Anstractor (The New Phase Book 1)

by Greg Dragon

  Rafian fired a few head shots at some Geralos soldiers, more to see if he still had a deadeye aim than to actually help anyone. It wasn’t as if the soldiers on the ground needed him. When the entire city was cleared of Geralese occupation, the phaser agents scanned the air and moved to escort in a host of marines from the Helysian. They were deployed to execute search-and-destroy missions on the rest of the country. With agreement that this was now a phaser operation, the marines would do what they needed to do and then join with Rafian’s people in order to build a proper military base outside of what would be a sizable civilian city.

  This had been Rafian’s dream—for Vestalia to start over. After planning the invasion and eliminating and occupying the Geralos with aid from the top brass of the Marine Space Corps, he was finally granted his wish. Now that he had flown this dangerous mission to clear the vermin, he could move on to the next phase, which would rely on the architects and engineers being flown in.

  He helped the aces bring the marines down to land, and he provided personal cover for them as they scraped the landscape for any remaining Geralos. The entire operation had taken the better half of a day, and its success was due to the amazing intelligence that had been gathered on the country of Cerium, in coordination with the superior technology of the phasers. The country had been taken so fast the marines had time to erect a shield above the area that would be the city and barracks. The entire compound sat on 1600 acres of land, and the first of the military structures, the Phaser Agency, was ported in using the warp crystals.

  A week later, the phaser base of operations and training facility were erected, and a small ceremony was held to commemorate the new start. New uniforms—which were extremely sharp—were issued to the men and women who had aided in taking Zynec Prime. The phaser colors were red and black, with the flag now displaying a shattered white crystal on top of a black planet, cracked to display its imperfection, and the entire thing rested on a crimson field.

  The uniforms consisted of black boots and black pants, with red stripes running the length of the sides. The stripe was actually the pattern of a long las-sword. The tops started with a red tank-top with the insignia on the left breast. A black shirt went over it, armored (as were the pants and boots) with Solark leather, a material that deflected shots of any kind and could be penetrated only by plasma technology, las-swords, or heavy lasers. The shirts were unmarked but impressive in their own way. Going over the shirt was the cherished white military jacket of a phaser graduate. Hats varied based on specialty, but most wore shaded glasses that had intelligence readouts for operations on the inside.

  Rafian again walked through a line of saluting peers—now decked out in their colors. He climbed the tall steps leading up to the entrance, approached the podium, and looked down upon the expanse of people cheering for him and smiling as if Vestalia had already been conquered. The view from the podium, his podium, was breathtaking, and he could imagine that after the city was built, he would be able to look out over it from where he stood. It was a good idea to put Phaser Base Alpha on the highest hill in the country, but he did not realize the strategic advantage it would serve if anyone were to infiltrate their ranks. The sky was a clear cyan, giving the illusion of purity and new beginnings, but it was nature’s irony at work, showing a clear day of life as if the last week hadn’t been filled with blood and death.

  Rafian’s observation lasted at most two seconds as he regarded his soldiers and moved on to speak. “This is only the beginning.”

  He said this in a firm and direct manner, his deep voice booming from the sound system. The crowd erupted in chants of something unintelligible, but it sounded affirming, so Rafian continued.

  “This has been a long, painful road for many of us. Hell, the training almost destroyed a dear friend of mine who even now is locked in battle with the demons in the head to overcome the trauma. Many of you are strong, but you are battling the same demons that I myself fight mentally. We were made immoral, inhumane, and calloused because of a few old fools who thought that was the only way members of this galaxy could adequately guard our home. We, the few who liberated the free thinkers from the atrocity that was once known as the jumpers, have torn out the beating heart of those same old fools and reinvented ourselves as phaser agents!”

  The crowd went ballistic, and Rafian felt a painful lump in his throat as he thought of Camille and how much she needed to be there, breaking open the new base with him. To his right stood Tayden. She looked impressive, decorated with every medal that she had ever been granted as a pilot and wearing a personally designed beret that matched her suit and jacket. She did not move the entire time while he made his speech, and he felt an enormous amount of respect for everything she had done leading up to this, including rescuing him from the amnesia and that first jump.

  “I will be supreme commander of this organization until you vote me incapable or I retire to live on a freed Vestalia.…I reserve the right to identify a country of my own to settle down on.”

  He paused to let the laughter build up from his ridiculous joke and winked at Marian.

  “Or permanent death finds me and returns me to the life-force. Camille YAN will remain as subcommander, and she will be my eyes, ears, and brain in times of my absence. Your base commander and my fellow lead will be Colonel Tayden Lark. I will be absent often in the field. She will command this structure, oversee the training of our recruits, and be first contact whenever defense of this city is needed, or when backup is required on any mission. It is an honor to be your leader, my fellow marines, starfighters, and spies. Let us not forget that each one of us was deemed special within our respective military ranks, so do not let that fade from your minds as you go forth on your missions.”

