Contents
Title
Publishing
Foreward
Title page
Intro
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Outro
Title page
Intro
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Outro
Title page
Intro
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Outro
Acknowledgements
Thank You
A Game of War
Season One
by
Michael Cairns
Published by Cairns Publishing
Copyright © Michael Cairns (2013)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication
may be reproduced, distributed, or
transmitted in any form or by any means without the
prior written permission of the publisher.
1st Edition
The opening to this book came to me fully-formed, without warning, while I was driving. Of course, in the writing, I messed around with it for hours. I'm still not convinced I nailed it quite as I first imagined, but it's at a place where I'm proud of it.
When I sat down to write more, I didn't yet know who the girl walking across the planet's surface was, nor the trials and tribulations she would face going forward. I must confess that these days, I'm rather fond of Ally. She's a character I have a lot of time for, not least because she's been through hell, more than once, and come out the other side smiling.
This book collects the first three parts of her story. On the plus side, this means you don't have to be tortured by the cliffhangers that end each one. On the negative side, it means I don't get to torture you with the cliffhangers that end each one.
I've written the first nine at the time of releasing this, and I know what happens in the three after that. Beyond that, I have no idea where Ally will end up, but I can't imagine not finding the time to put her through more pain and anguish.
Thanks for reading.
Keep reading at the end for an interview in which the author discusses writing, the A Game of War saga and his future projects. Also, a bonus sneak preview of part four, Breathing in Space.
A Game of War
Book One
Childhood Dreams
Intro
The road stretched before them, dust rising in blankets from the soles of a thousand survivors. Glancing behind them, he could make out the tail of their convoy, disappearing into the haze. He was acutely aware of the ache in his feet, of the dull throbbing that threatened to drag him down and he was so tempted to sink gratefully into the grey monotony they walked over.
Not far ahead, the port beckoned. There they could once again take ship and get the hell off this horrible planet, away from the still bitter taste of defeat and pointlessness. Next to him, Alicia walked determinedly, her chin jutting out. That she was still on her feet was a constant amazement to him, but then she'd amazed him since the day she was born. He shook his head, feeling a little lighter on his feet and grinned.
She was sixteen, had walked for three days solid and the only thing bothering her was that the Overseer had got it so wrong. She was an astonishing pilot, and developing well as a strategist, but in these big battles she was still seen as a grunt compared to the older pilots. Viran had made his decision, as he always did and they'd followed it. Perhaps one day she would be the Overseer. He grinned again, his face aching from the unfamiliar expression. That would be worth seeing. He shook his head again, took a deep breath and looked forward. The sun was beginning to dip below the distant hills and the wind was getting up. The dust began to batter against them, driving them forward toward their ship.
Chapter One
She stole a glance up at dad. He was getting tired and she could hear his feet scuffing against the ground. She smiled to herself as he looked back at her with concern. He still saw himself as the guardian, the one doing the looking after, and she would never tell him otherwise, whatever the reality. There was much in her life that she could be bitter about, but there was also some good. Many of the people who walked in front and behind them had no family, working together only to keep themselves alive. They went from game to game in a lonely panic, finding berth at the last minute sometimes. She had dad.
From her earliest memories, he had been the only constant; aside from the game of course. He had been the one who taught her to fly, to fight and to think. He'd also shown her reading and sums and a hundred other things she might need when the day finally arrived. She knew it was never going to come, but she kept up with the learning anyway. He was the calmest person she knew, but got angry if she ever spoke about how futile it all felt. It was probably because deep down, he agreed with her, but had held onto his dream for so long that admitting that was all it was would be too big a jump, too horrible to contemplate.
Her eyes were fixed forward, scanning the horizon constantly for signs of port, but the wind was throwing dust in them and she bowed her head. The ground beneath their feet was rock and her knees hurt from the days of walking. The Lords liked to remind them how helpless they were, as if fighting for their lives wasn't enough. She spat at the thought, her saliva a thick wad filled with fine grey dust. Dad clipped her around the head and she stumbled, then righted herself and glared up at him. He raised an eyebrow in return and she made a face.
Mum had been there, at the start. She had vague memories of her hands, a few expressions she used to say, but couldn't really picture her. She didn't know what colour her eyes had been, or what shape her face was. Dad swore blind that she was the spit of her, the same dark brown hair, thick and long and the same thin, drawn-out features, saved from plainness by her smile. So dad said. Of course, dad had loved mum, so he was bound to think she was pretty. Stem had been the only guy who seemed to think she was even worth talking to, let alone anything else. Most of the time, she didn't think about it.
