ROYAL LINE (War In The Void Book 3)

by Anthony Thackston

  Contents

  Title Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Dual Front

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  ROYAL LINE

  War in the Void Book Three

  by

  Anthony Thackston

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  No part, section or chapter from this book may be reproduced in any capacity outside of the original work without author’s written consent except where brief quotes are used for review.

  Copyright © 2017 Anthony Thackston

  One

  The King

  The light absorbing obsidian walls of the Grand Council chamber barely diffused the roar of chaos outside in the streets of Shugaar. Cries and screams of the people of Shugaar joined with the roars and hisses of Ka’traxis Brood warriors while LAV thrusters screamed overhead. The council members were afraid for their people but glad they were not outside to witness the carnage. Or worse, be victims of it.

  What little elation they had would be nonexistent if they fully understood in whose presence they were.

  His footsteps were light but indicated a massive weight as the sound of his padded feet pressed into the floor. With each raise of his foot, sharpened claws scratched the polished obsidian, leaving gouges that would forever scar the hallowed space.

  The Nordic council men huddled together on the floor of the council room, no longer high in their chairs, above those who would seek their guidance. A few of them sat on their knees while the others remained standing but tense. The elder Nordic men’s breathing was fast, shallow and erratic. They made no other sound louder than the sound of claws clicking and scratching the floor.

  They watched the dark figure as he walked just at the edge of the light, which was just enough to reflect off his eyes. A reflection that gave them a supernatural glow, obscuring the true details of a pupil or iris.

  The massive figure circled the councilmen like a predator waiting to strike. He kicked a leg out of his way. It belonged to one of the eight Council Guards, dead by wounds hidden in the dark. The large foot stepped on a guardsman’s sword, unfazed by the sharpness of the blade.

  The old council members listened, waiting for either an indication of attack or some sort of demand. To their worry and their relief, they were denied both as the seconds went on. The only purposeful sound that came from the figure stalking them was a hard purring. It was like small drums being banged upon. Rhythmic and even, with no signs of irritation or fatigue.

  Another explosive sound broke through the dark walls, startling the Nordics in the center of the room. Each of them looked around, waiting for something to crash through the walls. A few of them were even hopeful. An aircraft, a vehicle of some sort or even a building— anything to free them from the torture of waiting while their captor continued circling them without reveal of purpose or demand.

  The lead councilman brought his attention back to the dark figure. “Please, what—what is it you want? We have done everything else that you have asked.”

  Those sitting on the floor finally stood, imbued with a small flare of bravery as one of their own addressed the shadowed individual.

  The figure stopped and looked at the floor, ignoring the question. He leaned down and picked up a guard’s fallen sword.

  The blade shone in the light, reflecting onto the face of the predator. Sharpened teeth gleamed behind a sinister smile. A smile that was promptly hidden again as the blade turned away from the light.

  The figure moved fast, throwing the sword above the council members’ heads, forcing them lower to the floor to avoid the perceived attack.

  Those who shut their eyes, slowly opened them and stood up straight. All of them braced for another attack but were met only by silence and the sight of only themselves and what little of the dead guards they could see. Their captor was nowhere to be found. There was no sound of claws or steps on the floor. The hard purring was gone. And, to the respite of them all, those glowing eyes had disappeared from their view.

  “Where did he go?” one of the Nordics asked.

  “Hush,” another scolded. “Be glad that he is gone.”

  “Gone?” a well versed and powerful voice replied.

  The councilmen all spun around to see the large, armored Ka’traxis Brood warrior stepping into the light.

  “Apologies for causing you false assumption,” the Catter said. “I have far from taken my leave.”

  He wore a black body armor with gold edges at the shoulders. His fur covered arms were unprotected but judging by their size, they needed little in the way of security. His tail whipped around through a hole in the back of pants that went down just under the knee. Black shin guards with the same gold at the edges covered what the pants did not. A rounded guard went from the knee, all the way down to the ankles where, just like the arms, fur covered, bare feet rested heavily on the floor. On his head rested a silver band of two strips of metal that met at a point on his forehead and curled around the back of his ears which held it in place.

  “You men are well revered on Erra. Respected. Your people look to you for guidance.” The Catter leaned down, meeting at eye level with one of the councilmen. “They look to you for safety.” He smiled.

  The expression hinted at a malice never seen before on Erra. It was worse than the method by which the council guards were dispatched.

  “We are—” one of the members began.

  “Leaders,” the Catter interrupted.

  “Yes,” several of the council members said in unison.

  The Catter rose back up. Nordics, traditionally somewhat taller than humans, were still shorter than the Ka’traxis Brood. This one standing before the Councilmen dwarfed them. His form and stature were so imposing that the older men shrank back, creating an even larger gap in height.

