Fallen Empire: A Military Science Fiction Epic Adventure (Born of Ash Book 1)

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  Besides Chris and Lee, there were only a handful of other people living at the base. Like her, they were mostly techs and engineers. That, of course, did not include Crecee and his platoon of regulators. They were short-term residents. Hopefully, their stay would be a brief one, for Keira disliked Crecee and always had since they’d been children. He’d been a bully, and Keira hated bullies.

  Crecee, for his part, seemed to be fascinated with her. Whenever their paths crossed, which thankfully had been an infrequent occurrence, he made a point to hit on her, to make his intentions plain. Perhaps, she considered, it was not so bad she was being sent back out into the field again. At least she would not have to deal with his unwanted attention. With any luck, when they returned to the base, he would be long gone. With that happy thought, she continued to the women’s showers.

  Chapter Four

  When she arrived at the showers, there was no one about, which was a pleasant surprise. Dependent upon Command’s needs, there were a handful of female techs stationed at the base or passing through on a regular basis. The showers and bathrooms always seemed to be in use. The base wasn’t all that big, and as a result, it was sometimes difficult to get privacy.

  The shower also served as a bathroom and consisted of two small rooms. It was depressing in its simplicity. There was an outer area for changing, along with several toilet stalls and two sinks. Above the sinks were old-fashioned mirrors, instead of view screens, which one found stationside. They lacked for nothing on the station, while those on the surface suffered and went without.

  Unhappily, Keira glanced into one of the stalls. The condition overnight had not changed. That was no surprise. No one had bothered to clean the toilets in some time, at least since they had last been at the base. And then, Keira had done the job herself. She found the lack of cleanliness disgusting. Nobody, it seemed, cared enough. That was a recurring theme on Asherho, a lack of caring. Or perhaps it was a lack of heart, maybe even a mixture of both.

  Had they been staying longer, Keira would have made sure to clean the toilets and give the current residents some shit about failing to do so. The mess had likely been exacerbated by some of Crecee’s soldiers. They had no respect for anyone.

  The walls of the showers were, like the rest of the base, made of a cheap composite metal resistant to rust and corrosion. The floor was imitation tile. It had cracked in places and grown grimy with age, almost slimy from lack of cleaning too. A plastic curtain dotted with mold spots separated the communal showers from the changing room.

  Closing the door behind her, she locked it, throwing the mechanical bolt home. It gave a satisfying clunk. She moved over to a bench, stripped, and placed her clothes on it. The air in the showers, like the rest of the base, was cold. She shivered as goosebumps formed on her skin.

  Barefooted, Keira stepped over toward the mirrors. Leaning forward on a sink, she took a moment to look at her reflection. Though she was in shape from regular training with Chris, Asherho was slowly taking its toll upon her. As plain as day, she could see it in the mirror. The weariness and the numbing exhaustion were written on her face. She pushed back her brown hair to examine her pale skin and the bags under her eyes.

  “You’re growing old before your time,” she said to herself. With a finger, she touched the crow’s feet beginning to form around her eyes. They were faint, but they were there.

  The sullen anger lingered just out of sight, hidden behind the carefully controlled façade she’d developed over the years. She only showed the world what they needed to see, except of course those who had grown close to her, like Chris and Lee. They knew the real Keira, the one who longed for a better world. The anger grew with each trip they made out into the field. It was fed by the knowledge that she could do little to help those who deserved so much more.

  The powerful medications designed to counteract the toxicity and growing radiation of the planet were also taking a toll upon her health. So too were the dust and ash. No matter how much the air was filtered, microparticles were continually being inhaled. Even the medication could not fully address or counteract that. Asherho was slowly killing those who lived on her surface.

  She thought again on the elegant women stationside. They were pictures of beauty and perfect health, with plenty of food from the orbital farms, real food, not rations. They did not have to live and work in a poisoned environment. Their air was as fresh as could be, no toxic dust, no ash. She expelled an unhappy breath. Orbiting high above in the veritable heavens, they lived like gods. Keira wasn’t like them, could never be. It just wasn’t who she was.

  Still, she longed for a better life, something the UPG had long since promised but never seemed able to deliver on. It was so frustrating, maddening even. Keira gripped the edges of the sink. After a moment, she closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down.

  Her father had been responsible for her current vocation. Though she did not remember life before coming to Asherho, growing up planetside, her childhood had been far from a pampered one. Back then, things had not been so bad. And yet, she’d still seen the harsh realities of life, known those who suffered terribly, had it worse than she did.

  Keira’s father had brought her from repair job to repair job, dragging her across the planet. From a young age, she had gotten her hands dirty, helping him fix broken-down and worn-out equipment. Though filled with hardship, in truth, it had been a wonderful time, a life with endless adventure around every corner. She had mostly seen the world from a child’s viewpoint, but it had been eye-opening, even then.

  Now things were different. As conditions worsened, the planet had changed. Like a coming storm, the mood of the people had darkened. And of course, her father had died. There were some who believed in god. Her father had. After his death, Keira had had difficulty finding a spiritual connection to the divine. She doubted she ever would. There were days she just felt hollow inside. For what god would allow such suffering?