Dad had gone when mum died. Not physically gone anywhere, but he stopped talking, stopped being anything really. They played the game, sometimes they won, more often they didn't, but basically, they survived. She thought she couldn't have been more than four when Mum died. She didn't remember having any kind of a real conversation with her father until she was ten, and even then it had been about the game. She had raged inside about the game, how everything in her life revolved around it, and her father's sudden attention did nothing to help, however wonderful it was. She'd have loved to talk about anything other than their weekly battle. He'd been teaching her and all that, but no give and take, not until the morning after they won the big game.
She'd been ten only for a few weeks and the set-up had been huge. There were lots of the Lords involved, each bringing their slaves to the fray. She was curious as to where all of the Lords were when the fighting was happening. Normally their ships would be on the periphery, far enough back to be safe but near enough that they could just make out the explosions in real life from their display decks. But this time, the playing area had encompassed an entire moon and the space between it and the planet below, and the Homeships were as close as they could get without being in the firing line.
Dog fighting was one thing and something that she knew she was goo
d at, but this kind of gaming needed entirely different skills. Thinking beyond the immediate danger and seeing the big picture, making alliances that broke seconds later, but kept you safe for that brief moment, she had had almost no experience of. The rhythmic scuffing of dad's shoes accompanied her into memories.
"There's so many of them, dad."
He grunted, punching buttons as they floated free of the dock. Around them other home ships were disgorging their cargo, a mish-mash of fighters, freighters and transports. Every ship out there bore a mass of repairs, a patchwork of random chunks of metal welded across bolt holes and laser tears. Not one of the ships now hanging in space was anything other than ancient, relics in the eyes of the millions who sat in their homes, millions of miles away, eating popcorn and taking bets on the winner.
Another trait they all shared was the selection of weaponry; strapped, welded, taped and clamped onto anything that would hold it. Some of the craft seemed dwarfed by cannon, huge guns facing in every direction.
Their ship was small, enough to hold a couple of bunks, a small living quarter, and the two flight seats. The main bulk of it was armour, both steel and magical. The charm boxes were their most important possession, all three shoved right in the middle of the ship, inside the main support column. Most of the Gamers had some form of magic, and it was almost always defence-based. Out here near the edges of space, it was nearly non-existent, but on Earth, before the Lords had come, it had been as fundamental as toothbrushes and charts. Between them and the vacuum outside lay nearly a metre of compacted steel, enough to sustain some pretty serious damage.
"Moira's under drive, we need to get, quick."
Dad was still pumping the starter, furiously heating the engine. She was already strapped into her seat, hands hovering over the controls. Their eyes were locked on the light as it changed to green and he slammed one fist onto the ignition. The engine coughed, then roared and she felt the ship begin to vibrate. Praying everything was locked down, she hit the thrusters and they leapt forward, from nothing to everything in seconds. She pointed the nose downwards and they dived beneath the bulk of the competitors. A couple of others were equally quick and dad opened fire on one as they passed, their lasers scoring a deep gash in the plate atop the other ship.
Behind them, Moira opened fire. One of the bigger freighters, half a kilometer of ugly metal, seemed to shed armour like leaves from a tree. From behind each leaf a cannon emerged, sticking its stubby barrel out into space. They dove, but still felt the explosions as every one of her guns unleashed, a hundred charges flying in all directions. Alicia watched with one eye in her rear view. The ships nearest Moira just collapsed, as the charges hit and then went off, tearing gaping holes in hulls. Those further away still caught some of the damage, ship parts being thrown into space in brief gouts of flame.
Moira was owned by the same Lord as Alicia and dad. She was an old, angry woman, who had stopped caring long ago about pretty much anything. Alicia had spent most the last few years being terrified of her, and with good reason. Most of the slaves dreamed just like her dad, that one day they would be chosen and set free. Moira had been out here most of her life and had long ago consigned those dreams to the vacuum, along with her only son and husband. The honour shared amongst the gamers, the effort made by most to only disable ships and not kill, was absent from her. Her only interest was in winning. Alicia had thought it was about staying alive, but she wasn't so sure anymore. Moira seemed less and less concerned with how to keep her ship flying and more concerned with how she could fit more guns to it.
She brought the Vale around in a long swooping arc, away from the pack. Soon, the moon hung between them and the rest of the ships, not that that was any real help. Even as she stilled the craft, another came into view.
"We'll take her Ally, head beneath her, fast as she can."
She jammed on the thrusters, pressure clamping her in the seat as they hurtled forward. The other ship didn't seem quite ready for them to attack and maintained its course. The Vale dropped lower and would have disappeared from the opposing pilot's vision. This seemed to wake them up and the ship abruptly keeled upwards, presenting its belly to Alicia's dad. With a grim smile, he opened fire, two rockets crashing into the engines at the back. The vessel began to spin, rolling away from them. Without engines, their game was over. It was a mercy shot, a clean shot, but unless they could repair the engines before the next game, they would be sent to the front. Alicia didn't know much about the war and what happened there, but from what she'd heard so far, she was fairly certain death in the game was preferable to being sent out.