  “A commonality between us,” the Catter said. “I, too, am a leader among my people.”

  “Then you can put a stop to the destruction outside?”

  The Catter glanced up toward the ceiling as though pondering the question. He tapped a clawed finger on his chin. “I suppose that would be an easy task for me. Truly, it would only take one word.” His eyes lowered to the councilmen. He smiled, revealing his sharp teeth for far longer than a moment of reflected light allowed. “But what do you offer in return for such a request?”

  The councilmen turned to one another, uncertain of what they could give in return for the safety of a planet and its people. They spoke low together.

  The eldest of the Nordics finally rose. “We have nothing the Ka’traxis Brood would be interested in. Erra and her people have no mind for war, thus we have no tools to offer a species which—”

  “Choose your words carefully, councilman,” the Catter turned away from the Nordics. “You would not want to insult the one who holds your peoples’ li
ves in his grasp.”

  “We know nothing of you,” one of the council members claimed.

  The others spoke in more whispers, all protesting the tone their fellow member conveyed. Their words fell on deaf ears.

  “You say you are a leader amongst your people. That you can stop the pain being inflicted on our own. If you truly wanted something, you would tell us what it is instead of toying with us as such.”

  The Catter’s eyes furrowed slightly and his mouth curled up as though the Nordic’s words amused him. Like every other expression the Catter had, this one, too, made the Grand Council members uneasy. They pulled at their fellow member and tried their best to silence him before they met the same fate as their guards.

  The Catter turned back to them. “No need for behavioral corrections. Such a wise group of men. You are correct in that you know nothing of me. I have yet to introduce myself. Allow me to correct that oversight.”

  The Nordics released their fellow member and waited for the next words from the polite but threatening Catter.

  The Ka’traxis Brood warrior bowed his head. “My name is Tar’libon S-dahl. King and ruler of the Ka’traxis Brood Empire.” He lifted his head.

  The Nordic men shuffled and murmured words of confusion amongst one another.

  Tar’libon cocked his head to one side. “An interesting reaction.”

  The Council members returned their attention to the alien.

  “You claim patriarchy of your people,” one of the members said.

  “By birthright.” Tar’libon said.

  “But the Ka’traxis have no king. All know they are ruled by a queen.”

  The hand shot out so fast, the Council members barely had time to react, especially the one whose head had come to be gripped by the powerful hand of Tar’libon.

  “You dare to question my rule!” Tar’libon lifted the councilman from the floor. The Catter barely strained as he took the full weight of the Nordic by one arm. The old Nordic held onto the furry wrist and kicked his feet, trying to find solid ground.

  The other council members looked on in fear at their fellow Nordic being treated as nothing more than a rag doll.

  “Please?” one of them begged. “We have never heard of a Ka’traxis Brood King. The histories of your people have no such recorded information. You cannot harm us for something we did not know.” His words came out fast in their attempt to calm the Catter threatening the life of their fellow council member.

  “Now you know.” Tar’libon flicked his wrist, snapping the Nordic Councilman’s neck.

  The dead body fell to the floor with Tar’libon staring at the Nordics still alive while they stared at the newly deceased.

  “I am King Tar’libon S-dahl of the Ka’traxis Brood. I have reigned on my planet since I wrested control of it from my father. The Queen answers solely to me. A role the rest of you now play.”

  The Nordics looked up at the very different demeanor of the King. The polite yet threatening air that had existed just after the Council guards had been so quickly dispatched had been replaced by a stern viciousness.

  The Nordic Council dropped to their knees, pleading with the King to spare them.

  “We are sorry,” one of them said. “Please accept our humble apologies. Our ignorance of you sovereignty—”

  “Cease!” Tar’libon yelled. “I need only one thing from you. And it is not your groveling.”

  “Of course, sire. How can we help? What is it you need?”

  “You and the lives of your people will be spared. But only if you give me your ultimate weapon.”

  The council members glanced nervously at each other. Each of them were frightened about the King’s demand but even more-so at their inability to meet it.

  Tar’libon snarled. “Give me the Slagschip.”

  Two

  The New Merger

  James Irons hung his head. The few nano machines that were still in operation weren’t sufficient to keep his vitals running. And even those were quickly dropping off. The fight with Haddron had taken its toll just as Sitasha had warned.

  “Boss!” Durham rushed to the Captain’s chair and kneeled down. “We’re not really gonna help this guy, are we?”

  “No choice,” Irons said through labored breaths.

  Syracuse Hill marched to Haddron and looked up, staring the taller Nordic dead in the eye.“You want our help you after you put him through that?”

  “Your Captain made his own choice when he attacked me.” Haddron was unfazed by the threatening stare of the XO.

