The Fringe Series Omnibus

by Rachel Aukes

  “Let him come,” Sixx answered with nonchalance. A dark smile crept up his face. “I can promise you that he won’t be in one piece when I’m finished with him.”

  Reyne chimed in. “If he comes after us, it saves us the time having to hunt him down.”

  She looked at him, confused.

  Sixx grinned. “We’re going after Axos, kiddo. We should have a good head start by the time you and Loverboy leave Terra.”

  Her lax jaw closed, and she pursed her lips. “You better leave some of that Myrad vig for me to finish off.”

  Reyne eyed Sixx and nodded to the Gryphon. Sixx squeezed Throttle’s shoulder. “See you soon, sis.”

  As Sixx headed to the ship, Reyne focused on Throttle. “Watch yourself around here. Mason’s still out there, and he holds a pretty big grudge against Seda and Critch. Who knows what he’ll try next.”

  “I’ll be careful,” she said.

  “When you get tired of Birk, you know there’s always a pilot seat on the Gryphon.”

  “I know, Dad.” She pulled him down to her, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

  When he came back to full height, he soaked in her face, never wanting to forget that moment.

  “It’s okay. You’ll see me again soon.”

  He shrugged. “It’s an awfully big universe.”

  She smiled. “But it’s a small galaxy.”

  END OF BOOK 3

  Fringe War

  Fringe Series, Book 4

  One

  Tipping Point

  Rebus Station, Terra

  The five blue-skinned Myrads quickened their pace as they made for their hotel in Rebus Station.

  Nannette, one of the two women in the group, threw a hurried glance over her shoulder. “There’s another one back there now. They’re definitely following us.”

  “Quit looking back,” Edmun said. “They’re probably just drunk and looking for an excuse to pick a fight.” While he spoke, he scrolled through the functions on his wrist comm and tapped the Emergency icon.

  After several seconds, a comm tech’s face appeared on the small screen. “Emergency services. How may I assist you, Citizen Edmun Strand?”

  “We’re being followed by some colonists,” Edmun said. “Can you send help?”

  “I have a squad of dromadiers three blocks from your location. I am sending them your locator ID now. They should be there within two minutes.”

  Edmun let out a breath. “Thank you.” He scanned his group, giving them a reassuring nod. “You hear that? They’ll be here in no time.”

  The group didn’t slow down, and neither did the three colonists following them. Four more colonists emerged around the corner ahead, walking straight toward the Myrads.

  Edmun slowed and then abruptly cut to the right, taking his group off the sidewalk to cross the street.

  “They’re all following us,” Nannette said, her voice a couple octaves higher than normal.

  Yet another group of colonists emerged from an alley across the street. Edmun froze, then spun around to see himself and his friends trapped in the middle of the street as the groups converged around them.

  “Let me handle this,” Edmun announced to his friends, all of whom were wide-eyed and stiff with fear. He turned to face the colonists and held out his hands in a non-threatening manner. “Listen, we don’t want any trouble. We’re with the Citizens Against Hunger Program. CAHP is a humanitarian group. We’re here to help you.”

  “Ha!” One of the colonists stepped forward. He was dirty, and his hair looked like it’d gone years without a cut. He was dressed, like his compatriots, in frayed brown clothes and an oversized, heavy canvas coat. “We wouldn’t be hungry if it wasn’t for you citizens taking half our food and ninety percent of our income.”

  The ice in the leader’s glare brought chills across Edmun’s skin. He swallowed. “If you need credits, we don’t have much, but we’ll give you what we can.”

  “Can you make the droms leave us alone?”

  “The Collective Unified Forces exists to protect everyone in the system,” Edmun said, hoping the CUF’s dromadiers would be there soon to rescue them.

  “Bullshit. All they do is beat us and take our kids.” The leader opened his coat and pulled out a rifle. “The Collective taking everything of ours stops today.”