  With that, Rafian turned the announcement chip over to Tayden and stood where she was standing as she delivered a powerful speech of her own. The speech would be remembered as the Phoenix Eye Address due to being borrowed by the military for repeating to soldiers who were about to embark on a dangerous mission.

  Tayden was a short woman, but when she took the podium and spoke, she seemed very much the giant that her heart demanded the world see her as. Rafian looked at her with admiration, having seen her grow from the angry young woman who lashed out at Arn for shooting her to a composed and dangerous professional who had not only saved his life but expanded their organization with over a hundred new recruits. Thirteen fully graduated phasers stood at the front of the crowd to hear the address, their white coats contrasted against the sea of black, red, and blue that was the recruits and the attending space marines from the Helysian. Tayden tapped the floating mic droid as it centered itself in front of her, and without any hesitation, she began her legendary speech.

  “Warriors, conquerors, defenders, and lovers. We all have our own selfish motivations for why we fight. Many of us don’t know said motivation as of yet because we have buried it deep as we mask it with words such as, ‘I fight for Vestalia my home.’

  “Rafian and I couldn’t care less why you fight, ladies and gentlemen. What we do care about is that in any skirmish that you are involved in—be it a bar fight or a single-pilot drop into a war zone—you fight as if it were your last chance to show your supreme quality.

  “Fight as if all the holo-vids of the known galaxies were keyed in on you and you only had one chance to get it right.

  “Fight as if your family, your friends, and your lovers all depended on it to continue to live out their lives.

  “As phasers, you are branded as the best chance for humanity. This is a heavy charge, I know. But the training you have endured, the loss of what could be deemed as a happy, regular, human existence, and lastly, the fate of the galaxy demand that you represent us in the way that you are expected to.

  “Phasers don’t fail. We do the mission. When we fall, we get up, dust ourselves off, and finish the mission. When we have doubt, we steel ourselves, remember the details, and finish the mission. When we die, we clone and return,
like a ghost that was wronged in its mortal life, or like a phoenix whose fire refuses to be tamed, and we finish the mission.

  “We finish the mission, phasers, and we do it with class. Please join me in giving ourselves the first of many cheers for a mission well done, and to the letter.”

  With that, the crowd erupted. One hundred and twenty phasers were present from all corners of the galaxy, having come in to see their new command. They were excited, and for good reason. They were finally on Vestalia with a solid base of operations, no longer hiding in the clouds of a planet that nobody wanted.

  About The Author

  GREG DRAGON has been a creative writer for several years and has authored on topics of relationship, finance, physical fitness and more through different sources of media. In particular, his online magazine has been a source of much pragmatic information, which has been helpful to many. As a result, his work continues to grow with a large and loyal fan base.

  This Florida author brings exciting action and drama to his written work. His storylines keep readers engaged with characters that come to life from the beautiful celestial scenes of science fiction, to the gritty world of urban drama.

  See Greg’s author page at gregdragon.com or keep up with his latest books and appearances through email.

  Read on for an excerpt from:

  PHASERS OF ANSTRACTOR

  Phasers of Anstractor | Excerpt

  Warp crystals came in a variety of sizes, shapes and colors, but they all did the same thing – they teleported their masters from one place to another. What the dark education taught Phasers was that life as they knew it was only the structured half of the plane of existence. There are two sides to life’s canvas. There is the painted side—the one we all experience in life—and then there is the back of the canvas—the void that only a select few can access. The crystals give us access to the void; through it we can travel speeds that are faster than light. Transcend death, and explore the Multiverse.

  Using a crystal is akin to ripping a hole into life’s canvas and walking through it to the back, only to re-emerge through another hole in another section of the paint. This movement, or “jump,” to the non-detailed back of the canvas is beyond mortal understanding. But for the Phasers, it is the galaxies’ deepest secret, a secret that grants them immortality.

  – Aurora SYN, Biographer

  It was a bright afternoon in Zallus, Vestalia and Rafian VCA was darting through the city’s streets, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, chasing his wife, Marian, in order to apologize. For the residents of the city of Zallus, it would have looked like a black shadow whisking by, but Rafian was more concerned with reaching his wife than to worry about spooking anyone. Before Marian could reach the exterior gates, Rafian, jumped off a particularly tall structure, somersaulted several times, and landed in front of her with his hands resting on her light hover-bike, preventing it from continuing forward.

  Marian had known that someone was trailing her, but was unaware it was her husband. Therefore, when he sprung, she was ready and flew off the bike with her las-sword free. The wind produced a thick cloud of dust from the road, forcing her to shield her eyes as she moved in on her attacker. But she stopped short when she recognized the form of her husband, as he stood with his hands on her hover bike.

  “I could have killed you Rafian! WHAT…THE…HELL?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rafian used his hand to fan away the dust as he approached the battle-ready Marian and hugged her tightly. She stayed rigid, and he knew that his earlier words were still on her mind.

  She looked up at his dark brown face. It was slightly obscured by the sand, but his teeth gleamed through, annoying her even more. She pushed him off and his handsome features contorted into a mask of pure disappointment.

