by Trevor Wyatt
Table of Contents
Title Page
Description
Dedication
Explore the Pax Aeterna Universe
Connect with Trevor on Facebook
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
The Pax Aeterna Universe
Encyclopedia Aeterna Volume 1
Timeline of the Terran Union
Terran Union
Terran Armada
Encyclopedia Aeterna Volume 2
Political Maps of the Orion Cluster of the Milky Way Galaxy
Timeline of the Earth-Sonali War
Sonali Combine
Sonali Caste System
Tyreesian Collective
Reznak Empire
Irivani Hegemony
Seyshallian Nation
Children of Zorm
Kurta Colonies
Drupadi Regime
About The Author
Sacrifice of Angels
Call of Anguish Series Book 1
By Trevor Wyatt
Copyright 2017 by Pax Aeterna Press
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.
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Description
Dedication
To Cheryl.
Explore the Pax Aeterna Universe
The Seeker by Trevor Wyatt
The Omarian Gambit by Trevor Wyatt
Homefront by Trevor Wyatt
High Crimes by Trevor Wyatt
Tales From The Sonali War: Year 1 of 5 by Trevor Wyatt
Phantom by Trevor Wyatt
The Mariner by Simone Le Rouge
Connect with Trevor on Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/trevor.wyatt.3154
Chapter 1
Space.
It was dark. It was cold. It was unwelcoming. Nevertheless, like a pack of swarming, infective insects, humans had spread across it. Thrived across it. Conquered it. Tamed it.
From the smallest moon to the largest planet, the Terran Union grew more powerful with each passing year. They took amazing strides in weaponry, capacity, size and FTL travel. Where other races would have not even bothered to colonize the planet because of its inhospitable nature, humanity perfected terraforming technology – and began to harness the natural environment of the planet in its favor. And as the case was, every time there was a new addition to Terran Armada ships, the TUS Seeker was on the front line of every major upgrade.
“Full speed ahead,” Jeryl ordered.
“Aye captain,” the navigator replied in a brisk and clipped tone reminiscent of the good old battle days.
Captain Jeryl Montgomery stood in the center of the CNC on the Seeker, the Terran Armada’s flagship vessel. The air was cool, with chatters fluttering through the air like stray wind. Beeps of instrument and blinks of panel lights created an atmosphere of controlled chaos.
The view screen was the largest thing in the CNC, taking up most of the forward aspect of it. It wasn’t a perfect rectangle as it was a little curved on the edges, and it flashed the deep and lifeless void of space. It surrounded the crew as they barreled and pierced through atoms, displacing quark matter and nothingness at maximum sub light drive.
The sight never ceased to amaze Jeryl. The vastness of it. The sheer notion that such space could exist. Less than two hundred years ago, humanity was still clearing up from the rubble of the Third World War. Living in conditions that could only be described as barbaric. And now, it was traversing the stars.
Jeryl felt that he was blessed. Blessed to live in a time when he had the stars at his fingertips. A lot of times, being grounded on a particular planet tended to make him forget about the boundless vastness of space. But aboard his ship and sailing to the stars reaffirmed that notion.
In space, Jeryl felt at home.
He couldn’t care less about sitting behind a desk in the Terran Armada Command in New Washington or Terran Armada Command back on Earth. He couldn’t give two shits about becoming an admiral—he already tried that and failed. The reason he joined the Armada was to fly a ship into the bottomless void of space, not to push papers across a desk.
This was where he saw himself. This was where he belonged.
Jeryl might have had bosses that he hadn’t agreed with most of the time—or maybe even all of the time. But he loved his job. As long as he got to captain a ship, all would be fine.
He was the captain of one of the largest and most powerful ships in the Armada, and he had some of the best and most competent crew, a lot of whom he could trust with his life.
Yes, he was fulfilled. Every day, he woke up with Ashley, his wife, in his arms. Every day he stood in the CNC with his first rate crew, making sure they performed their duties with the utmost professionalism and expertise. Every day he gave orders to go explore some phenomenon or go help out some of their neighbors.
Oh, Jeryl was more than just fulfilled—he was satisfied. He could live out the rest of his days in the stars. In fact, it was his dream to die in space and not grounded in some blasted planet, a senile old man who had long forgotten the things that mattered, things that made him feel alive.
“Captain?” a voice said behind him, derailing his train of thoughts.
Jeryl looked over his shoulder and saw a medium-height woman, standing just a few steps behind him. She held a tablet in her hand and a stylus, as though she wanted him to take it.
“What is it, ensign?” Jeryl asked her.
Ensign Tira Avae was undeniably pretty. She had thick black hair, a green, full round shape eyes and thin lips. She wasn’t exactly short, but she was shorter than most. She had curves in all the right places, yet she was thin and trim. She had an athletic build; Jeryl had seen her fight in simulations a couple of times.
“Sir, I need your signature,” she said in her thin and soft voice, one that could put stakes in a man’s heart.
