Broken Worlds (The Alorian Wars Book 1)

by Avera,Drew

  BROKEN

  WORLDS

  BOOK ONE OF THE ALORIAN WARS

  DREW AVERA

  Copyright © 2016 Drew Avera

  www.drewavera.wordpress.com

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:

  978-1535377560

  ISBN-10:

  1535377569

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Often a story is formed with no real thought about the back story. That was the case with a short story called “Replicade”. My editor read the story and was intrigued enough to ask for more. I could have expanded that short story into a much longer tome, but the real story begins earlier in the lives of those characters. That story is found in these pages you are about to read.

  I would like to thank my editor, Deanne, for prompting me to write The Alorian Wars series of books. It was her suggestion that prompted the growth of a five-thousand word story into a much larger series. That seed of suggestion may have brought this series to life, but the sustainment of the initial writing process was largely motivated by the book’s first reader, Melvan. He took the burden of watching this novel come to life and he did so with as much enthusiasm as I had writing it. Thank you both for the inspiration and the motivation.

  I would also like to thank the many authors who mentored me with their words and their actions. I come from a community of like-minded heroes who have driven me beyond my initial expectations as a writer. Outside of my family, you are some of my favorite people in this world.

  Chapter 1: Anki

  Each step drew her closer to war, but it was better than waiting for death to kiss her lips and take her breath away with the fiery exhale of a Greshian war vessel. Anki grew up under a regime of fear, not of her own society, but the one coming for them. A childhood wrought from propaganda and secondhand hate formed the woman she would become, but Anki thought of it as strength forged over years of vilifying the Greshian populace. She had never met one of their kind before. The only images she had seen were constructed from pieces of newsfeeds spread across the Alorian stars. Muddled and grainy, those images showed a ghostly flesh-bound entity with seemingly god-like power. Physically, the Greshians did not appear to be much different than her people, but the seeds of contempt painted them as devils nonetheless. Was she prepared to stand face-to-face with the killers of worlds? It was what she yearned for, to stop the enemy in his tracks and proclaim herself the hero. It was not a romanticized notion of bravery that led her to enlist, but the realistic threat of annihilation that made her want to ship out on the next vessel towards the other side of the Alorian Galaxy and give her life to protect Luthia if necessary. Anki was not naïve enough to romanticize death, but she did not fear it either. As the old idiom went, it was what it was.

  The moon started to set over Port Carreo, the largest naval port on Luthia. The area was surrounded by water, with giant pillars reaching towards the sky where the ships mated with Luthia to transfer goods without needing to enter the atmosphere. Where the pillars ended was an optical illusion, but Anki often wondered what it would be like to stand on the umbilical and look down upon the world she had never stepped foot off of. It was a dream of hers to take off and look out at Luthia as it grew smaller, less significant to the naked eye than it was when her feet were planted firmly on the ground. But the appeal of seeing the beautiful sphere of her world against a black canvas dotted with stars was pale in comparison to the reason she would ultimately leave her world behind. There was little doubt that she could behold beauty with a war going on, so she buried that desire deep inside and fought the urge to think about it again.

  The political climate was evolving every day, and the latest news from the front lines sent a chill down Anki’s spine. The video feed portrayed a world afire, one so far off in the distance that its burn could not be registered without the aid of telescopes and graphic generators despite the perpetual night this time of year on Luthia. Still, there was a sense of doubt that such horrors could be displayed, even for the misdeeds of the hellish pale demons of the Greshian Empire. Luthia had been on the fence about standing up to the Greshians in the beginning, but doing nothing eventually led to choosing sides and with the loss of so many worlds during the Alorian Wars, it was only a matter of time before Luthia felt the burn of indecision.

