Star Brigade: Resurgent (Star Brigade Book 1) (2 page)

Fennimore’s homeworld was now Terra Sollus, the prosperous capital world to the star-spanning Galactic Union of Planetary Republics and the residence for over 10 billion inhabitants of several species. Most infamously, Terra Sollus was now the replacement homeworld for earthborn humans.

Replacement homeworld.
Fennimore still scoffed at the disagreeable thought. A bitter stitch tightened in his chest, even though it was 2403, twenty-six years later. As beautiful as Terra Sollus was, as eerily similar as it looked like Earth from space, any time his former home came to mind, it was just a painful reminder to him of what the Korvenites had ripped away from him…from all of Earth’s children. “Stupid mindrapers,” Fennimore hissed. He had half a mind to give them another jolt just out of spite. But the human restrained himself and pivoted away from the ship’s monitoring array to stalk across the wide half-circle that housed the ship’s bridge.

Once Fennimore had plopped back to his command chair, he cast an approving gaze at his diverse and handpicked crew with a sense of pride. It didn’t matter whether it was the Nnaxan male Ensign sitting at helm in front of him, the towering Kintarian sitting at comm to his far right or any of his forty-member, mostly human, crew. All were true Unionists, proud to be member races in the Galactic Union and unquestioningly behind their Chouncilor, elected leader of the Union, in all his decisions. Fennimore wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Why are we transporting these Korvies again?” Cal Edmunds, his human second-in-command asked as Fennimore settled into his seat. “I mean it’s so tiny a load from our usual drop off.”

“These are no-good slackers like all Korvies,” Fennimore hissed through his teeth. “Most of them are mind-movers. That’s why they’re being sent to Alorum’s Light, to whip their worthless asses into shape.”

The name Alorum’s Light cast a hush over the bridge. The Kintarian comm officer’s tawny fur stood on end. “The worst of the worst. The stories I’ve heard about that place,” he purred in accented Standard.

“Serves them right, H’Merioph!” Fennimore snapped. He then leaned in the Kintarian’s direction with an elbow propped on his chair’s armrest, readying to educate his crew as he had countless times in the past. “I’ve never trusted them Korvies, them with their mind tricks. We humans taking their planet was no less than they deserved after what they did to Earth….”

He didn’t miss how Cal Edmunds, H’Merioph and the other six bridge crewmembers all exchanged secret eye rolls amidst their duties. But Fennimore didn’t care. It didn’t take much to get him on an anti-Korvenite rant, to enlighten the non-humans with enough sense to listen.

“If it was up to me, I’d throw all those little
blekdritts
in carrier ships and send them directly into the Rhyne sun. That’d be a permanent solution to the mindraper problem.” Fennimore sucked in a deep breath and sank into his command seat, openly pleased with himself.

“Well,” Cal smoothed back his curly hair, eager to change the subject. “I’ll just be glad once this Union-Imperium merger is over with. It’s still over a month away, but you’d think the bleeding thing’s happening tomorrow with all the TransNet coverage they give it.”

“I think it’ll be graw-nd for the Union,” said Jolii Rayber, the other Ensign at helm, a coffee-brown human female with amethyst-colored eyes. Her brogue resembled a mashup of British and Australian accents. That always rankled Fennimore, as the drawl betrayed her non-Earth roots. Jolii had the misfortune of hailing from the Union memberworld Cercidale. Important xenobiology folks had long ago declared that the planet’s natives were ‘human,’ calling themselves Cercidaleans or Cercs. Due to Cercidale’s ubiquitous red mountains, mesas and canyons, they were also nicknamed ‘crimsonborn’ humans.
Like how true humans from Earth are earthborn
. Jolii was a solid officer, so Fennimore tried his damndest not to hold the non-Earth ancestry against her. “Cawn’t wayeet to see what the Kedri Imperium impoh-rts in,” the Cerc woman continued.

Fennimore snorted and idly scratched his paunch. He, of course, had an opinion on that, too. “Never trusted them Kedri warmongers. Never will. But I trust our Chouncilor to keep them in line.”

Cal snorted. “The Kedri aren’t some barbaric pre-stellar race, Nate. They’ve been a dominant hyperpower for over a millennium.” Fennimore, fuming at an inferior showing him up, leaned in to retort.

