The Corsair Uprising Collection, Books 1-3

by Trevor Schmidt

  “What end?”

  Liam hesitated before finally relenting.

  “The revolution,” he whispered.

  Elder Bartle backed the blade off a few centimeters, considering the human’s words.

  “I thought you weren’t on a side.”

  “The Ansarans have no interest in letting us return to our system and the Kraven are out to kill us.”

  “Why not fight with the Dinari?”

  “And waste this opportunity?” Liam asked incredulously.

  Elder Bartle backed away ever farther and asked, “What opportunity?”

  “Until we choose a side my crew and I are seen as neutral parties, a situation that evades any Dinari.”

  The aging Dinari nodded and returned his knife to its sheath at his belt.

  “You said you want to get home. How long before the Ansarans or the Kraven use one of The Three to reach your system?”

  “Do you mean The Azure Key?”

  “The device that brought you here is only the beginning. There are stories, too young to be legends but potent nevertheless. The strange powers held within The Three are known only to a few. If you survive your ordeal and earn my trust, you just might learn a thing or two. Until then, rest. This night may well be your last.”

  27

  Saturn put her shoulder into the back entrance of The Sand’s Edge bar, forcing her way through the door and fighting the squall. The rough wooden door slammed against clay wall on the other side and she had to struggle once again to close it behind her. For a moment she rested her back against the door, heaving and removing the beige wrappings that covered her face and letting them drop to the floor.

  Her favor was complete, regardless of the outcome, and now she had more important things to do. She thought of Liam, fighting the Phage with all of his strength. Saturn couldn’t imagine dying in such a way. Martian women were a hearty breed. They had to be. Even after years of Terraforming efforts, the planet was not much more hospitable to human life than it was before. It would take centuries to complete the process. Her people had created a culture over the first few generations that valued grit above all else. She didn’t want to believe that some sickness was powerful enough to take Liam out. Even if he wasn’t a Martian, he’d held his own pretty well so far.

  Saturn remembered Sestra and her vow to the council. Maybe she was part Martian too, she mused. The Dinari had left quickly after the meeting. She’d left her shop unprotected and sandstorms brought out the worst in people, regardless of species. Saturn couldn’t really blame her. Martians also protected what was theirs.

  Saturn made her way into the main part of the bar. Elder Bartle was sitting gingerly on a roughly carved chair at the center of the room, only a few globes hovering near the ceiling to light the entire bar area. He bore a contemplative expression on his broken leather face.

  When he saw her approaching, the elder asked kindly, “How fares the council?”

  “Are they always so crass?”

  Elder Bartle let out a small chortle. She was glad someone else saw it too, and a man at that. Saturn had seen a lot of places in the galaxy and met a lot of people, but few were as unevolved.

  The elder smiled and said with a nod, “Always.”

  Saturn came around the table and placed her hands on the back of a nearby chair. She liked Elder Bartle. He was one of those old men who might have gotten away with saying just about anything. Still, it seemed that he would hardly get on the bad side of anybody.

  The elder fiddled with a squat blade, smearing a subtle yellow mash onto a piece of bread. He had the faintest smile as he brought it up to his mouth and took a bite. A distant smell filled her nostrils. She got the sense that the mash was somehow medicinal as even the understated odor made her scrunch her nose.

  “How’s Liam?”

  Elder Bartle finished chewing and turned serious, placing the rest of his bread on the table.

  “We’ll know more by morning. He’s resting now. Please don’t disturb him, sleep may be his best chance.”

  Saturn nodded, feeling herself deflate a little. She hated situations she couldn’t control. Her gaze shifted to the edge of the bar, where a bottle of golden liquid rested. She turned back to the elder.

  “Drink?”

  Elder Bartle nodded. “Given the circumstances, a drink seems appropriate.”

  Saturn reached behind the bar for two short glasses and snatched the bottle. She returned to the elder’s table and poured a small amount in each glass, sliding one to the old Dinari and taking the seat across from him. Elder Bartle raised the glass up to his mouth and took a sip, wincing at the taste.

  “Tell me, did Zega get his way?”