  “Why would you say such a cold and calloused thing to me, Rafian? The Lucan galaxy is my home; I have blood relatives on Tyhera. Why would you say there is nothing left for me there?”

  She was screaming at him as she powered down her sword and re-sheathed it. A crowd of onlookers came around to investigate the source of the yelling. As the citizens of Zallus approached the couple, Rafian felt embarrassed.

  “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way,” he said. “All I could think about was the great progress we’ve made here, and how much it would hurt our cause if we were to lose you.”

  Staring at him with disbelief, Marian walked up close to his tall frame so that only he could hear what she had to say. “It’s funny how life works,” she said. She crossed her arms defensively, looking off to the side. “I used to have a husband who adored me. I married a man who placed me above his war, his quest for revenge and his organization. I had a husband who cared about saving people – all people – not just those from his beloved Vestalia. I HAD a husband, who came into my world, my Lucan world, and helped a revolution grow so strong, that it could take out a well-established Empire. That husband would have heard me when I asked to return to my world, to check in on things. And he would have supported me. What happened to that man, Rafian?”

  As she fought back the tears, Marian hopped back onto the hover-bike, then sped away towards their home.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Rafian asked himself, as he dusted off his clothes and ran after her.

  ~*~*~*~

  While Rafian VCA was on Vestalia chasing his wife, the marines of the Missio-tral were about to have major problems in deep space. A large Geralos destroyer drifted silently towards the area where the battle cruiser Missio-tral was located. After losing Zynec Prime on Vestalia to the Phasers, the Geralos leaders had decided to stay quiet for a time. Their plan: let the humans settle in before making a move against the fleet.

  Missio-tral was a ship built exclusively for war. It had seen numerous battles, and was able to fight and jump away easily whenever things got too hot. Therefore, the Geralos wanted to sneak up on them and disable their jump drive, so that the humans would be forced to stand and fight.

  When the Geralos were close enough to see the Missio-tral on their jump-radar, they began firing missiles and plasma rockets into its hull. Feeling desperate and overly exposed to the Geralos, the Missio-tral fired back at the battleship and sent out a distress signal to another Alliance battleship known as the Rendron.

  ~*~*~*~

  By the time Rafian made it home it was evening, and he found his wife inside an erected watchtower that stood outside of their cavern home. She looked beautiful. Her dress was a silken, sand-colored thing made from a single piece of material. It was draped to keep things modest while being supported solely by a jeweled cord, loosely tied at the waist. Her hair was blowing wildly in the wind as she looked down upon the force field and lights that bordered their little city. She had seen her husband walking up the hill towards her, but she paid him no mind and stood with her hands akimbo, like a powerful goddess overlooking a civilization that worshipped her.

  Climbing the steps to where Marian stood on the tower, Rafian placed his hands on her hips and spun her around. He touched his nose to hers in the standard greeting of Tyheran lovers. Marian allowed him to kiss her, but then she backed away to watch the disappointment in his eyes.

  “You’re dusty and dirty, Raf. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Laughing and nodding at the rejection, Rafian countered, “Dirty? I can fix that in fifteen minutes if you promise to stay up here, just like you are now, so that I can come back and ravage you.”

  Marian did not seem very interested and as he made to leave, she caught his arm and shook her head for him not to go. “Rafian, we’re alone, so I have to ask.”

  He tensed up in anticipation of her saying that she was leaving him or something equally devastating.

  “Where is Camille YAN?” she asked. “Ever since we discussed what to do about your relationship with her, she has gone off the grid completely. No one is saying anything and your dark, erratic mood has me thinking that the worst has happened.”

  Mar
ian had managed to slip out of his hands and stood with her arms crossed. Her eyes watched him intently for lies or any attempt to change the subject.

  “Marian, Camille is not dead and she hasn’t been banished, so don’t worry about it.”

  “Of course she isn’t dead, or in another galaxy like you claim, but she is somewhere that isn’t here. I would like to know where. She helped to start our agency, and at this, the most crucial hour of our cause, she is missing. Where the hell is she?”

  Rafian could see that Marian would not give up her probing and was looking for him to lie so she could call him on it. He and Tayden, his sub-Commander, both knew of Camille’s fate, but had agreed that, until she was released, they would make up a false story for anyone who asked. Camille had no close friends outside of Rafian, so he assumed that no one would bother to pry. But here was Marian—in all of her fiery persistence—wondering about the truth.

  “Camille is on a psych ship being evaluated and treated, Rhee,” he said, using the nickname he’d coined for her. “I would appreciate it if this stayed between us—”

  “Who exactly would I tell? I know you think I hate her, but you’re wrong about that. I really do care about her and simply wanted to know where she was.”

  Marian walked towards the edge of the tower. She leaned against the decorative metal railing that bordered its edges, and looked over the expanse of land that held the city and their military operation. Rafian stood watching her, admiring her slender but strong body. He was still very much in love with his wife. She made his heart do things that he couldn’t explain, and he knew that he hadn’t told her enough how much he loved her. She began to speak again but this time it was in her native Tyheran tongue.