Raystar of Terra: Book 1
Page 30
I had my family, my friends. I was dying. AI had said that I had two days before I turned to goo. Then what? Would I end up like Artem? Or would I just end?
I lowered my eyes at Mom and stared blankly at the Glean Creed emblazoned on her suit’s breast. More than a creed, it was a to-do list: Peace. Love. Family. War.
We didn’t have peace.
The 98th had arrived, and only Sarla and I knew Godwill’s genocidal intentions. Would anyone believe me if I told them? Did I have enough life left in me to even tell my story?
Love.
What did that mean? Mom and Dad had come back for us. I wasn’t sure they had a choice, given that both of their “daughters” had been kidnapped and the Glean Ascendancy knew it. Is love doing the things you have to do, or the things you choose to do? Maybe I didn’t really know what that word meant.
Family?
I sighed. I was connected to everyone here. They were all I had, and in these past days, we’d stuck by each other. Somehow. But each of them had a family who would take them in, assuming we all survived this. I had been given to Mom and Dad as part of an agreement to keep me from falling into the wrong hands. I wanted, with all of my being, to belong. But I didn’t even have a species on this planet to join.
In the dark part of my being, where thoughts lose their structure and I can only feel my way through the darkness, something ignited. It was a small flame, but its power source was clear: my resolve. The past was gone. In the next few and last moments of my life, how would I live? How would I die? I pushed myself out of my slouch and frowned. I would not be a victim anymore. Heat welled in my chest; I clenched my teeth. From now until my end, I would happen to things. Anger fueled my internal flame. The furious light of my purpose blazed away the darkness of my mind.
“Sathra, we have an incoming message,” Dad said. “I’m transmitting to the screens.”
The command center viewers flickered to life in a wall of icicle blue, casting cold shadows on me and my friends. Fuzzy pixilation gave way to clarity as the images resolved.
Godwill. But not Godwill.
His larger-than-life face, skeletal and gaunt, avalanched toward me, courtesy of amazing 3-D visuals, into the command center. Eyes wide, I turned my head and escaped from him into the accommodating gel of the command chair. Scars stretched diagonally from his right temple down across his left jaw. Redness from the newly healed wounds cut through his tight, grey skin. His long, black hair was shriveled and burned—even completely missing in some places, exposing grey-red patches of scorched flesh. His combat armor hung loosely; the melted breastplates testified to the extreme temperatures they’d been subjected to. His face was a picture frame of madness, and inside that frame, his eyes burned as twin flames of electric-white sparks centered in shadows so dark, so deep, they could have been voids in space. He was in a ship, I figured, noting the crates in the background—he was in some sort of cargo hold.
I gripped the arms of the command chair and turned to face him. Was his violence the only truth? Was it now mine?
Nova that. Fire and rage surged through me, and I met his gaze with my glare.
“Raystar,” he hissed, raspy, almost digitized, as he leaned to glare at me with his pupil-less, space-black eyes. “You have destroyed my life’s work, all that was important to me. Do not let me find your friends and family. Kill them before I get to them. Their suffering is my path to you…or don’t.” He smiled insanely wide, an abyss of teeth. “In the end, it doesn’t matter.” Then he whispered, “I am your Fate…and I am coming for you.”
His image disappeared. The tank’s life support hummed, and the occasional thud of a direct plasma hit interrupted the silence of the command center.
Peace. Love. Family.
The last mandate of the Glean creed surged through me. My mind burned with acceptance. Humanity’s legacy, my inheritance, stood in my thoughts, robed in the phoenix’s flames. My fate or my choice—it didn’t matter. It was mine.
War.
END OF BOOK 1
Author’s Note
I grew up reading C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and Philip K. Dick…wow, the list goes on. My imagination lit up when Gary Gygax exploded on the scene with his world creation system, Dungeons & Dragons. How cool was it to actually be able to dream up your own story, and then play it?
Now, with video games as immersive as they are, we have so many powerful ways of storytelling, imagining alternate realities, or simply just examining our own through different lenses. Raystar’s journey is just beginning. I hope you’ll join her as she discovers who she is, who her friends are, and what it means to be Human!
Acknowledgments
My deepest thanks go to:
My dad, Karl, for getting me hooked on science fiction and fantasy at an early age.
My mom, Indira, for helping me through all those late hours and teaching me how to edit in middle school.
My brother, Bjorn, for serving as a sounding board and test reader.
Kiran, my amazing kiddo, for being the prime reader, and for, after a sigh and incredible kindness, eventually saying, “I’ll wait to read the final version.”
My amazing friends, who stuck with me through the doubt, duality, and crazy: Bill, Emma, Freya, Fu, Pete, Ronan, and Stew.
Bruce, for actually planting the seed that I could, uh, write stuff, and for being patient, understanding, and forgiving with my writing cadence.
Perrin, for her insight and sherpa-ness.
If I’ve learned anything through this process, it’s that creativity isn’t a singular thing; it happens as a synthesis, and there are simply too many people to list who have influenced the development of this story. But thank you ALL. I know I didn’t do this alone.
And of course, thank you, dear reader, for your time and your belief—or for at least momentarily suspending your disbelief.
About the Author
Chicago is Kurt’s base of operations. He sees humanity’s hubris and ambition in every building that reaches towards the stars and draws inspiration and motivation from anything over fifty stories tall. Mix in having a passion for martial arts; being born in India; living in Sweden; and having great friends, an awesome daughter, amazing parents, and a tight family—and one might think he’s content. Alas, since he was a wee thing, he’s wanted to write science fiction and fantasy. So, pretty much, he’s incredibly grateful for his typing speed and the fact that he doesn’t have to use a pen.
Table of Contents
Foreword
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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