  Sweat poured from Anki’s black hair as she continued her run, her heart beating in her chest hard enough to cause her ears to ring, but she still had several meters to go before she finished her training for the day. She couldn’t afford to be seen as weak, not with her job in the Luthian Navy. Professional killers were as numerous as the stars, but ones with her specialty were a much rarer gem. Luthia had invested in a living weapon, training Anki to take the fight to Greshia or some outlying system, to end the massacre before it spread across the rest of the Alorian Galaxy. It was take the fight to them or worse, having the war in the Luthian system, threatening the lives of every soul on their solitary world. Even with all of her training nothing was guaranteed. If she had any hope for deployment, then she needed to be at the top of her game. War was coming one way or another, but Anki wanted to meet it halfway. The thought tended to bring a smile to her face.

  A smaller version of her com-unit, a black and silver band strapped around her wrist, chirped to let her know she had an incoming message. Without breaking stride, she accepted the message swiping her finger across the acrylic glass and a holographic image of her superior, Sergeant Mallara, greeted her. “Good evening, Sergeant Anki Paro. You are receiving this message to let you know there will be a briefing in the morning and your presence is required. Please arrive with a travel bag in hand.” The message ended abruptly and Anki suddenly realized she had stopped running and instead was standing on the track panting for air. She didn’t know if it was nerves about her potential deployment, or if her attention span didn’t allow for physical exertion and life-changing news to be processed simultaneously. It was frustrating either way and she silently chided herself for relenting with the exercise regardless of how brief it had been.

  She closed the connection on her com-unit before the message started playing again. This was the fourth mandatory briefing in as many weeks and each time she thought she would be sent out on a vessel to put her skill set to proper use. Each of those times she was sent back to her dorm, disappointed. Still, it stood to reason that eventually she would get the call she had been waiting on ever since she arrived at Port Carreo. A girl could hope, at least.

  Anki started running again, this time with a second wind and thoughts about what it might mean to finally deploy. Her thoughts drifted to her father, the only member of her family still talking to her. She knew that the stress of her joining the Luthian Navy was a burden threatening to send him to an early grave. But she also knew he was proud of her and knew what she was capable of. It was the Paro blood in her veins that made her compete so aggressively with herself, and others. If he was honest, her father knew it was his fault that she took after him. It was a bond that could never break. No matter how far out in the Alorian Galaxy she might find herself.

  The moon crept up the sky and a chill formed around her. There was a storm brewing and the cold front was pushing it inland. If she was lucky she would have time to get inside before the rain began to fall. Anki ran another five steps before the first drop touched the top of her head. That single drop was followed by a torrential downpour. If the weather was any indication, then luck wasn’t in the cards for her anytime soon.

  Anki opened the door to her dorm. It was one step above a barracks room and about twelve steps below what she grew up living in, but it was hers; at least for the time being. She was greeted by the usual AI voice,
“Welcome home, Anki. I have maintained the room’s temperature to your preferred setting. You have arrived before your schedule usually dictates. Would you like to receive a cold beverage before your shower?”

  The question accompanied the sound of her soaking wet shirt hitting the floor with a moist thud.

  “Not yet. Please set the shower to coolness two,” she instructed. She enjoyed voice activated living quarters and preset settings for her day-to-day activities. She knew this type of living wasn’t going to last once she finally shipped out, but as far as she was concerned she could at least enjoy it while it lasted.

  The cold water trickled down her body, slightly warming as it filtered through her hair and down her back. Most people enjoyed hot showers to help loosen the tightness in their muscles, but Anki had always been slightly left of the common crowd. Cold showers also helped regulate how much water was used. It kept her honest when it came to conserving water, whereas hot water was far too comfortable to step out of at times. Of course, it could all be in her head and she would spend the same amount of time in the shower regardless, but some truths were just lies you finally convinced yourself of.