  Gasps and whimpers came from Edmun’s group. He felt a trickle of sweat roll down his face. The weapon wasn’t a photon gun—it was something much older—but he knew it was likely just as deadly.

  The group of colonists had moved to form a V in Edmun’s line of sight. With the area behind him now opened, his first instinct was to turn and sprint away. Maybe that was what the colonists wanted—to watch citizens turn tail and run. But he was a Myrad, and Myrads weren’t mongrels that ran at the first sign of danger. He inhaled deeply to tamp down his fear. The droms would be here any second. All Edmun had to do was buy his group time. “Listen,” he began. “You don’t want to do this. They’ll throw you in prison for twenty years if you hurt a citizen. Take our credits. If that’s not enough, I have a ship at the docks—”

  The leader raised his rifle.

  “No!” Nannette cried out.

  The man fired. A loud blast echoed off the building walls around them.

  Someone screamed.

  Edmun felt an incredible pressure in his chest. He looked down to see a dark stain. He lifted a hand to the spreading stain and numbly discovered a puncture wound just above his heart. The pain hit him then, excruciating agony that dropped him to his knees. He tried to suck in a breath but couldn’t find any air. Panic took control. He gasped, but his inhalations never reached his lungs.

  Around him, a cacophony of gunfire erupted. He wanted to scream for help, but his mouth filled with tangy liquid. He coughed and sputtered for only a moment before everything faded into floating darkness.

  Two

  How War is Made

  Parliament, Myr

  Corps General Barrett Anders stood behind the podium facing the emergency Parliament session on Myr. He could’ve addressed the members with the formality they were used to, but instead decided to go with the straightforward approach. “By now, you should’ve read the terms of the cease-fire agreement. As part of those terms, I request Parliament to declare the fringe planets as independent worlds of the Collective, with guaranteed open trade through all four fringe stations, to be detailed via individual trade negotiations.”

  The senators raised an uproar. Voices stepped on one another as politicians declared their dissent.

  Anders let them carry on for a minute before speaking loudly into the microphone. “Tell me why each planet within the Collective shouldn’t be treated equally.”

  “Because they’re colonies, not citizen-states,” someone yelled. “Those colonies wouldn’t exist without our resources and support.”

  Anders held back a shrug. “Myr and Alluvia were Earth’s colonies as well, yet Earth never once dictated control after the colony ships left Earth’s system.”

  “The fringe worlds don’t have the infrastructure to manage themselves. They need us,” another called out.

  “Do they?” Anders looked across the faces until he found who he sought. “What do you have to say about that, Senator Finnegan? As the sole representative of the colonies to Parliament, do you believe they are capable of managing themselves?”

  The senator, a plump, elderly man, took his time to turn on the microphone at his table. “I do believe the colonies are capable of managing themselves,” he drawled out.

  “You have to say that for your constituents or else you won’t get voted in next term,” a senator shouted.

  Finnegan held up a hand. “However, each fringe world was settled by colonists with Collective backing. It was the Collective—namely, Myr and Alluvia—that provided the funds and resources to establish each new planet’s first colonies, which became what we know as the fringe stations. As such, I believe two things must be made true for the Col
lective to thrive. First, I believe the fringe worlds should remain in the Collective as independent citizen-states. After all, it’s natural evolution for colonies to mature. We all know the Collective would collapse if four of its six worlds broke free. We learned a hard lesson when the blight was released at Sol Base, which cut us off from over half of the Collective’s food supplies for several months. That brings me to my second belief. I have long been a proponent for allowing multiple fringe stations on each planet as redundancies, with each world managing its own docks, just as Myr and Alluvia do today. I believe today is the day we lift the ban on the fringe worlds and allow them to build and manage their own space docks.”

  Anders suspected the fringe was already building space docks under the Collective’s nose. He’d dispatched drones to orbit all four fringe worlds to detect any such construction, but space docks only needed silo openings for ships to be launched. Finding holes with diameters of less than one hundred fifty meters wide equated to finding the proverbial needle in the haystack.