From the corner of his eyes, Jeryl saw Lieutenant Pedro Ferriero, the head of navigations, turning briefly away from his work station to gawk at the young Miss Avae.
“Eyes on the screen, Pedro,” Jeryl commanded, softly and with a hint of humor.
Jeryl watched as the man’s cheeks burned with a bright red color as he turned away. He gripped the ship’s controls a little harder than necessary causing his knuckles to turn white.
Jeryl noticed the look on Tira’s face; it was that of mild interest. Then he looked back at the lieutenant, who had returned his full focus on steering the ship through the endless void before them. He knew right then and there that they were a thing.
Romance between crew mates wasn’t exactly forbidden—sure, there were regulations, but no one was really strict about them. It was impossible to put a couple hundred pe
ople in a tight space for months with no expectations of romantic affairs. Falling in love with your crew mate wasn’t forbidden. Having a relationship with your crew mate wasn’t forbidden. What was forbidden, however, was allowing it to interfere with your job.
If Ferriero and Tira were together, Jeryl was perfectly fine with it—as long as every time Tira strutted into CNC Ferriero didn’t turn away from piloting the ship to glance at her.
Jeryl took the tablet from Tira’s delicate hands and looked at her, a small smile on his lips.
“I didn’t know you two were a thing…”
“No, we’re not, sir,” Tira answered in the same silent voice Jeryl had used.
“Really?” Jeryl probed further, while he scanned through the tablet. It was a purchase order for a list of items that were tagged non-essentials.
“Well, sir, we’ve been going out,” Tira said, her voice thick with tension. “But I wouldn’t exactly say we are together.”
Jeryl appended his signature to the purchase order and handed the tablet back to Tira.
Before she left, he said, “If you and my chief navigator are going out, you have to let me know. I don’t want whatever you guys got going on to get in between the running of this ship.”
Tira nodded a little bit more enthusiastically.
“As you can imagine,” Jeryl continued, “we’re in the CNC. All the positions here are vital to the safety and wellbeing of the ship and its crew. I want my CNC officers fully focused, and that includes Pedro and you.”
“Yes, sir,” Tira said, a hint of red taking over her cheeks.
Jeryl knew he was being hard on Tira. His wife was the First Officer of the ship and she was working with him on the CNC. Still, he and Ashley had been through a lot; they knew how to work together in spite of the burning passion between them—a passion so tense that it frayed at his nerves sometimes.
“You don’t have to break up with him,” Jeryl said, his tone reconciliatory. “Just don’t let it affect your work.”
Tira blushed even more. “Yes, sir.”
An awkward silence stretched for a few seconds before Jeryl gave her a little nod.
“Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tira turned on her heels and retreated to the workstation behind the captain’s chair, the one by the main entrance elevator into the CNC.
“Captain,” said a voice to his backward left.
Jeryl turned to glance at Lieutenant Commander Mary Taylor, who stood before the ship’s main communications work station.
“Go ahead, Ms. Taylor,” he said.
“We’ve just received a distress signal from what appears to be a Sonali vessel,” she said.
“Where is it?” Jeryl said.
Before the chief communications officer could reply, Jeryl issued an order to Pedro.
“Mr. Ferriero, get ready to engage the FTL Factor 5 drives.”
“It’s a quarter of a light year at bearing 331 Mark 2 of our position,” Taylor said a second later.
Jeryl frowned. “Hold on a minute. That puts the ship in…”
He glanced over at the view screen to see a map of the quadrant of space they were currently traversing, imposed upon a grid. There was a small smoky line that went from one edge of the screen; a small miniature ship moved along the edge of the line on one side of the line, hued a sharp green tint. Another miniature ship stood stationary on the other side of the line, bleeping and giving off a pinging sound with each bleep. The side of the line it was on had a reddish tint.
“Tyreesian space,” said Ms. Taylor.
Jeryl immediately felt two emotions implode within him. One was compassion for the Sonali crew onboard the ship now helplessly stranded in Tyreesian space—the only sworn enemy to the Galactic Council. This incursion—for Jeryl didn’t know what else to call it—was tantamount to an act of war. The Sonali had just recently recovered from a cultural uprising that almost spelt disaster for them. Jeryl hardly thought they wanted to go to war with the Tyreesians.
The second emotion that brewed inside him was contempt and anger, especially when he remembered Leader Greer who almost sabotaged the Council’s negotiations several years ago.
“Plot a course, Navigations,” Jeryl ordered.
He shut his eyes for moment, knowing what was to come.
He wasn’t disappointed.
“Sir,” said First Officer Gavin, whose work station was to the right of the captain’s chair. “I must remind you that entering Tyreesian space is strictly forbidden for all Terran Armada vessels, and must only be conducted with express approval from Armada Command.”
Jeryl sighed, opening his eyes. He looked to see that Pedro had already plotted the course and was ready to engage the FTL drives.