  Anki stepped out of the shower and into the common space wrapped in a towel. The news feed on her media screen showed more propaganda, more images of Greshian terror inflicted on worlds she otherwise would not have known existed. She was sure whatever world was engulfed in the flames of war had once been as peaceful as Luthia before the great expansion of the Alorian Galaxy. She hadn’t even been born the first time another species revealed itself to her world. Hell, her father, who was born at the time, was too young to remember it, but at least he had been alive for it. Now it seemed that what once seemed like the next step in evolution was devolution as everything burned down around them. This was why she joined the Luthian Navy, to preserve a peace that might otherwise never exist.

  She turned up the volume to listen to one of the reporters speak, “…unnecessary violence. Why should we cower before an empire we do not recognize as our authority? Luthia has a rich history of rising above conflicts and rebuilding our society much stronger than it was before. I believe the militarization of our Navy is only the first step at preserving our way of life. If it were up to me, I would militarize our entire society. We dare not allow a Greshian vessel to land on our terra without destroying it!”

  It wasn’t a reporter speaking after all, she noticed, once the image moved away from the reporter. The man on the screen was wearing an armband that signified his support for the Luthian Survival Campaign. It was a fringe organization that had a religious affinity for war in the name of freedom. Though Anki didn’t consider herself to side with any kinds of organizations outside the military, she could at least admire the conviction in the man’s words. She found herself nodding her agreement without realizing it.

  The newsfeed blacked out as the power failed on Port Carreo. Anki took a deep breath and waited for the alarm to sound. The staccato blast of a claxon met her expectation and without hesitation she left the comfort of her dorm for the relative danger of the incoming attack. Her weapon, perched near the door, accepted her embrace. Through clenched fingers she would rain violence on whatever was coming their way. This moment of anticipation and focus was a reflex of rigorous training, habitual movements predetermined and committed to muscle memory. This was why she had enlisted, to defend Luthia with her life if necessary, but the plan was to make her enemies die first. Deep inside, she knew the claxon sounding was most likely a drill, something to keep the blood pumping to match the horrors scrolling across the feeds as Greshia burned another world into nothing more than scorched pebbles drifting lifeless in the dark. Keeping the fires of patriotism burning made sense to Anki, it was familiar and exhilarating without the threat of actual death. But for a disconcerting moment she wished for something more, for a real fight, anything to let her stretch her legs in a real battle. The thrill of war− the pestilence of civilization− called her name and she wished to answer it with as much enthusiasm as she could muster… more if necessary.

  She found herself under the naked sky. Twilight lingered with moments of static scorching the atmosphere as more men and women like her huddled behind cover, some armored and some not, but all armed for incoming. The sky bled electric light as another flash burned her eyes, blinding as quickly as it disappeared. It was another drill, but it felt different, and that difference was alarming. Something triggered in Anki’s mind and her perspective changed. Gone were the parameters of a known enemy. This was a different training tactic, this time the enemy was already at the door, but they weren’t waiting to be let in because it was too late. Luthia had failed to hold the door and now the sky was charged, primed to burn and to destroy. It was only a training exercise, but it felt like a dress rehearsal for something she wasn’t quite ready for.

  Death’s kiss.

  Chapter 2: Brendle

  Somewhere amongst the stars a predator drifted silently. Within its body were rumors of escalating war, nurturing a hatred bred across generations. Perhaps it was always like this, or maybe it was never like this, but history had a way of lying about itself in order to serve the agenda of those writing it into existence. The chapter on galactic domination was in an early draft, but that didn’t stop the Greshians from dipping their pens into the ink of empirical governance. History’s chosen children always had a longer tether from their parents, pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable. Why should it be any different when those children turned on their siblings and crushed them underfoot? Perhaps the parents were neglectful, or dead, the burden of their children befalling a much crueler fate. Or maybe the gods laughed at mortality as it blinked in and out of existence, this gentle turn around the universe no more exceptional than the infinite turns before it. Life was, after all, temporary.

