by Sarah Noffke
“Sir?” asked Commander Lytes.
Felix shook his head as he walked into his office. It was a large space with windows that looked out over the stern of the ship. “Just thinking about those Federation soldiers who blew up the moon where the armory was located.”
Commander Lytes cleared his throat. “It was most unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate? Losing a ship or two is unfortunate! Navigation controls steering a bit off course is unfortunate. This was a disaster.”
“I agree that it’s a setback,” said Lytes. “However, I’m confident we can reclaim what was lost in time.”
“I don’t have time!” snapped Felix. “I’d been stockpiling those weapons for years. Now, I have to start over.” He paced to the window.
“What if I told you that through the Brotherhood there might be ways to refill your supplies even faster?” asked Lytes.
Felix paused, turning slowly to measure up the Commander. He was strange-looking with his reddish scale-like skin and long arms and legs. Kezzin were mostly arms and legs, now that he thought about it, with thick torsos and hard shells. “Go on.”
Lytes nodded. “Although General Vas was good at his job, he relied heavily on the Trid for supplies.”
“Vas is dead…and therefore useless to me,” muttered Felix. “Stop tiptoeing and get on with it.”
“The Trid are helpful,” continued Lytes. “I think that utilizing the Stingrays and some of their other technology is good, but—”
“Get on with it!” Felix yelled, cutting the commander off.
“I have a source. One that could replace your artillery in no time, should we decide to reach out to him.”
“Why are you just now telling me this?” asked Felix.
“B-Because, sir, there was no need to until now, and to be completely honest, the source is quite dangerous. A real live wire. I didn’t want to contact him with this sort of request unless it was absolutely necessary.”
Felix smiled to himself. The ability to make grown men stutter was a gift that most didn’t appreciate. It meant they didn’t just fear him in the moment, but they feared what he could do in the future. Commander Lytes knew his future rested in Felix’s hands. He’d been funding the Brotherhood for quite some time now. Even the Trid were in great debt to the entrepreneur. This would all pay off because he’d made the right friends. The enemy of his enemy was, well, not a friend, but an asset, to be sure.
“I don’t have time to shiver over this supplier. I need names. If they have what I want, then we’ll make a deal. Plain and simple,” said, Felix, pulling his blue fedora hat from his head to reveal a scalp of smashed down gray hair.
“The Defiance may only deal with those they’ve dealt with before,” explained Lytes. “I’ve had limited experience with them, many years ago, but I believe I can get in contact with them again.”
“The Defiance, you say? I’ve heard of them. They’ve been quiet for some time.” Felix was impressed. He had no idea the commander had such contacts.
“They’ve been lying low, operating mostly outside of the Federation’s control.”
“How cowardly of them. How are we supposed to overthrow the Federation if we don’t create problems within their own space?” Felix asked, shaking his head.
Commander Lytes nodded, seeming to try again and again to swallow. “I agree. But the Defiance could re-supply you,” he continued. “The only problem will be setting up a meeting. We will need to handle things delicately, as they are rather quick to spook. Furthermore, you’ll have to travel far outside Federation territory to meet with them, should they accept.”
Felix laughed. “Creating a rebellion but being too afraid to do it inside of the colonies is pathetic. Sounds like I’ll be doing their job for them by taking their weapons. What’s the point in being defiant and not be in the enemy’s face?”
Lytes nodded. “I’m sure they’ll demand a great deal for the weapons, sir.”
“I’m sure they will,” agreed Felix. “But since they’re cowards, we’ll just wipe them out and take the weapons.”
“W-Wipe them out, sir?” asked Commander Lytes.
“It will be a win-win,” said Felix “I get my weapons and knock out a sad operation who can’t cut it on their own.” He sat down behind his desk. He was tired of cowards. Those who said they wanted to fight the fight but would hang around in safe territory. The Federation was here, and that’s where he was going to be.
Until the bitter end.
“In that case, I’ll set up a meeting for you, sir,” said Commander Lytes.
“Yes, do that and quickly. I want my supply chamber filled as soon as possible. We’ll be setting up a command base soon. The weapons will go there.”
“You’re moving fast now.” Commander Lytes looked impressed and worried all at the same time.
“Of course, I am,” said Felix, stroking the edge of his desk with his thumb. The cold metal surface was cool beneath his fingers. “I’m done hiding in the shadows. The time for action is now. I’m going on the offensive against the Federation.” Felix Castile leaned forward, sharpening his eyes on the Kezzin before him. “General Lance has gone unpunished for far too long for what he did to us. To humanity. To the universe, itself. Soon, he’ll meet his end, and all those who fight for him will be punished. I’m going to see to it.” He dug his finger into the desk, chipping a splinter of the wood away. “Even if it kills me, I’ll make them all pay.”
FINIS
Author Notes - Sarah Noffke
November 30, 2017
I wished I would have saved the log of questions I sent to MA when we were writing this book. I hope I didn’t make his head hurt. The questions I sent MA went something like this:
“Is it possible to boost the boosters?”
“Can we call it a tri-rifle? Is that too simplistic?”
