Contents
Title
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
IRON SPEAR
ANTHONY THACKSTON
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
No part, section or chapter from this book may be reproduced in any capacity outside of the original work without author’s written consent except where brief quotes are used for review.
Copyright © 2016 Anthony Thackston
All rights reserved.
The War
The enormity of space cannot be described. It can’t even be experienced. An ever expanding void that stretches out in all directions, space constantly reached for an even larger mass of nothingness.
Not long ago, there was a war between Earth and a race of beings known as the Ka’traxis Brood. The Ka’traxis were a power hungry, warrior species from the outer rim of the universe. They sought to conquest the blue planet and used all of the vast technologies at their disposal to succeed in their plans. But Earth was not without its warriors. Giant star ships filled with arrays of armaments defended the planet. The skill of Earth’s forces was barely enough to turn the tide and send the invaders back from where they came. And though any Earth soldier would be hesitant to say it, luck played a massive role in their victory.
But victory can be short lived. At the end of the war, before the final Ka’traxis Brood ship left the Milky Way Galaxy, a warning was given to the Earth. “This is not over. We will return and victory will be ours.”
Words such as those left the Earth and its military fleet shaken. In time, though, the threat of revenge left the minds of those who’d fought such a hard battle. The sun rose. The sun set. And life returned to normal. But for those who’d fought long and hard in that most terrible battle among the stars, the war had not ended. It was merely on hold.
One
Weary Without War
Captain James “Albatross” Irons, AKA Iron Albatross, was shocked awake by the loud blaring of an electric guitar plugged into an amplifier and aimed directly at his room. He bolted upright and immediately struck his head on the low overhang of his bed bunk.
“Son of a…” he growled in his guttural voice. His muscular legs swung around and hit the cold steel floor of his quarters— quarters that were not equal to his rank aboard the ship as his room was the same size as that of his crew. After the war, many Earth Fleet military ships were turned into mining vessels. Such was the fate of his ship, the USS Lucky Liberty. Part of that decommission process was that all non-essential military battle ships were to have the Captain’s quarters subdivided to make room for extra personnel for the mining operations. It was a restructure that Irons still had problems with.
He stood up and stretched muscles that looked to be in a constant state of readiness.This was a man who prided himself on physical fitness. It was James Irons’s opinion that a soldier who was not in top physical shape was not a soldier. Of course, being the man he was, concern for his appearance was unimportant. It was a mere bi-product of healthy and active living.
Irons walked to his dresser and opened the top drawer. Inside were the regular accoutrements, underwear, under shirts, military dog tags, side-arm and cigars. Irons sifted through all of that to pull out one more item. A black eyepatch. The close-cropped military haircut, gray from age and battle, the salt and pepper stubble, more salt than pepper, and the battle scars from the past all made for a specimen not to be trifled with in the Iron Albatross.
But of all his war wounds, the one that left the deepest mark was the one that took his eye. Two parallel scars went from the middle of his forehead all the way to his jaw line. His eye was replaced with a cybernetic one which he covered with the basic eyepatch. Consequently, the Cyber Eye in Captain Irons eye socket didn’t just help with depth perception. It was a tactical device, constantly running, logging and identifying what it saw. But the stream of data was too much and served little else than distract him. So the eyepatch not only kept people from staring, but without visual input, it also prevented the constant visual data flow. Thermal, X-Ray vision and laser blast were three more of the other useful features it had. But Irons was an honorable man who liked a challenge and viewed such features as cheating. He preferred to let his training and skill be the decision makers in all he did. Besides the laser blast had a bad side-effect of causing massive headaches.
Too bad the Cyber Eye had no sound dampener because the guitar next door seemed to be getting louder.
“It’s too early for this.” He stuck his fingers in his ears and looked at the clock on top of the dresser. “Oh-Nine-Hundred a.m.? I’m late.”
He rushed to a closet and opened the door. Three sets of identical gray jumpsuits hung on the closet rod. Irons grabbed one and hastily put in on.
As he zipped it up, he looked down at the glass tank on his desk. Inside was a turtle with its arms, legs and head tucked into its shell. Irons reached inside and stroked the shell. “It’s even too loud for you.”
The little turtle head poked out just enough for Irons to see its eyes.
“Don’t worry. This is the last time, I promise.”
Irons quickly laced up his boots and walked to the door. The motion sensor picked up on his movements and the door slid sideways into the wall. It was a rough opening and the steel had four deep gouges running parallel on it from all of the opening and closing over the years. Irons stepped into the hallway of the crew quarters. The guitar was still loud. He looked up and down the hallway but there was no sign of anyone else.
“I don’t tolerate late,” he muttered, walking to the door only feet away from his own.