  On the Telran business was as usual. She scouted, seeking prey to devour. Her inhabitants, an arsenal of eagerly bared teeth, sharp and thirsty for blood, listened to the daily pontification of their captain, his voice calmly restraining an enthusiasm which would nauseate anyone who craved peace during such a hellish war. This was what the Greshians were known for, their infamy a reward for the devastating attacks on Alorian worlds who refused to assimilate into an empire aroused with the lust for power. If infamy was the reward, then the glean of destruction was the tally mark of consistent diplomacy. Worlds burned while others fearfully bowed before Greshian ships silhouetted against the starry backsplash of the Alorian Galaxy. Morale was measured by conquest and many onboard the Telran celebrated the sacrificing of worlds more than the gaining of territory. Their hearts were mended by chaos. Even the ones who wanted to refrain from such an existence learned that compliance numbed them to reality and eventually killing came as easily as breathing. Not everyone onboard believed in the cause, but belief was subjective, changing as easily as the wind in the mountain ranges of Greshia. Silence was compliance. It was good enough to pass for patriotism.

  “Good evening, Telran, this is the captain speaking. It has been brought to my attention that enemy forces have been spotted trying to avoid detection through the scattered debris field of the planet Keshnara. Our intelligence tells us it is a very risky decision on their part to attempt to traverse this area of space. The largest risk was moving close enough to our ship to be detected. We are sending a scout ship out to survey the area and we will embark towards their relative location and annihilate them.”

  “All right, sounds like we have some work to do. What do you think about that, Brendle?” Arender said from his console behind Brendle. The man was a new addition to the Telran who quickly found his place in Combat Control. Just like any other newbie, his enthusiasm flowed from his ears despite having no idea how the real world actually worked. To him, the targets were not people, but something intangible. Targets were quantitative and qualitative wickets for anyone keeping count of who was winning the war. There was no such thing as personal casualty, just the elimination of a potential threa
t, potential being the operative word.

  “I suppose the Captain will have us hard-burn into that direction shortly,” Brendle said, his voice flat. He fought the urge to say what was really on his mind, that it was a killing spree that the captain was using in hopes of being promoted. Captain Elastra was next in line for a joint staff position and was willing to put his crew through anything to ensure that position went to him. It was politics of the worst kind.

  Arender turned to look at his shipmate, hearing the lack of enthusiasm in Brendle’s voice. “Try not to be bummed about it. This is the whole reason we’re here in the first place. To kill the bad guys.” He nudged Brendle’s shoulder with a light tap. “Besides, what would you be doing back on Greshia anyway? Most people our age are working dead end jobs. Very few of them have any kind of measurable success. We are doing the work of the gods, planting ourselves on other worlds to expand the Greshian Empire. I bet to some of these worlds we look like gods.” He laughed as the joke lingered uncomfortably in the air. Arender didn’t mean anything by the statement other than to make Brendle feel better, but to Brendle it struck a raw nerve. He knew it was only because of the culture all Greshians grew up in. You were for Greshia or against her.

  “I know. I was just hoping this would be a short hop to the next station. I guess I have a lot on my mind,” Brendle said. He ran his hand through his brown hair and pulled it away with the feeling of sweat between his fingers. He wiped it away on his pants and looked at Arender. “I’m feeling a little homesick is all,” he said.

  Arender leaned forward and placed a friendly hand on Brendle’s leg, the warmth of it making Brendle a little uncomfortable. “If you’d like to talk about it, I’m always here.” There was an innuendo hidden behind the look that followed, but it was innocent enough to not rub Brendle the wrong way. Arender’s deep green eyes were locked onto Brendle’s own in an intense gaze, almost hungry. Brendle could only imagine what thoughts were pouring over his mind, but he wasn’t interested in the kind of companionship Arender was offering. For some, the yearning for companionship battled one’s ability to maintain a sense of sanity. For Brendle, he knew there was nothing to gain in empty relationships. There was the hope for something better once the Telran got back to Greshia. But he couldn’t help but wonder if he could hold out that long. Sometimes the days felt like an eternity and he wasn’t getting any younger.