Dragon Team Seven

by Toby Neighbors

  Dragon Team Seven

  by

  Toby Neighbors

  Dragon Team Seven

  © 2019, Toby Neighbors

  Published by Mythic Adventure Publishing, LLC

  Idaho, USA

  All Rights Reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Copy Editing by Julie Duke

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Toby Neighbors Online

  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

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Books By Toby Neighbors

  Avondale

  Draggah

  Balestone

  Arcanius

  Avondale V

  Wizard Rising

  Magic Awakening

  Hidden Fire

  Fierce Loyalty

  Crying Havoc

  Evil Tide

  Wizard Falling

  Chaos Descending

  Into Chaos

  Chaos Reigning

  Chaos Raging

  Controlling Chaos

  Killing Chaos

  Lorik

  Lorik the Defender

  Lorik the Protector

  The Vault Of Mysteries

  Lords Of Ascension

  The Elusive Executioner

  Regulators Revealed

  Third Prince

  Royal Destiny

  The Other Side

  The New World

  Zompocalypse Omnibus

  We Are The Wolf

  Welcome To The Wolfpack

  Embracing Oblivion

  Joined In Battle

  The Abyss Of Savagery

  My Lady Sorceress

  The Man With No Hands

  ARC Angel

  Battle ARC

  Elder Wizard

  Spartan Company

  Spartan Valor

  Spartan Guile

  Charter

  Jack & Roxie

  Toby Neighbors Online

  www.TobyNeighbors.com

  www.Facebook.com/TobyNeighborsAuthor

  Instagram @TobyTheWriter

  On Twitter @TobyNeighbors

  Chapter 1

  “Okay, okay, everyone listen up,” Vice Principal Ackers said from the front of the auditorium. “This is your last day. So everyone listen up, and we’ll make this quick.”

  “For once, I hope he’s not lying,” Ty said.

  “Ackers loves the sound of his own voice,” Jules said. “No way this is short.”

  “It’s the last day,” Ember said. “He can’t keep us over. The whole school will riot.”

  Nicolas Nichols chuckled at the thought of his classmates in open rebellion. That thought—added to the fact that it was his last day of public school, ever—was enough to keep his spirits up, even if the vice principal went into one of his trademark, long-winded rants.

  “If you’re in the first two rows, congratulations. You’ve been accepted for continued education. The rest of you have less appealing options. For those of you with family money, you can look forward to a mediocre life, probably in your family business. The rest of you will be assigned to the Unskilled Labor Union. Pay your dues, work hard, and save as much as you can, and perhaps in sixty or seventy years you’ll have enough to buy into a better union or guild. I will only say this once, so please listen: if you are not at the ULU central office at eight o’clock sharp in the morning, you will not have a job. And you know what that means: maintenance on Mars or a mining venture off-world. Without work, there is no housing. Without housing, you will be considered a delinquent and treated as such. If you have questions, please see Counselor Veckle. Class of 2437, you are officially dismissed.”

  The entire auditorium jumped to their feet. Bright future or not, everyone was glad to be done with school. Nick followed his friends—who had all been sitting in the fifth row of the stadium—out of the building and into the rare Seattle sunshine. It seemed like a perfect day. And like every other graduate, Nick planned to make every second count.

  “Where to, Nick?” Kal asked. He was shorter than Nick, with black hair and the perpetual tan that arose from his Pacific Islander heritage.

  “Home to pack,” Nick said. “One hour and we meet back here.”

  “I can’t believe this is the last time I’ll ever go home,” Ember said. She was thin and taller than Kal, with fiery red hair and alabaster skin.

  “Nothing to miss there,” Jules said. She had the thick build of an athlete and kept her brunette hair shaved on the sides of her head.

  “Rumor has it that the ULU dorms are worse,” Ty said. He was the biggest of the group of friends. His skin was black, his shoulders broad, and his waist narrow. “You think that’s even possible?”

  “Sure,” Nick said. “But home is where we make it. Family too. As long as we’re together, we’ll be fine.”

  “Damn straight,” Kal said, giving Nick a high-five.

  They left the school’s green space together. It was the only place with real grass in the entire district. Just outside the school, huge high-rise buildings that looked like gray tombstones for giants rose up all around them. There were no streets—just wide walkways that formed a grid between the dull buildings. The lower levels of the institutional structures were semi-commercial. Of course, nothing but government-owned or subsidized businesses existed in Seattle’s eight districts. Overpopulation following the Great Trade over three centuries before had put a stranglehold on the world’s economy. When humans lived three times as long as they used to, there simply wasn’t enough of anything anymore—least of all living space.

