in a voice that was confident, but controlled. He did not yell, or attempt to intimidate them. He simply spoke as if he had no doubts that every word was absolute truth. “From this day forward, you shall all serve the Dusahn. Cooperate, and your businesses shall continue to profit, your industries shall continue to grow, and you shall all live in prosperity. Your worlds, your resources, and your technologies, shall be added to ours.”

  “To what end?”

  Lord Dusahn looked in the direction from which the question had come.

  “To what end, my lord?”

  “Identify yourself,” the officer who had confronted the Ybarans demanded.

  “Milas Christova, leader of House Christova,” the man replied, standing. “I mean no disrespect, my lord,” he continued politely, “and if I am speaking out of turn, I offer my sincerest apologies. But this is the first audience we have had with you, and we know not your empire’s protocols in such matters.”

  The officer looked to Lord Dusahn, expecting a subtle signal from his leader to end the man’s life. But the signal did not come.

  “A fair question,” Lord Dusahn finally replied. “Speak your mind, Mister Christova.”

  “If you seek to utilize our resources, industries, and technologies, then surely you have a goal in mind?”

  “The goal of any empire is to expand its influence as far as possible,” Lord Dusahn explained simply.

  “But again, to what end?” Mister Christova wondered.

  “Humanity is scattered far and wide,” Lord Dusahn continued. “They are weak, disorganized, and inefficient. They exist without purpose, accomplishing little. Advanced, industrialized systems such as yours are few and far between, connected only by loose strings of marginal colonies struggling to survive, let alone thrive. The Dusahn mean to connect them. Give them purpose and prosperity.”

  “By conquering them,” Mister Christova pointed out.

  A sinister smile came across Lord Dusahn’s face. “My vision requires the participation of all inhabited worlds, Mister Christova.”

  “And those who do not share your vision?”

  “They shall learn to do so,” Lord Dusahn insisted.

  “And if they do not?”

  “Then they shall be eliminated. The Dusahn do not tolerate disobedience, as the Ybarans are about to learn. I trust you have no objections, Mister Christova?”

  “No, my lord. Not from myself, nor from any of my fellow nobles, I suspect,” Mister Christova was quick to reply. “But the Corinairans, as well as several other worlds, are still members of the Sol-Pentaurus Alliance. It was my understanding that the Alliance and the Jung Empire had agreed to end hostilities years ago. When the Alliance learns of your presence in the Pentaurus cluster…”

  “The Jung Empire has grown fragmented and weak,�
� Lord Dusahn stated, his voice seething with disdain. “The Dusahn caste now stands apart.”

  “But the Alliance will come nonetheless,” Mister Christova insisted. “Be you Jung or be you Dusahn, you will still be considered an unwelcome aggressor.”

  Lord Dusahn took in a deep breath, looking as confident as ever. “Do not concern yourself with the Alliance,” he said dismissively. “Concern yourselves only with how each of your noble houses will profit by your cooperation with the Dusahn Empire.”

  * * *

  Connor stood in the corridor outside Doctor Sato’s quarters, staring at the door. Behind it were at least some of the answers he needed. The problem was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to know those answers. He was happy with his life. It wasn’t an easy one, since they were almost always living from job to job. And that would only get worse now that the Jung occupied the Pentaurus cluster.

  All morning, Connor had been wondering if he had done the right thing by helping Jessica and the Ghatazhak. It was possible the Jung gunship that had fired on them during the Asa-Cafon rescue had not identified them. But now, that was even more unlikely. Had he refused, he might have been able to continue operating on the outer fringes of the Pentaurus sector, at least for a while. At the very least, the Seiiki would not be a hunted vessel. Unfortunately, after yesterday’s events, it most certainly would be.

  Refusing to help would have been the logical choice, as it would have increased their chances of survival. The Ghatazhak fixed his ship, and had fueled and provisioned her. He could have taken his ship and headed for either the Torramire sector, or the Bednali sector. Both were sufficient distances away to ensure at least a few years of operation before the Jung came knocking at their doors, as well. And neither sector had been introduced to jump drive technology. He could have cleaned up enough to go even further out into the lost colonies of the core. Assuming they could protect themselves from pirates and the like. Rumor was that piracy was an even greater problem outside of the Pentaurus sector. Systems such as Sherma, Gaiperura, and Peabody, all of which were just outside the Pentaurus sector, had seen more than a few raids. Had it not been for the presence of the Ghatazhak, those raids might have been more frequent.