  “No,” Saturn said with the hint of a smile. “With the abundance of sand around they found it hard to keep from burying their heads in it. They don’t believe the Phage is back.”

  “I see. Do you believe that will stop Zega?”

  Saturn sipped at her drink, feeling the liquid burn as it descended to her empty stomach. She hadn’t considered that. When had she known Zega to let something like this stop him?

  “What do you mean? You think Zega would act regardless of their ruling?”

  Elder Bartle took another hesitant sip of the liquid and nodded grimly.

  “Don’t underestimate him, or the will of the Dinari for that matter. You need only look at what Nix has just accomplished to see.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The spire, did you see it?”

  Which one was a better question, Saturn thought. There were dozens in the colony. Had something happened to one of them?

  “I couldn’t see more than ten meters in front of me outside. What’s happened?”

  “The generator is dead. A spire has fallen. When the dust settles and the storm has passed we will see what this means for the Dinari.”

  Saturn thought a moment. The generator. Did the elder mean the source of that purple energy that sometimes encased the colony? Saturn remembered that the Dinari couldn’t bear to be outside when it was active. If it was destroyed, then…

  “It’s a signal.”

  Elder Bartle smiled.

  “The Dinari will rise, Saturn. Do you know which side you’ll be on when they do?”

  Saturn thought a moment. She used to think she would do anything for a fast ship and enough credits to last her several lifetimes over. Now, she couldn’t imagine being without her crew. Without Liam.

  “I am on Liam’s side, always.”

  The elder closed his bulbous eyes and nodded. He seemed pleased with her answer, as if that was all he needed to know.

  28

  Elder Vurn hushed the other twenty-two present council members, who’d begun branching off into their own conversations. The raging storm blew gusts of sand through the long corridor to the great chamber. The cavern seemed to suck the grains through the tunnels, but the sand still wouldn’t be able to reach them atop the elevated platform. Regardless, a storm that powerful hadn’t hit the colony directly in decades. That had the elder worried.

  “Silence,” Elder Vurn commanded. “We need to focus our attention on the matter of Council Member Zega. He has already demonstrated a lack of respect for the other elders and deems his own pursuits more important than the collective whole. What is to be done with him?”

  Elder Rane was looking paler than ever, his thick cloak masking what was surely a pile of ribs underneath. The elder was once far more prominent, but in his old age had become almost too frail to function. Sometimes he seemed lucid enough, but others it was clear just how much his mind was slipping. Still, it wouldn’t do well for the colony to know of his condition. He raised a single claw into the air and said, “The Phage is no more!”

  Elder Vurn shook his head and said wearily, “That matter is settled Elder Rane. Would anyone else care to speak?”

  Elder Loren nodded his head. He was one of the younger members of the council, well past middle age but with many goo
d years left in him. Elder Loren spoke with conviction, “It pains me to render such a judgment on any member of the council, let alone one not present. But what choice do we have? I move that Zega be removed from this council immediately.”

  “Seconded,” Elder Jul agreed. “We can’t have this kind of blatant corruption from within the council. Our authority will be questioned if we are not united in this.”

  Heads nodded and aged voices mumbled their affirmations down the length of the long stone table. Elder Vurn wanted to smile but repressed the urge. He had to maintain his professionalism. He’d longed for the day when Zega would no longer be among their ranks. His election was a farce from the start. Citizens strong-armed into seeing things Zega’s way. He was a despicable man, with no respect for the laws that the council was sworn to uphold. This day would long be remembered.

  “I call for a vote,” Elder Vurn announced. “Will this council remove Zega as the emissary from Sector Seven?”

  Every hand raised into the air. After each elder had cast their vote, Elder Vurn raised his hand as well. “Let it be recorded in the tomes of our people that Zega is no longer a part of this council. From this day forth he is stripped of all titles and privileges—”

  Elder Vurn stopped. To his left a flashing silver disc attached itself to the stone table, clamping down mechanically. He turned to his right and another disc dropped down from somewhere behind them, its small red and green lights flashing like jittering bugs in the Garuda night.