“Can we still call it a tri-rifle if Hatch makes it do four things?”
“Why don’t you live closer? I need nachos.”
That last one was after a long writing session of sprints. That’s how I write the majority of the books. I set aside four to five hours in a day and sprint in thirty-minute increments with other authors. I used to think that sprinting was some sort of an ego game where authors tried to outdo each other’s word counts. I’ve learned now, thanks to Facebook (aka time suck), that it’s a way to stay focused. On the days I write alone, I’m like a new born puppy distracted by the shadows and ambient noises of a room. However, when I sprint with others, I’m committed to the craft. I can’t goof off because putting up a three-hundred word total after a thirty minute sprint is sad. It meant I slacked off while other author friends pushed themselves. So that’s how I get it done. There’s no magic to it. No cigars and overflowing glasses of wine. Just sprint after sprint after sprint until I’m brain dead. Oh, and there’s nachos. Some girls like chocolate, I like cheese.
You always get more than you bargained for with my author notes. Maybe way more than you wanted. Speaking of getting more than you bargained for. A huge thank you to James Caplan for all the help with the book. You went above and beyond to help with prose and your input is always valued.
When I was writing this book I ran out of drink names and calling it alcohol wasn’t cutting it. So I polled the fans on Facebook, yes, there’s a Facebook group and yes you can join. They supplied me with enough awesome names to keep me busy for the next dozen books. The flaming shots were named by Micky Cocker who brilliantly came up with baba yagas vengeance. And Thorsten Wiegand was the mastermind behind the Tullamore dew which was Chester’s first whiskey. Oh, and because the fans are incredibly awesome and talented, I had one go so far as to write an entire description for the whiskey. A HUGE thank you to the creative prose offered by James Gartside for Dead Man Walking a Queens Bitch Space whiskey. That was probably my favorite part of the book, and I didn’t even write it. Thank you to everyone for the suggestions. It’s much more fun when you write the books for me. Keep your eyes peeled (honestly, I loath
e that expression) because I will be using more suggestions from the fanbook group.
Okay, I’m told that I need to go and write book 3 because it’s coming out soon. I’m going to take my shot of whiskey like a good girl and get to work. Thank you to you all for being amazing and not running from my ramblings.
Sarah
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
December 3rd, 2017
First, let me say thank you for not only reading through the story but reading through Sarah’s author notes to read mine as well!
Let me copy a couple of sentences from Sarah’s author notes so that I can write a few of my thoughts I had when reading them for the first time.
First, we have:
“Can we still call it a tri-rifle if Hatch makes it do four things?”
And we follow it up with:
“Why don’t you live closer? I need nachos.”
One of the benefits of being the last person to write his author notes is seeing my collaborators and what they have written before me. I will admit when I read Sarah’s sentences above; I laughed out loud. I can just imagine some of my characters (specifically anyone from Team BMW) asking that exact question, “Can we still call it a try rifle if Hatch makes it do four things?”
In my mind’s eye, I sat there in thought about holding a barrel of a rifle (or something that has three barrels) with a perplexed look on my face when I realize it does four things and saying, “Why do they call it a Tri-rifle?”
I guess it just tickled my funny bone, and made me wonder again what would happen if we did some sort of field expedient modification to allow it to do five different things? The cynical side of me then starts asking questions such as, “Would the manufacturer’s tried to sue someone for modifications which would cause the name to be useless?”
Occasionally, my cynical side needs to keep its mouth shut.
One of the challenges of writing up and down a timeline as we are now is when we have a situation in the second series, which hasn’t been explained in the first series.
For example, I am writing some scenes this month with Ricky Bobby (an AI) which explains a situation that occurs in the first series, but shows up in their series decades (in the timeline) later.
I believe Sarah’s book 03 will answer the question before my book Capture Death comes out on the 25th.
Or, at least I certainly hope so! If we put out the books and you STILL have questions? It means we failed to remember something that needs to be addressed and we will do our best to fix it.
(I should totally put in Sarah’s email address here to answer all fans questions… But she would eventually figure out who had done this to her, and turnabout would be a bitch.)
It is so much fun to see characters that we dreamed up six months ago start resonating with fans. Hatch seems to be one of the early fan favorites. In your reviews on the book (should you choose to write one), would you let us know which character or characters are your favorites? I am not suggesting that I have any bets with any fellow collaborators on the results...
But if I get the information quicker, I might just set something up!
I hope you enjoy our series set in the Age of Expansion, the space opera/science fiction area of The Kurtherian Gambit.
May your December of this year, and your 2018, be fantastic!
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
Evolution
Chapter One
Defiance Trading Company Headquarters, Planet L2SCQ-6 in Frontier space.
Felix Castile listened to the loud breathing of the Kezzin behind him. Commander Lytes had to have a deviated septum. It was the only plausible reason for his constant sniffling, which was always interrupting the silence.
Or maybe it was just a physical trait of the Kezzin. Felix hadn’t taken much time to learn about the species. He knew these lizard-type aliens could stop breathing for an extended period, but that was about it.