They flew clear of the moon and surveyed the scene. Moira had begun the action, but now everyone was taking part. The entire zone was a mass of battling ships and the black was lit up by incessant laser fire and explosions. She could tell the amateurs, focusing on the obvious kill only to be taken out by another as they careered from one fight to another. They were flying like this was a normal game, exactly as dad had predicted. There were simply too many here for that to ever work, but it was good news for the Vale. They hung back, making slow loops as the slower or less able gamers were picked off.
"Keep focused, girl."
Like she needed to be told. She'd turned ten a few weeks ago and 'celebrated' with her two hundredth game. They hadn't won, but they'd been in the last five, which was pretty respectable. Partially it was because Dad just seemed to know where to go and what to do, but it was also down to her flying.
She'd been gaming for four years now and learnt something every time she got behind the screens. Her skills were developing, but her understanding was as well. She still did what dad told her to, but nowadays she questioned, and worked out why it was the right thing to do. She hadn't begun to disagree with him, not yet, but what seemed unimaginable only months ago was fast becoming likely. She grinned to herself, picturing the look on his face when she suggested some master plan, something that blew his own out of the water. At first he'd be annoyed, then proud, smiling at her and nodding in appreciation of her genius. She let herself bask in the imaginary praise.
"Wake up, Ally."
Dad's harsh voice pulled her from her reverie and she jerked the sticks, more from reflex than any deliberate plan. The blast went wide, shooting harmlessly into space as she got them out the way. They took a long, curving path, soaring down close to the planet, until she could feel the atmosphere begin to drag at the ship. She held on, pulling it round and back out into space. They made a huge track around the outskirts of the pack, passing a couple of others approaching things in a similar way.
"Hey Dad, it's Stem."
She jabbed her finger at the rear screen as they hurtled past a tiny fighter, all wings and weapons. From his place in the nose, dad grunted. Stem was a young guy, just a teenager, not much older than she was really, and even at ten she thought he was amazing. He had been in the games for longer than she had and was really good at it. Some said that he was here by choice and wasn't even a slave at all, but she had seen his brand, so.
There weren't many fighters left now, the veterans successfully thinning out the field. She felt like a veteran. This was her fourth year as a gamer, as a pilot, and the fourth year that she and dad had been a team. They weren't the only ones that had been here that long, but they were definitely in the minority. Even rarer was the Vale. Very few people retained the same ship for very long, Moira aside, let alone one in such good condition. More often than not, they finished in the last few places, which meant more credits. Dad was good with the money and knew how important it was that the ship stayed in good nick. They also had quite a lot saved, which meant that even if the Vale was destroyed, they would be able to keep going, and in a pretty decent vessel.
As they made wide swooping arcs, keeping the speed high, the remaining few ships began to separate, each taking up positions within the zone. The newbies and less able were well and truly done, most being picked up by frustrated Lords, hooked out of space and into the
cavernous cargo bays of their home ships. A few craft were left to float, a sign that either the crew were dead, or on their way to being so. There were Lords known to leave their slaves, still alive, to rot in a broken ship, but she had only heard of it happen a couple of times.
"Ally, pick up the speed and slot in behind that cruiser."
He motioned at the screen and she saw it. It was a dull, ugly thing, with no shape, but it obviously had some moves if it was still flying. Most of the ships had blind spots, but you had to be small and at least as good as she was to get into them without being seen. Of course, if it had extra screens, or proximity sensors, it would see them anyway, but few could afford either, so it was worth a try. If they did manage it, they'd be much tougher to spot for the other combatants. She pulled the sticks, changing their flight path slowly at first, then quickly bringing them in to tuck just underneath the right wing of the cruiser. She counted to five with held breath. When the cruiser maintained its path, she let it out in a long rush, then glanced back to dad.
"He's gonna track behind the moon. We'll follow him, but I want a dead stop once we're behind it, you manage that?"
"Well, yeah, course."
The cruiser was picking up speed, arrowing its blunt nose as close to the moon as possible. She kept up, nudging the Vale ever closer. The rest of the zone was soon obscured and they were plunged into shadow. Waiting until they had almost reached the far side, she hauled back on the sticks, dragging the protesting ship around 180 degrees. The cruiser continued on its way, hurtling out of hiding and bearing down on another of the gamers. As they stopped dad released a bomb, then spinning round in his seat, he aimed the turret at it and shot it. The explosion made the Vale rock and Alicia squeaked in shock, only just managing to keep the ship from plunging towards the moons' surface.
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