“No, Ashley, you don’t need to remind me,” he said. “But you don’t expect me to leave that ship stranded in Tyreesian space, do you?”
“Sir, with all due respect, it matters not what I or the whole crew expects,” Ashley replied. “What matters is that we follow our orders.”
Jeryl smiled a little before glancing over at his First Officer, Ashley Gavin. She was a paragon of beauty, standing at her workstation like a goddess over a city.
“Even at the expense of another war?” Jeryl replied. “Because that’s what will happen if we leave the Sonali vessel there. And if the Sonali go to war with the Tyreesians, then we will have to go to war with the Tyreesians because the Sonali are part of the Galactic Council.”
Ashley wanted to say something, but when Jeryl made a knowing face, she withheld her tongue and frowned.
“You know I’m right,” Jeryl said. Even though he was the final authority on the ship, Jeryl liked to listen to the advice of his senior officers and staff. He believed in leaning on his officers for support, especially when they knew more than he did or knew something he didn’t.
“At least, tell Admiral Gan,” Ashley said.
Jeryl felt an automatic frown appear on his face. He found Admiral Gan obnoxious, and one of the most difficult people he had to work with.
Jeryl sighed and fell into his seat.
“Contact Admiral Gan,” Jeryl commanded.
“Aye, Captain,” Taylor replied.
Almost immediately, a gangly-looking man with a bald head and a grim expression appeared on the screen. He was half-standing, half-sitting on his desk at the Edoris Space Station.
“Yes?” the man barked, his face betraying that there was no love lost between the Admiral and Jeryl.
The captain maintained his professional outlook, even though all that boiled within him was disgust.
Jeryl cleared his throat. “Sir, requesting permission to respond to a Sonali ship’s distress call.”
“Why are you calling me to request permission? Armada regulations are clear,” the Admiral replied, the creases on his forehead deepening as he frowned.
Jeryl cleared his throat again. “They’re in Tyreesian space, about a quarter of a light year away. We can be in and out before anyone realizes we were there—”
“Absolutely not,” the Admiral replied.
“But sir—”
“No, Captain,” the man said, cutting him off. “That’s an order. In fact, I’m ordering you to head back to the space station before you get ideas into your head. We’ll send a taskforce to hold at the border. You hear me? Return to Edoris Station immediately.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Captain Jeryl said, then he cut the slipstream connection from the master switch on the console on the arm of his chair.
“You’re not going to obey that order, are you?” asked Ashley.
“Am I that predictable?” Jeryl whispered at her, a subtle grin taking over his mouth.
“Oh, shit,” Ashley whispered to herself, shaking her head. “Here we go…”
“Pedro, punch it.”
The head of navigations nodded with an amused smile and activated the FTL drive.
A few minutes later the Seeker was jumping into FTL space, he
ading towards Tyreesian space.
Chapter 2
“What’s our ETA, Mr. Ferriero?” Jeryl asked with a sense of satisfaction in his voice.
“Three hours at FTL 5, sir,” the navigations officer replied.
He sat in his seat with a rush of rebellious pride within him. It wasn’t every day Jeryl had justifiable cause to rebel against a full-fledged Admiral’s direct order. At least, if the Armada demanded an explanation—as they surely would after this suspiciously harrowing trip—he could easily justify his actions. The risk was, he may or may not falsify these justifications before the panel where the judgment of his actions would rest.
It was a thin line Jeryl walked, and heck—he danced on the tightrope with the grace of a tiger. Even though he wasn’t a man of politics, he knew how powerful and influential he was. He was highly, even toxically, influential in the Terran Union and much of the Terran Armada below the Admiralty—or the part of the Admiralty that wanted his head.
Jeryl liked to think that he was also revered on ten other worlds, including the Tyreesian world—and for justified reasons. He weakened the Sonali Combine force during the Earth-Sonali war, and when he had the chance to crush the Sonali in one final blow, he held his hand for a chance of peace.
He was the one who brought nine different species together to form the Galactic Council. He even beat the Tyreesian at their game, when they tried to sabotage the Galactic Council.
Jeryl had gone by several names through the years, each name as reverent as the last. Avenger of the Mariner and Father of the Galactic Council—those were the two that stuck with him and were popular among the masses.
These titles revealed two sides of Jeryl: the Avenger of the Mariner spoke of the battle hardened, quick-reflexed, and cunning Armada captain who led the war effort against the Sonali in the face of overwhelming odds. It was a name that revealed Jeryl’s aggressive side.
The other name, Father of the Galactic Council, spoke of a more gentle nature. It showed the diplomat within him, and it revealed that Jeryl wasn’t just a war-monger like some others. Jeryl’s many accomplishments had given him a certain degree of latitude to do whatever he wanted and get away with it. He wasn’t exactly the trouble-making captain, the kind of rogue that’d become a liability to the Armada…but there were times he needed to exert his will.