“Captain?”

Fennimore turned to the helm. Both human and Nnaxan ensigns had called, sounding puzzled. Cal’s browbeating would have to wait. “Go ahead.”

“Multiple projectiles just appeared alongside the
Fennimore
,” Jolii answered.

Fennimore frowned. “Onscreen.” The viewscreen switched from the space view to an outside diagram of the
Fennimore.
He saw a wire frame model of its long barrel-shaped body and the hammerhead rear housing the stellar drive engines, plus four small spheres appearing out of nowhere alongside the transport. One in front, another on port side, a third on starboard and the last one behind the engines. A jolt had run through Cal. He’d seen those before, used by asteroid miners. “Aren’t those—?”

“Z-BOMBS!” H’Merioph yowled. It was common knowledge that just one z-bomb could unleash a colossal seismic shock when triggered. With four of them appearing out of nowhere around Fennimore’s ship, the mood in the bridge instantly switched from casual to crisis mode.

“All hands brace for impact. Shie—” The words “Shields up” never made it out of Fennimore’s mouth. On the diagram, all four z-bombs exploded; each heaved out shock wave after escalating shock wave. And that was when his world turned upside down.

It was like a giant grabbed the
Fennimore
and shook the ship like a bowl of tossed salad. Captain Fennimore was thrown from his seat, smacking chest first on the unforgiving bridge floor. But he had no time to process the pain. The ship lurched repeatedly, hurled Fennimore and his crew into one another, and then slammed them against the walls. Sparks flew from blown consoles and damaged machinery.

Finally, after the longest three macroms of Fennimore’s life, the tremors stopped. He found himself sprawled in front of the helm. A sharp pain in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he managed to roll into a sitting position and survey his bridge. Smoke covered his vision, but not enough of it.

Bodies of his crew members were strewn all over the bridge, though none appeared dead. Sparks flew from the comm and Ops stations, both visibly wilted by the z-bomb assault. Oddly enough, the viewscreen stayed intact. Fennimore gritted his teeth, barely holding in a furious roar. Someone had attacked
his
ship,
his
pride,
his
joy. Whoever did this was going to pay!

“Damage report.” Fennimore wiped at a busted lip and fought up to one knee. No one answered immediately. He barked the words out again. “Damage report!”

“The weapons array and stellar drives are offline,” was Cal’s weak reply. He’d somehow ended up near comms, operating a diagnostic wall console at frenetic speed. “We also have minor hull fractures on the port side.”

The Nnaxan ensign crawled on all sixes back into his seat. Using his two right hands, he began operating the sections of his console not sparking or charred before he spoke. The craniowhisks branching out from his forehead and down his back twitched nervously. “Bioscans are picking up a sentient out there in space, barely fifty pentametrids in front of us. It’s alive and in good health.”

Of all things to divulge after his ship had been attacked, the stupid Nnaxan updates him on their attacker’s health. Fennimore studied him through narrowed eyes. “What is it, a betelydra, a centolydra?” This was pretty far off from any of those creatures’ roost of nebulas, but he figured it was worth a guess.

“No.” The ensign looked back at the captain, and cringed at having to say the words. “A Korvenite.”

[Your faith in our deity will be rewarded, Vantor.]
The words boomed in Vantor’s head; calm, potent and beguiling. He opened his eyes and gazed around the cell. Yet every Korvenite in the dank little cell was restrained physically and psychically. Probably his imagination playing tricks from being in this cell too long. Vantor bowed his head again to continue his prayers to Korvan.

[There is no need for that, young one. Korvan has answered your prayers for freedom.]

Vantor shrieked, and would have jumped two metrids in the air if not for the shackles that held him. For a nanoclic, he thought he had lost it…until he saw the faces of Cymae, Rouma and every other Korvenite in the cell. They all wore the same disbelief that he felt. Rouma in particular looked as if he had heard a ghost. “[You all heard that voice in your head?]” Vantor frowned, not believing he said that. With all the restraining bolts in their heads, no Korvenite in captivity could use Mindspeak.