  Nick and his friends lived in separate buildings, but they had been in school together for sixteen years, starting with preschool at age three. Finally, after enduring the rigors of public education and the crushing poverty of their exhausted parents, they were free…at least, it felt like freedom at the moment. They had choices, after all—even if none of the choices were appealing.

  Crime was epidemic in the cities, which meant working a job just to say out of the system. A person had more freedom on a colony, but the living environments were harsh and dangerous. Most people simply moved from public school into the working sector that was chosen for them. If a person didn’t excel at academics, have a small fortune, or possess some rare skill, they went into the Unskilled Labor Union to be shuffled into one of three divisions: maintenance, service jobs, or manufact
uring. Still, to Nick’s way of thinking, working and living on his own would be much more enjoyable than attending school, with its strict code of conduct, and being a drain on his parents’ paper-thin resources.

  He went up the six flights of stairs in building 418 on Pratt Street. The building was identical to all the others in Seattle’s urban jungle. His parents had managed to secure an apartment almost an entire century after they had graduated high school. Every day, they worked twelve-hour shifts and raised their government-approved two children in an apartment with less than 180 square feet of total space. Nick didn’t have a room; he had an alcove with three drawers beneath his mattress and a curtain for privacy.

  His mother worked the night shift, and while Nick didn’t respect his parents’ choices, he did love them. It wasn’t their fault that after working hard labor for a century, they had almost no energy left for their children. They even sacrificed seeing each other, as they worked opposing shifts so that there was always someone home in case their kids needed them. Still, attention and affection were not part of Nick’s childhood. The best way he felt he could show his parents his appreciation for raising him was to relieve them of the obligation of providing for him.

  He gently slid back the curtain that covered his narrow bed. His alcove was in the narrow space between the kitchen and bathroom of their tiny apartment. Lawrence, Nick’s younger brother, occupied an identical bunk below Nick’s. Their parents slept on a small bed pushed into the corner of the one-room apartment, shielded with oriental standing shades. In two years, when Lawrence moved out, they would have their humble abode back, along with the privacy it provided them—although it would make more sense to rent out the alcoves to supplement their meager income.

  “Nick,” his mother’s voice was thick. It was obvious she had just woken up.

  “Sorry, mom,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “That’s okay. Come here a second.”

  He slipped between the oriental shades, his bag filled with his clothes and toiletries already over one shoulder. All he needed was his coat, and he would have everything he owned removed from his parents’ apartment.

  “Did you get your assignment?” his mother asked.

  “ULU,” Nick said. “Orientation is at eight o’clock sharp.”

  “Aren’t you going to stay the night here? We could have a special meal together. I know your father would like to see you before you leave.”

  Nick knew that wasn’t true. His father wasn’t a bad guy, but he was so beaten down by the system that he was little more than a mindless cog. Every day he came home half an hour past seven, ate a protein bar, took a little yellow pill, and watched television until he passed out. Drugs were common, a crowd-control device used by large corporations to keep their work force content despite the lack of opportunities or fulfillment. His mother and father only saw each other one day a week, and over the years, that day had become a well-orchestrated act of avoidance. They didn’t talk about anything important, didn’t do anything that would necessitate free thought or exchange of opinions, and showed absolutely no affection. His parents shared one meal together, but otherwise allowed their partner to maintain their sleep schedule and routine.

  “Can’t. I’m going out with my friends,” Nick said. There was no need to defend his decision. Nick’s group of friends had been his de facto family for most of his life. His mother knew it was true, even if it pained her to admit it.

  “I want to know what you are doing,” she said. “I know you’re going to be busy, but there’s always time to write.”

  “I’ll message you, Mom. I promise.”

  She hugged him; it was the first hug he could remember since he was in grade school. He was surprised as tears stung his eyes.

  “Be safe,” she said suddenly, pushing him away.

  “I will, Mom.”

  She lay down on the narrow bed, rolling away from him. Nick stood by his mother’s bed, feeling sad for reasons he couldn’t explain and didn’t understand. Then he turned and walked out of their tiny home determined to face life on his own terms.

  Chapter 2

  Nick logged out of the bottling plant and went straight to the commissary. For two weeks he had slaved in the plant, scorching his hands on hot bottles straight out of the sterilization bath. He wore rubber gloves as he checked the safety seals on the bottle tops, with cotton gloves beneath that, but his hands still burned from the hot bottles—and the cotton gloves soaked with sweat until the skin on his fingers pruned and split. Still, his job wasn’t as labor-intensive as Kal’s in the protein-synthesizing factory or Ty’s building wooden pallets that were used to stack and move cargo.