Before he could even face the door, Irons could feel the vibrations of the chords through the steel closure. Even his Cyber Eye felt like it was rattling in his head. The high tech optical device was wired directly to his brain and the feeling of it rattling around in his eye socket wasn’t making his morning any easier.
Irons covered his eyepatch for fear the cyber eye would vibrate right out of his skull. He banged on the steel door hard enough to bruise his hand, and the guitar finally stopped. Irons waited till he could hear the hiss of the door’s pneumatics as they worked to open the door.
As the steel slid into the wall, the disheveled mopped head of a lean young man appeared. He wore boxer shorts and a t-shirt. This sad looking individual was every bit the opposite of Captain Irons. Horrible posture, he slouched in a lackadaisical sort of way, and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in over forty-eight hours. But worst of all was the cheesy grin on his face. Seeing him after such a rude awakening only served to irritate the Captain further.
“Captain.” The smiler saluted limply. “Good morning.”
“Why are you still in your quarters, Durham? You’re not even dressed,”
“I was just trying to wake you up, Captain. I knew today was a big day and wanted to make sure you were ready
and on time.”
Former Private Taylor Lee Durham was by every account a slacker. This was a man who skated through life on his boyish good looks and his banter. By all rights it was hard to have ever considered Durham a soldier. At least not in his appearance. His whole reason for having ever been in the military was the result of a gambling bet. A bet that he lost. Still, the employment came in handy as he was quite in debt with several casinos on Earth— one of the downfalls of a gambling problem. Of course, right now he had a more immediate concern in the slowly tightening fist of James Irons.
“And I see that you’re up so my work here is done,” Durham said, spinning around and rushing to his closet.
“I want you at that presentation in two minutes,” Irons said. “If you’re late, you might as well jettison yourself.” Irons walked away.
“Yes sir. Right away, sir.” Durham fumbled to get one leg into his jumpsuit.
“And jettison that guitar on your way down.”
Two
Ex Marks The Spot
As a former military man, Irons was familiar with a little pomp and circumstance. A man as decorated as himself was even familiar with a few parades thrown in his honor. His victory of Cyril Canyon on the storm planet Radial IV received a particularly rowdy celebration. But the amount of money that must have been spent on the gala event for Wartech Industries was unimaginable even for the Iron Albatross.
Irons and Durham walked through the conference floor of the event. They sidestepped waiters with silver trays of exotic beverages, some of them strong enough to cause hallucinations just their smell. Flat, clear liquids. Bubbly and fizzy liquids. And some that seemed to have a never-ending volcanic smoke of various colors. Durham, being the man he was, reached for a glass but Irons grunted disapproval. Durham drew back his hand. Even though he was was a slacker, he knew better than to disobey James Irons.
The two passed by display pedestals of chrome and steel that showed off the latest in private sector military hardware. Wartech spared no expense in making sure that everyone in attendance was happy and impressed.
“We’re not military, anymore. What are we doing here, Boss?” Durham asked.
“I’m wondering the same thing,” Irons said as he passed by a rotund man enchanted by two tall, Nordic women.
The Nordics were a species of highly attractive beings. It was somewhere in the early twenty-first century that they made themselves known to Earth. Famed for their beauty and their exotic delicacies, Nordics had enjoyed a peaceful and prosperous alliance with humans for a long time.
Irons took a long look at a long gun. All of the basic bells and whistles were in all the right places. The spike on the end of the gun’s handle was of great interest to him. “Coulda used that in the past.”
“Could have used a lot of things in the past, James.” A female voice came from behind him. It was commanding but had a hint of disappointment in it. “Not the least of which was a watch,” she continued.
Irons turned around with a smile anyone could tell was forced. His eyes though held a different expression. “Mona—”
“Admiral.” Durham saluted.
Irons looked at him cock-eyed. Durham wouldn’t go against Irons’s orders but he rarely gave him that kind of salute. He respected the man just fine. But the full postured, dress salute? Irons hardly got that when they were in the service. Durham’s greetings were usually akin to a rope of spaghetti. Limp and, frankly, sad looking.
“Once a soldier always a soldier,” Mona said. “You could learn a thing or two from your crew, Irons.”
“And you could learn a thing or two from marriage counseling.”
“We tried that, remember? Look where it got us.”
Throughout history, military life has always been difficult for married life. And the Iron Albatross’s marriage/military life was no different. Not that he didn’t try. Three times to be exact. Each one ended in disaster for the former Captain. And to make matters worse, he owed each of his ex-wives alimony. A miner’s salary wasn’t horrible but his situation left him broker than he was comfortable with. Admiral Mona Collins was his second wife and while he wouldn’t admit it, his favorite of the three. She rose through the ranks of the fleet at a blinding pace. While Irons was out fighting for the planet, she was busy on Earth climbing the military ladder. She was a good soldier and knew her way around a gun and a battle field. But she was also excellent in the political arena and knew how to navigate the military and civilian sectors with precision. Unfortunately, she put career over their marriage, a thing the Iron Albatross still held a grudge for. Even so, he also held an affinity for her.