  She touched her stomach with the palm of her hand, where Chris had not only punched her but kicked her as well. It was still tender but didn’t hurt too much. The spot was red, though she judged she would not bruise, at least not too badly. Over the years, Keira had received worse sparring with him and given worse too.

  Chris wasn’t all that sympathetic to complaining. As a teen she had discovered he was quite immune to it—that and whining. He was a good teacher, and an even better man, with a sense of fairness that was quite unassailable. She recognized the need for the training he put her through. Asherho was not a safe world. The local authorities were barely managing to hang on and the UPG was struggling to keep a lid on the chaos, growing lawlessness, and civil unrest. Worse, the only escape was to the orbital habitats, and they were badly overcrowded too.

  Straightening, she spared one more look at the mirror before making her way into the shower. As expected, the water was hot but limited. Keira made sure to thoroughly enjoy the moment. In the days ahead, there would be no shower facilities available and even fewer comforts. On Asherho, you took your pleasures where you could find them.

  The pressure was strong and, combined with the heat, felt wonderful. Before she knew it, the shower buzzed, alerting her that her time was up.

  Almost regretfully, she pulled on the lever and stopped the flow. The room had filled with steam and grown warm. Grabbing her towel from where she had hung it, she dried herself off and returned to the changing area, dressing quickly in the jumpsuit.

  Keira returned to the sink, removed her brush from her toiletry bag, and worked rapidly to brush her hair straight. She did not keep it long. Being planetside, she really could not afford to let it grow out, not like the women on the orbital stations. There simply wasn’t time to care for it properly, especially with the exercise and training sessions, or worse, living in her hazard suit for days and weeks at a time.

  As she brushed, Keira thought on the job to come, the expedition outside the walls of the base and beyond the Secure Zone. Her mood always darkened a
t such times, at what they’d encounter and see.

  Keira glanced at the old mechanical clock on the wall to her right. Feeling the pressure to pick up the pace, she tied her hair into a short ponytail, packed up, and left. Keira shivered as the cold air hit her when she stepped back out into the hall. The heat from the shower had made the enclosed space warm and comfortable.

  Unlike the water heaters, the air conditioning units did not function all that well. They never had. It had something to do with the poor conditions of the atmosphere, the dust and ash continually clogging the filters. Repairing them had not been a priority either, as parts were scarce and hard to come by. So, those who lived at Sterris just had to make do, daily cleaning the air filters. Only, their efforts never seemed to help much.

  Keira returned to her room. There, she stripped again, this time dressing only in undergarments, before taking her hazard suit from the hook where it hung. She scanned the suit for holes, rips, tears, or places where the seals did not fit properly. Satisfied that all was in order, she put it on. The suit was bulky, uncomfortable, and yet over the last two years it had become nearly a second skin, one she wished she could shed permanently. Keira hated it, and most everyone else she knew loathed them as well. Still, they were necessary, required even. That was, if you wanted to live a longer life.

  Most people who had to wear them called them gumby suits. She didn’t know what a gumby was and, in truth, doubted that anyone else did either. At least no one she’d ever asked could give her what seemed like a plausible explanation. Keira accepted that was just what it was called and that was that.

  The suit had its own air filtration and climate control system. It would keep her comfortable and warm, while filtering out the increasingly poisonous and toxic air of the planet. It also protected against the radiation. The suit wasn’t perfect, but it provided most of the protection she needed. Well, as long as they didn’t go near any of the hot zones. For that, she would need something more substantial, something the UPG did not usually provide to work crews like theirs.

  Once the suit was secure and comfortably in place, she attached a battery pack and powered it up. Within moments, the fans buzzed to life and air was running, brushing against her skin from thousands of tiny pinprick holes in the underlayer. It gave off a slight hissing sound. The suit partially inflated with the rushing air. She clipped her helmet to a hook on her back, behind her neck. The helmet was within easy reach, but more importantly, it was out of the way. She would wear it that way until it was time to go outside.

  From a locked compartment in the bottom of the dresser, Keira pulled out her 255-SE4 bolt pistol. Chris had gifted her the weapon on her eighteenth birthday. She had been told it was the standard issue sidearm for the Imperial Marine Corps and had been nicknamed the Widow Maker. He had gushed in loving terms about the pistol, its reliability, light weight, and durability in the worst of conditions.

  “It will even fire while caked with mud,” Chris had told her, though mud was something she had never seen on Asherho.

  The weapon carried sixteen high-powered bolts in a magazine. Each bolt packed one heck of a punch. He had told her, unlike standard slug throwers, at close range, it was guaranteed to hammer through most types of body armor.

  “It will do a considerable amount of damage to the person inside,” Chris had assured her. “So, when you pull the trigger, make sure it counts. Sixteen bolts sounds like a lot, but in a fight, you will burn through them quickly if you are not careful.”

  Keira settled the weapon into its holster on her hip, then pulled two more magazines from the compartment and attached them via magnetic locks behind the holster. She had sixteen bolts in the magazine and thirty-two for backup. She glanced down at the holstered weapon and prayed she would never have to use it.

  “It’s better to be prepared than not,” she said, echoing Chris’s words. That was a persistent theme from him, preparation.