[I am free, as will all of you be,]
the voice replied through Mindspeak. Vantor gasped. The gravity of this drilled him in the stomach. A free Korvenite with all his Korvan-given abilities.

“[It can’t…be,]” Rouma breathed, his haggard face wrought with fear and disbelief.

“[Who, Rouma?]” Khasos demanded in a panicky manner. His eyes darted from Rouma to Vantor. “[Who is speaking in our heads?]”

Rouma said nothing, his gaze glassy and distant.

[Maelstrom, ordained llyriac to the Way, Korvan’s Anointed herald,]
the voice boomed again.
[Rouma was once a most loyal follower until his capture three years ago. But he and all of you will no longer know prison walls or mistreatment. In the name of the Korvenite Deity, I will liberate you.]

Several Korvenites cried out in joy and disbelief. Maelstrom, the Korvenite llyriac of this same name, reportedly slain by Union Command almost four years ago. Khasos suddenly looked as if he had soiled himself. The touch of this strange Korvenite’s mind was too genuine to doubt. The strength from his thoughts brimmed with dedication to Korvan’s Way.

“[Korvan has answered our prayers,]” Vantor whispered and smiled. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had anything to genuinely smile about. His spirit soared higher than ever before.

“[Korvan!]” yelped another Korvenite. “[He has sent his Anointed herald to liberate us!]”

[All I need is a moment to deal with those who imprison you. Don’t lose hope. Freedom is coming.]
And with that, Maelstrom was gone. Vantor felt the llyriac’s presence dissipate from his mind, and then noticed the tears that wet his own face. The room quickly filled with sniffs and noisy sobs of joy.

[“Maelstrom….]” Vantor finally remembered to breathe, barely able to whisper thanks to his deity.

“A Korvenite out in space!!?” Fennimore shot out of his seat, barely containing his rage.

“Affirmative, sir. Roughly a hundred pentametrids away.” The Nnaxan helm kept his eyes on the console when he answered to avoid Fennimore’s wild glare. “But it’s surrounded by a force field made of psychic energy—”

“Zoom in on this thing so we can kill it.” Fennimore irritably waved off the warning. The viewscreen zoomed in on the Korvenite in question by a factor of fifty. And Fennimore nearly had a heart attack.

“No, no! NO!” His voice grew louder with each denial he shouted out. Not caring who saw him, the captain immediately backpedaled and plopped into his seat. Luckily, no one even gave him a second glance. Every crew member present stared in outright fear at the viewscreen. Some swore, others muttered in astonishment while a few just stood at their posts with their jaws or mandibles hanging open.

Three years ago, Fennimore had seen this renegade Korvenite and his terrorist group on the news network IPNN. He had heard of this terrorist’s relentless pilgrimage to get back the homeworld for his race. The images on the news of humans slaughtered in this monster’s wake still made him shudder. Now that very same Korvenite butcher glared back at him across the darkness of space. Maelstrom, leader of the Korvenite Independence Front and presumed dead by all, floated in the middle of open space and on Nathaniel Fennimore’s viewscreen. The Korvenite didn’t smile or frown, but exuded a supremacy unlike any this crew had come close to seeing from its own captain.

The Korvenite’s long curly locks of violet floated in an almost rhythmic manner. His arms were folded across his chest as the taciturn solar winds whipped his indigo cape into a frenzy. Countless outlying stars shimmered off his sable-hued armor, which perfectly fit the Korvenite’s robust build. His black and gold eyes were cold, clearly bearing no tolerance for insolence.

It didn’t matter that he and Fennimore were miles apart and separated by a ship. Maelstrom’s glower made Fennimore tremble…like a frightened child. “K-Kill that mindraper NOW!” Fennimore ordered.

The Nnaxan offered an answer. “Sir, our weapons array is still down—”

“THEN RAM HIM!” Fennimore roared. Everyone on the bridge jumped in their seat.

On the viewscreen Maelstrom’s eyes flashed bright gold.
Given your current position, I wouldn’t be so eager to deal out death,
he Mindspoke not in Korcei, but in the Standard Speech of the Galactic Union.

“NAAAAW!” Fennimore grasped at his skull as if to tear out his own brain. It knew his title and probably his name as well. “Get out of my head,
mindraper
!!”