  Elder Rane stood, reaching forward to touch the disc.

  “Stop!” Elder Vurn cried out.

  He was too late. The discs exploded in quick succession, sending the bodies of the aging Dinari elders flying in all directions. Elder Vurn was thrust into a large pillar, where he slid down, losing control of his feet. He heard laser blasts ring out in the echoing chamber. The bright blue light rushed past him and crumbled any surface it touched.

  Elder Vurn’s back must have been broken. He couldn’t move at all. His already frail body was rent. The flashing blue lights reminded him of the dark times following the Long War. The Ansarans had forced him and his family into servitude, whipping him until he relented any modicum of dignity. He could still remember the piercing cracks and feel the slashes across his back, always seeming to find their way between his soft, youthful scales. But the pain was only a memory. Elder Vurn found himself wishing he could feel something, anything. Even the snaps of the Ansaran whips. He was not ready to die.

  The laser blasts ceased. Would the Ansarans be this brash? They’d allowed the Dinari their fiat council for years. No, that wasn’t possible. Elder Vurn’s eyes began to blur, the cavern going in and out of focus. A single figure came around the pillar. He placed his armored boot on the chest of Elder Hale and squeezed the trigger of his weapon, blasting him between the eyes mercilessly. The man’s presence was chilling. Elder Vurn had never felt anything so cold in all of his years.

  The man in the blue armor turned his attention to Elder Vurn. His boots clinked and clanked as he closed the distance. The elder couldn’t see the eyes behind the black visor of the man’s oblong helmet. The armor was reminiscent of that worn by the Ansarans, but the plates were too small. When he drew closer, the elder could see the imprint of countless scales in the metal. The small gaps between plates were filled with a dark cloth that clung to his skin. The cruel man leveled his weapon at Elder Vern’s chest.

  “W-why?” Elder Vurn managed to breathe out despite his broken and frail body.

  The mercenary remained silent. He squeezed the trigger and the blue laser pierced Elder Vurn’s chest. For a moment he felt a searing heat radiating out to the rest of his body, and then nothing. His eyes began to unfocus. The great cavern started to dim until all he could see was the outline of the man. The wicked aura of his killer.

  29

  Liam stood on the edge of a precipice, looking down over the side of the clay building to the street several stories below. The setting Garuda sun was blinding with its radiating reds and oranges. Breathlessly, he turned around to face his pursuer. The man in the blue scaled armor held his laser pistol aloft. Liam looked back over the edge. It was only three or four stories. The sand was loose. He might be able to make the leap.

  “This is the end,” the man’s dark voice rasped metallically.

  Sand wisped by, carried along with the breeze. Liam faced the man and brushed his long blond hair out of the way, blocking out the bright rays of light. The mercenary’s visor negated any chance of making out his face. Liam didn’t trust what he couldn’t see.

  “Only a coward would hide their face from the man they’re about to kill.”

  The man in blue stepped forward at a leisurely pace. He was in no hurry to deliver the final blow. With his free hand, the mercenary pulled off his helmet. Liam’s eyes widened. He wasn’t a man at all. Her fine black hair fell gracefully down over her shoulders. Cybernetic implants ran the length of her cheek and a slight glow emanated from behind her circuit-laden eyes. Her thin face and feminine features would have been irresistible if not for the machinery that corrupted her.

  “That’s not possible,” Liam muttered. “You’re on the other side of the galaxy.”

  “I never lose a mark.”

  She fired her laser pistol, its blue beam piercing Liam’s chest and burning outward. Liam gasped, unable to scream. There, walking toward him with a look of satisfaction, was Takara, former Yakuza and lead enforcer of Vesta Corporation. Liam felt the white-hot pain build until he was unable to move his limbs. He collapsed to his knees, clawing at the singed material over his chest uselessly. The burning sensation faded to cold and he found his eyelids drooping. The rooftop began to approach his face. Finally, darkness. Release.