“You look good,” he snarled.
Durham silently watched the sly but small smile that formed on one corner of the Admiral’s lips. His eyes grew wide. They weren’t exactly flirting but it was fairly clear to anyone close enough that she shared a similar affinity for Irons. Too bad they were both too proud to admit it.
“Thanks. You look like…Well, at least you’re keeping in shape,” she complimented backhandedly.
“Why am I here?” Irons finally got to the point.
“It wasn’t my idea.”
He frowned. “You’re the one who invited me and my crew.”
“That was at someone else’s request. I guess he figured you wouldn’t turn me down.”
“Who?”
“That would be me.”
At the new voice, Irons barely withheld a groan.
“And I’m so glad you could make it.” The man’s voice was friendly but smug. Almost like a used car salesman. But not just any salesman. No, this one owned the car lot, and was extremely good at making friends quickly. “I just thought, what a treat to have such a decorated soldier at my presentation.”
Irons finally turned around to the gleaming white veneers and custom tailored suit of the otherwise unimpressive and short man holding out his hand. The general world consensus was that when one has all of the money, one can do all of the things. And Benjamin Stevens had all of the money and so could afford the custom tailored suit and the gleaming white veneers. It also meant he was not accustomed to hearing ‘no’ very often. When you can offer an island as part of a deal, the word ‘no’ is usually not an option.
“I can’t tell you just how excited I am to meet you in person,” Benjamin said. “Benjamin Stevens, Wartech CEO.”
Irons took the man’s hand and was shocked at the firm shake.
“I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. I have to admit, it’s been one of my dreams ever since I was a kid. I was worried I wouldn’t get that chance after your ship had been decommissioned—”
Irons grunted and looked away.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess that would be a sore subject. I’m just really excited you’re here. I didn’t know how to get a hold of you so I asked the Admiral for a favor.”
“In return for something special, I’m sure,” Irons said.
Benjamin laughed. It was not his real laugh but one that he’d practiced in the mirror multiple times a day. The idea was that it was supposed to be inviting and disarming.
Benjamin smiled. “Nothing important, I can promise you.”
“Then you won’t mind if me and my crew leave.” Irons thumbed toward the exit.
“Right to the point.” Benjamin clasped his hands together. “I like that. I love that. Wartech could definitely use that in senior management.”
“You offering me a job?”
“Would you take it if I was?”
Irons looked over the gala at all of the movers and shakers. Everyone in this place, aside from the military personnel, were quite well off. A job like that would certainly provide the good life. More importantly it would finally get his ex-wives off his back.
“Not challenging enough,” Irons said.
Durham’s mouth hit the floor.
“A man like you needs open space. I understand,” Benjamin said. “I get out of the office as much as possible.”
“
You should try a day with my crew. Mining a few moons will give you all the space you could ever want.”
“I might just take you up on that.”
“And I’m sure you would enjoy every minute of that, Mr. Stevens,” Mona said. “If Wartech didn’t have you burning both ends of a major candle.”
“She’s right. Still, we’ll revisit that idea.”
Mona looked at her watch. “It’s ten o’clock, sir.”
“Of course. I’ve taken up enough of the Captain’s time. I do hope you’ll stay for the presentation. Wartech is unrolling a lot of goodies. Stuff I’m sure you’ll appreciate given your service record. Captain.”
“Mr. Stevens,” Irons returned the salutation.
And so Benjamin Stevens, a weapons specialist who’d probably never fired a weapon in a combat situation, walked away from his idol, the Iron Albatross. The CEO disappeared in the sea of other specialists who’d probably never been in a combat situation. Irons never did like to assume anything but in this environment he felt confident in his assumption that the wealthy individuals at this party would not survive five minutes in a firefight.
“So, I’ve done my part.” Mona crept up to Irons’s shoulder. “You can stay and see what you’re missing or you’re free to go.”
“Stay? Only if you recommission my boat and my crew.”
“The latter it is,” Admiral Mona Collins teased as she followed Benjamin.
“I’m really ok with staying,” Durham said just before downing a shot of thick liquid. Once the molasses-like substance finally made its way onto his tongue he immediately tried to spit it out but the slimy yet gummy texture stuck to the roof of mouth, forcing him to chew it.
Irons gave one of his rare smiles.“Good. That’ll keep you quiet while I hear what Wartech’s offering these days.”
* * *
The crowd was piled in shoulder to shoulder at one end of the conference hall.
“Gather in, everyone. Plenty of room for all,” Benjamin said into a microphone.
IRON SPEAR Page 1