  “We wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t—”

  “Commander!” Mona shouted. “This is neither the time or the place. James needs medical attention, now! I don’t like this situation any more than you do but if what Haddron says is correct, there is a much greater problem out there than revenge.”

  Hannah looked up from her console. “He needs more than medical attention, Admiral.”

  “What do you mean?” Lindsay rushed to Hannah’s console.

  “These are only surface scans but if they’re right…” Hannah swallowed. “Admiral, he’s dying.”

  All eyes, including Haddron’s, turned to Irons whose head barely moved to acknowledge the information.

  “The new injuries must be too much for him,” Sitasha started. “And with the nanites failing, so is his body.”

  Fueled by anger, Lou Trevern struggled to his feet and lunged for Haddron. “If you’ve killed him!”

  Syracuse spun around and held both hands out. “At ease, Lieutenant!” He hoped his words would be enough to halt the lumbering giant as he was certain his arms would not be able to stop the full force of a man as big as Lou. Especially not when he was running at them.

  Lou stumbled to a halt a mere three feet from tackling the Commander and Haddron. “But, sir, he—”

  “No buts,” Syracuse said, ending the matter.

  “No time,” Irons barely whispered.

  “What’s that, Boss?” Durham got closer.

  “No time.” Irons mustered what strength he could to get a full whisper out.

  Durham stood, facing Haddron. “You did this. You want our help? You help him first.”

  “My planet is in immediate danger with yours at the door of the same and you make demands? For the life of one?”

  Durham kept his eyes on Haddron, saying nothing more. The Nordic turned to each member of the Lucky Liberty, noting the same stare from the rest. If his planet was to be saved, James Irons would need saving first.

  “It would be a simple act for you, Haddron,” Sitasha said.

  “You’d be doing yourself a favor in the eyes of everyone here.” Syracuse’s tone was stern but polite. “If you’ve got something. More nano machines or—”

  “I have something better. But…”

  “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with the consequences of it later,” Lindsay said.

  Haddron turned to Admiral Collins, his recent prisoner and part of his quest for revenge. She was no longer in his Brig. No longer his prisoner. But he could very well change all of that, continuing his plans. However, this was no longer about vengeance. These humans had nearly proven themselves his betters. Such a feat, in his eyes, demanded respect. And more, he needed them. His very presence on the smoking Lucky Liberty, nearly obliterated under the power of the Slagschip, was proof he could not save his people without their help. This was no time for pride or regret.

  “You will fully comprehend your words when this is over.” Haddron pressed the lens on his teleporter and was gone in a flash of white.

  “That dirty—”

  “He will return, Commander.” Sitasha tried to calm him.

  “How can you know that?” Mona asked.

  “Haddron is prideful. His very act of asking for your help is his going against his own nature. But he is also honorable. And so he will return.”

  “Where did he go?” Durham asked.

  “There is one item on the Slagschip that will help
the Captain. Haddron goes to save his life.”

  * * *

  Naura knelt down on the bridge of the Slagschip, shaking Jammin, attempting to wake him from the knock out Irons had given the large Nordic. “Jammin, wake up. You must awaken.”

  “And you must be less loud.” Elit shuffled toward her. “I feel like I missed something.”

  “Elit.” Naura jolted to her feet and rushed to the center control console. She input commands and brought up the same distress call from before. “Erra is under siege. The Ka’traxis Brood are attacking our people. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Her last words came under her breath.

  Elit stared at the feed of a fellow Nordic pleading for assistance while the invading Ka’traxis attacked the people of Erra behind him. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’re up here, then isn’t it?”

  Naura spun around. “How can you say that?”

  “It’s simple.” Jammin eased himself to his feet. “It’s of little consequence to him.”

  Elit merely shrugged his shoulders, making no excuse for himself.

  “Where is the human?” Jammin asked, glancing around the bridge.

  Naura averted her eyes from the larger Nordic. It was a clear indicator of secrecy.

  “Naura,” Jammin demanded. “Where is Irons?”

  “For that matter,” Elit said as he scanned the room. “Where is Haddron?”

  Naura looked at them, uneasy. She was unsure she should divulge Haddron’s asking their enemy for assistance. Regardless of the reason why.

  A white strobe filled the room and was gone in an instant, replaced by Haddron who was already on the move.

  “Where were you?” Jammin asked.

  “With the humans,” Haddron told him, flatly, not wanting to discuss the complexities of why.

  Elit smiled. “Gutted the rest of them, eh?”

  “We are siding with them,” Haddron said.

  His words gave everyone a reason to halt all activity. Even Naura was taken aback by them. She knew of Haddron’s pleas for help from Irons but to hear him speak words of allegiance to the humans— worse, to hear him involve the rest of them without a say or a vote, against their own desires, was shocking.