  •

  A sudden noise made Saturn jump. A ray of light pierced the open window and beat down on her, making her squint and use her hand to block it. Particles of dust made it difficult to focus on much else. She must have fallen asleep in Liam’s chambers. The plastic sheet reflected the bright light making it difficult to see beyond. Still, she definitely saw movement behind it.

  “Liam?”

  She pushed up the clay wall, coming to her feet. Saturn kept her hand on the cold surface for balance as she approached the bloodied sheet. Liam’s dark shape rustled there, spasms sending his back up in an arch until he was sitting up and gasping for air, mumbling something under his breath.

  “Liam!” Saturn screamed, moving toward the break in the sheet, ready to expose herself and rush to his side.

  “No!” a voice ordered.

  She turned to see Nix with his hand held up in warning. He wore tactical brown garments that clung to his scaled body and an expression that was equal parts fear and desperation. Nix must have returned during the night, but she hadn’t heard him come in.

  “We have to help him,” Saturn pleaded.

  “Elder Bartle is downstairs. Wait here and don’t go beyond the veil.”

  Nix made for the door but the elder pushed through before he could reach it. His ragged cloak was stained with a dark liquid that smelled suspiciously of Leguma, one of Nix’s specialties which tasted like curry and feet.

  “By the sound of it, it’s time,” Elder Bartle wheezed, coughing into the crook of his arm.

  Liam scratched at his Death Shroud and brushed a coat of sand off his body. He was fidgety, as though he’d been asleep for decades and upon waking up yearned to run a marathon.

  “Nix,” the elder continued, “Find Riken and begin preparations for The Purge.”

  Nix nodded and brushed past the elderly Dinari. Saturn could hear him as he ran down the stairs and yelled Riken’s name. She crossed her arms, hugging her chest. She didn’t like the sound of what was about to happen. The Dinari had a way of going to extremes.

  “What’s The Purge?”

  Saturn examined the elder’s countenance and found concern in the many lines of his face. The old Dinari ambled closer to the sheet and looked down on
Liam. He might have been happy or perhaps filled with pity. However, his face didn’t betray any inkling as to his true feelings. It was as though Liam’s life either was or wasn’t, and it didn’t much matter to him which. A strange demeanor for a healer.

  Elder Bartle’s glazed eyes found hers and he remarked casually, “His body must be cleansed before he is allowed to rejoin the ranks of the living.”

  30

  Laser blasts rocked the streets, explosions ringing out in every sector of Garuda Colony. Nix bolted shut the door to The Sand’s Edge bar. He motioned his hand toward the ceiling and two of the three glowing orbs floated toward him as though summoned by an unseen force. Nix plucked them out of the air and walked toward the bar. Sometimes he had to marvel at the tiny creatures inside. Their natural glow could be blinding at times. Nix hid them out of sight behind the bar, dimming the light in the room even though he doubted many Dinari would dare bring their gripes to The Sand’s Edge.

  The faintly lit room was beginning to grow crowded. Saturn sat at a small table with the freshly washed Liam. They were sitting close, Saturn’s hands never leaving him for an instant. She was fussing over the grains of sand that could not be washed out of his long hair. Living in the desert, Nix was glad he didn’t have to deal with those kinds of problems.

  Astrid and Ju-long occupied the adjacent table along with Elder Bartle. Three species sitting at the same table and not trying to kill each other. That was a sight Nix never thought he’d see in his time. Though he might not have fully trusted Astrid, he recognized that he was in the minority. She’d had plenty of chances to turn on them and hadn’t done so yet. The way she and Ju-Long got along, Nix doubted if the human would even be capable of casting aside his feelings if she turned. He wasn’t a man Nix wanted to fight.

  Zega too had returned, but had decided to hide out in the cellar once the explosions began. Nix wasn’t particularly surprised. Zega’s power relied on hundreds of mercenaries, spies, and informants. He would never get his hands dirty intentionally. The coward had contingencies in place for everything. It was rumored that if he were killed, his murderer would be followed to the ends of the galaxy. They would be broken until they spilled the name of every loved one and every family member or descendent. Not only would they die, it would be like they never existed at all. Of course, Nix thought, it would be hard for Zega to enforce his will from beyond the grave.