  He joined the long line of workers waiting to access their credit accounts. It was payday, Nick’s first since joining the work force. He was anxious to see his money, even if it was just numbers on a screen. When he finally reached the front of the line, he stepped up to the kiosk and swiped his ID card, then punched in his PIN. The account overview came up, showing his balance after two weeks. His mouth went dry as he scanned the deductions. More than half of his paycheck had been withheld for taxes. Half of what was left went back to pay for his place in the dorm and his cafeteria plan. Most galling of all, the Unskilled Labor Union took a significant percentage of his pay as bi-monthly dues. What was left wouldn’t even be enough for a single night on the town.

  “Let’s go, kid,” the man in line behind Nick said.

  Anger burned in the pit of Nick’s stomach. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and to be rushed through the shocking experience made matters worse. Still, there was nothing to be done. He hit the exit icon and walked away with the bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth.

  For two weeks Nick and his friends had done their best to adjust to life among the aimless and depressing crowds of the ULU dormitories. The housing facilities were nothing more than long rooms with rows of cots. The security was lax, and there was absolutely no privacy. Still, he saw his friends every evening, and they took their first and last meal each day together. When a group of dubious-looking people in gray coats came around calling themselves inspectors, the group of friends stood together and kept the thieves away from their meager belongings. It wasn’t much, but the people around them had even less. Most were isolated, abused, and without friends. When Nick got back to the dorm, he saw immediately that his friends were just as frustrated and depressed as he was over his pathetic paycheck.

  “Finally,” Kal said. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  “Might as well,” Ty said. “We’re paying enough for the food, if you can call it that.”

  “I thought the cafeteria at school was bad,” Jules said.

  “At least it was free,” Ty said. “I didn’t know things could get worse.”

  “So you all got paid?” Nick asked.

  “More like robbed,” Kal said.

  “How was your account?” Ember asked Nick.

  “Barely there,” he said. “Less than a hundred creds.”

  “It’s outrageous,” Ty complained as they walked down to the cafeteria. “At this rate, we’ll never get out of here.”

  “I guess the teachers were right,” Kal said. “If we scrimp and save for a hundred years, we might be able to buy an apartment.”

  “It’s not right, man,” Ty said.

  “What choice do we have?” Nick said, trying to calm his friend down. “We have to work. I don’t think busting rock in the Belt would be any better. If the food here is bad, think how terrible things would be on Mars.”

  “We could always go black market,” Jules said. “I know some people dealing uppers that make three times what we do, and they don’t pay a cent in taxes.”

  “And how long would that last before we’re caught and locked up?” Ember said. “I’ll take ULU over prison, thank you very much.”

  They went into the cafeteria and stood in line for nearly half an hour, only to get a small tray with bland protein loaf, cra
ckers, syntha-fruit, and tea so weak that it was little more than water. They all ate simply to fuel their bodies, which was what the meal was designed to do. They could buy better food if they had enough credits, but what they had wouldn’t go far outside the ULU district. They were on their way back to the dorm when Nick spotted the flyer for the Space Marines. He plucked it from the announcement board almost on a whim and didn’t even look at it until he was in his bunk.

  It didn’t take a genius to realize how good he actually had things back home. At least in his little alcove bed in his parents’ apartment, he could pull the curtain and have a little privacy. Back home, no one followed him into the bathroom. His parents’ apartment was quieter too and more comfortable, even if it was just a tiny, one-room dwelling.

  He was tired, but sleep eluded him in the noisy room. People were talking and playing games, and some were snoring so loudly that they sounded like wild animals caught in a trap. Nick rolled onto his side and pulled the brochure out. It was an old-fashioned printed flyer—just a sheet of paper. Nick knew about the Space Marines. The Proxy took people off-world, trained them in combat, and dropped them on contested planets. Of course, he only knew what the Proxy wanted him to know. Since first contact, the aliens had been secretive. Their technology had saved millions of lives, which seemed like a good thing—until the planet was busting at the seams. To alleviate the pressure, the Proxy (as they were known) offered to take as many able-bodied men and women into their employ as were willing to go. But those people never came back, and most humans distrusted the tall, strange-looking aliens.

  The brochure was enticing, Nick had to admit. In bold letters it outlined several reasons why joining the service was a step up from his current position. Tax-free income, the flyer promised. Food, uniforms, and housing supplied at no cost to enlisted personnel. Signing bonus, skills training, and—most importantly—transportation to Elysium for every marine who completes the terms of their enlistment.

  Nick lay back and considered the idea. He had seen the holo-vids of Elysium; the planet was paradise. Of course, there was no real proof it existed. Movie-makers created fantasy worlds all the time, complete with animals and plant life. The movies looked so real, just like the holo-vids of Elysium. But without the technology for interstellar travel—a secret the Proxy were unwilling to share at any cost—the only way to reach the enticing world was on board their war ships. And once a person was there, they had no way back…not that Nick could think of a compelling reason to want to come back to an overcrowded and polluted Earth.