Felix prided himself on his ability to accumulate and use information, but only when it was useful. If it didn’t earn him additional power or prestige, he didn’t seek the data out. His current relationship with Commander Lytes existed solely to further his plan, which was the complete and absolute destruction of General Lance Reynolds. The moment the Kezzin stopped being useful was the moment Felix would cut him loose.
All that Felix Castile did was for the goal. Every action, every day.
And that was exactly why he was here in this awful place, staring at a group of black market merchants.
The leader of the Defiance Trading Company, a rogue operation that stockpiled weapons and sold them on the black market, looked up from the pad in his hand. “We have loaded everything that you requested into your ship, but I have yet to see the funds come over though,” said the man. His voice was raspy, probably from years of smoking or hanging out in filthy warehouses like this one. The trader, Mateo, had a thick scar that ran over his left eye and down his cheek. Living outside of Federation space hadn’t been kind to him—that much was clear.
Felix surveyed Mateo’s crew. There were roughly a dozen men stationed around the warehouse, most of them with their guns at the ready and grimaces on their greasy faces. Felix was flanked by Brotherhood soldiers, but they were outnumbered by Mateo’s guards. No doubt the arms dealer felt safe with all these people to protect him.
He was wrong, though. Only fools underestimated Felix, and the arms merchant would soon understand that.
Felix cleared his throat. “You sold me three nukes. How many more do you have here?”
Mateo’s scar moved when he lifted his eyebrow. “Not sure why my inventory is any business of yours. I supplied you with what you asked for.”
“That you did,” Felix said, pulling his hat down over his eyes and taking a step backward.
Mateo eyed the pad again. “Like I mentioned, the transfer hasn’t come through. We can’t let you leave until it does. It’s simple business—I’m sure you understand.”
Felix smiled darkly. “About that…”
He took a few more steps back, and his soldiers stepped in to shield him.
“Didn’t you hear me?” asked Mateo. “Hey, I’m talking to—”
Shots were fired from above, and Mateo’s men yelled. Some tried to return fire, but they were quickly silenced.
Felix turned in time to watch Mateo clutch his chest as the bullet pierced the arms dealer’s flesh. Disbelief and betrayal rang out in the man’s eyes as he fell to his knees, then collapsed forward.
Each of the men stationed around the warehouse lay in similar positions, blood puddling around them. None had stood a chance.
Stationed overhead were a dozen Brotherhood soldiers, each assigned to take out a specified target on the ground. Their timing had been perfect.
Felix glanced up to the rafters with a proud look in his eyes. “Have your people load the remaining weapons into my ship.”
“Yes, sir,” said Commander Lytes, his eyes lingering on one of the dead bodies for a moment. He hadn’t liked the plan and said there had to be another way, but Lytes had been wrong—surely he had seen that by now. Perhaps next time he would trust Felix’s plans from the beginning.
The exit door swung open in front of them, and a man with a short black Mohawk and a leather jacket that had seen better days froze on the threshold. He scanned the warehouse, his eyes falling first on Mateo’s dead body and then the others that were strewn all over the facility. His gaze snapped to Felix, who was standing roughly ten meters away.
They’d missed one of Mateo’s men. “Get him!” barked Felix.
The soldiers darted forward, right as the strange man reversed, heading back the way he came. Gun shots rang out from the hallway, echoing loudly in the warehouse.
Felix looked at Commander Lytes. “Have your soldiers search the building. I don’t want anyone left alive, do you understand? No witnesses.”
Commander Lytes nodded and hurried off to where his people were gathering
in the middle of the facility after climbing down from the rafters in which they had been stationed.
Felix’s eyes briefly rested on Mateo’s dead body. Perhaps he would have been happy to know that his weapons would be used to end a long-standing feud, in a fight that would shake the very foundations of the galaxy. What better use could a man like Mateo have than to aid Felix’s mission? What better purpose could there be than to alter the status quo? Had Mateo not come to this warehouse today, he might never have realized his true destiny. He would have gone on living his life, worthless as it was, and died without ever truly mattering.
But Felix would make him matter. Felix would give Mateo’s life purpose. That would be his gift to him, albeit a posthumous one.
Soon everything would be in place to make General Reynolds pay. Felix had figured out the best way to punish him for what he’d done all those years ago.
Break the Federation, and General Reynolds would be broken, too.
As Knox Gunnerson sprinted down the hallway he thought about what he’d seen. They were dead. All of them. That was Mateo’s body at the front. They’d killed him. They’d killed all of them.
He could hear soldiers pounding, drawing closer to him. Knox’s feet weren’t moving fast enough, and the hallway was too long. There was nowhere to hide. What was he going to do?
The noise behind him stopped, but he didn’t dare turn around or slow down. Instead, he pushed forward faster. Only fifteen meters to the exit. He was almost—
A bullet whizzed by his skull and struck the door ahead. He turned to see two Brotherhood soldiers, each holding a rapid-fire rifle.
Knox ducked as the next round was fired, dropping to the ground and rolling to get out of the way.
He pulled his pistol as he rounded the corner, and then halted and took a steadying breath. Pausing to breathe seemed dumb right now, but missing would be fatal.