  From the same locker, she pulled out a powered gravity knife, a relic from the height of imperial technology. She toggled the on switch and the knife hummed to life, a line of light appearing on its edge. She turned it off and slid the blade into its sheath, which had been bonded onto her right chest, hilt facing down.

  The positioning allowed her to easily draw the knife with her left hand. Though it was a weapon made for war, she had only ever used it as a tool for work. The cutting power was amazing. The knife could slice through solid steel with only a little effort.

  The weapon clicked as it locked into the sheath. It had been a gift from Wash and Vex, two marines who had served alongside Chris. After her father’s death, together, the three marines, Chris, Wash, and Vex, had adopted and raised her.

  Satisfied that everything was in order, she grabbed her go bag, which included snacks she had managed to hoard, and an old reader, along with a change of clothing, another jumpsuit, and some toiletries. The bag also included her government-issued medications. She glanced inside, checking that everything was still there, before slinging it over a shoulder. There would not be an opportunity to return for forgotten items. Once they left, that was it, especially with a storm on the way.

  During the more monotonous times, when they were traveling long distances or waiting for someone else to do their job so they could do theirs, she found reading a pleasant distraction. Like her hand-to-hand training sessions with Chris, reading provided an escape from life on Asherho. It transported her to distant places and worlds, some of which she could scarcely imagine were real.

  Her father had given her the reader and had loaded it with a wide selection of books. She doubted there was another reader on the planet that had as much material. It was a veritable library at her fingertips. There were thousands of non-fiction books and novels, as well as tons of tech manuals and specification journals he had compiled over the years for repairing and maintaining equipment. It was an incredible resource, and a precious one she could not replace.

  Keira glanced around the room. Everything was neat and orderly, just as she preferred it. There was nothing to clean up. She paused and looked at a small picture she had taped to the wall by the door and let out an unhappy breath. She touched it with a gloved hand.

  “I miss you,” she breathed, “terribly.”

  Her father had been a tall man. He had always had a distinguished air about him. In the picture, he wore an engineering shipsuit, with the rank of a captain of the Imperial Navy. Based upon the timestamp, the image had been taken aboard a starship five years prior to her birth. She could see controls and displays from a workstation behind him, but she could not read what was on the displays. Had that been his ship station where he worked? Her father was smiling in the picture. Gazing at it always gave her a warm feeling and brought out the memories.

  She had a flash of him playing hide-and-seek with her when she was younger. They had been out on a repair job, and Chris, Vex, and Wash were with them. They were playing too. It had been her turn to hide. When she was younger, she had loved the game. Those times had seemed so much simpler.

  Another memory came to mind, of her father helping a local family repair their home lighting system. It had shorted out. Keira had assisted him. It was not part of the job they’d been dispatched to do, but he’d put in extra time and got it done for nothing in return. That was the kind of man he had been, someone who had made it his life’s mission to help others.

  That memory amongst so many others had stuck with her. The family they had helped had been living by candlelight for weeks. That had been years ago. She’d been a mere child at the time, but it had felt good to help, still felt good, for Keira was doing her best to fill her father’s boots by carrying on his work. And they were big ones too.

  The image also brought out feelings of loss as well, raw memories of the day he had passed from this world. She hadn’t been there when the crash had happened. She wished she had, for things might have gone differently, but that had not been possible. She would always regret that.

 
Next to his picture was one of her mother, young, vibrant, and sitting on a sandy beach with an ocean stretching out behind her. Her hair was brown, skin tanned. She wore a skimpy bathing suit. The ocean was vast, seemingly endless, and incredibly blue. Keira had often wondered where that picture had been taken. Chris had not known. She had found it in her father’s things after his passing. It had become one of her favorite pictures and seemed to show a life without worry.

  What planet was it? Keira could not imagine all that water. How deep did it go? Was it cold or warm? Could her mother swim? What kind of animals lived in the water? Were they dangerous? She had so many questions. There was just so much she didn’t know. She kissed her gloved hand and then touched the picture.

  Taped to the wall was a letter from the UPG. It stated that she had half a tour left planetside before rotating back to the station for five years. There, she would be assigned to the training division, preparing new recruits, who qualified for deployment.

  Should they pass, the recruits would join a repair and maintenance team, like her own, for additional hands-on training. The letter had been waiting for her when she had returned last night. It gave her some hope of putting the madness behind her, at least for a time.

  Command had already extended her tour twice now, adding two additional six-month bits. She had been due to rotate back a year ago. The original extension had not been unexpected. The question in her mind was, would they do it again when her time was up? She suspected they might. There was just too great a demand for people with her skills.

  She stepped back out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Tugging on the handle, Keira checked to make certain it was securely locked. Again, there was no one about in the hallway. She turned and made her way toward the mess, which was located on the other side of the base.

  The hallway came to a tee, and she turned left. Faded signs with arrows had been painted on the walls. One told her quite unnecessarily the direction of the mess. She could smell the meatballs and spaghetti long before she arrived. It smelled delicious and her mouth watered with it. The lab-grown meat was an unexpected, though welcome, treat that she was looking forward to.