  “Then the fringe would control the docks,” a senator called out.

  “If they control the docks, they can dictate trade terms and tax us for landing,” another said.

  “True enough,” Finnegan said. “However, capitalism creates competition, which will ensure equitable rates for everyone. The CUF has controlled the docks for too long. Don’t you agree, Corps General?”

  “Absolutely,” Anders replied quickly, thankful to get the floor back from the famously long-winded senator. “If the Forces were freed up from maintaining the status quo within the Collective, then we could focus on the future, such as exploring for habitable systems for expansion. That, I believe, would be a boon to everyone.”

  Anders noticed movement from the corner of his eye. He looked to see a senator from Alluvia stand and proceed toward the podium. He grimaced inwardly. Gabriel Heid was the well-known co-chair of Parliament and was believed to have much of Parliament already in his back pocket.

  Anders had gone through the Academy with the senator’s daughter. He and Gabriela Heid had become friends, staying in touch even after she stole the warship she commanded and joined the fringe cause. He’d seen firsthand how Senator Heid treated his daughter like a disposable pawn, always using her to improve his career. The senator was a snake, and Anders did not trust him.

  Anders didn’t move from the podium when Heid came to a stop right next to him.

  Heid bumped Anders—no doubt, intentionally—as he leaned close to the microphone. “While I believe all this discourse is interesting, it distracts us from the crucial decision we must weigh today. The violence we’ve seen in the colonies has gone too far. We must take measures to end the rebellion taking place across the fringe worlds.”

  “I don’t see how that discussion is any different from the one we’re having now, Senator,” Anders said. “I have negotiated a cease-fire with Seda Faulk to bide time for Parliament to establish equitable terms for all six worlds. Seda Faulk declared that anything other than the independence of colonies is a non-negotiable outcome. The sooner Parliament acknowledges their independence, the lower the risk we have of the cease-fire being violated.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Corps General,” Heid said.

  Anders frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Heid glanced at him briefly before turning to face Parliament. In that brief moment, Anders could’ve sworn he’d seen smugness in the older man’s face.

  “Less than one day after the torrents blew up one of our destroyers, they attacked innocent citizens. Three hours ago, five Myrads, who were on a CAHP humanitarian mission, were slaughtered on Rebus Station.”

  The room burst into another uproar. Gabriel Heid tamped down the air and waited for the members of Parliament to quit talking among themselves. He continued. “The CAHP killings prove the fringe has no intention of respecting a cease-fire.”

  “I will ensure justice is done,” Anders said. “Once I review the footage—”

  Heid held up a hand. “I think you’ve done enough already, Corps General. You’ve given the fringe rebels validation that if they kill citizens, you’ll give in to their demands. They’ve been behaving like unruly children and will continue to throw tantrums as long as it gets them what they want. I say we treat them like children and rein them in.”

  Parliament broke out into cheers.

  Anders steamed. He shot a glare at Heid before turning back to the room. “Then you will fight another war, as bloody, if not more so, like the one Myr and Alluvia fought before forming the Collective.” With that, he stepped down from the podium and returned to his seat on the floor.

  Heid placed both hands on the podium, claiming it. “Corps General Anders says we’ll have war, and I agree. I believe he’s taken us to a point where there is no turning back. The fringe has shown an utter disregard for life with first the blight and now the CAHP killings. When they murdered Corps General Ausyar and killed everyone on board the Unity, Corps General Anders not only did not punish those responsible, he negotiated terms in their favor. We need to show the colonists that they are a part of the Collective, and that the Collective does not stand for mass murder. I move to immediately and definitively declare war on the colonies.”

  Parliament became louder than at any time earlier in the session. The few dissonant shouts were drowned out by cheers.

  “All colonies? Darios hasn’t shown aggression,” a senator yelled through her microphone to speak over the cacophony.

  “If we leave a single colony, the rebels will relocate there,” Heid said, the room quieting at his voice. “The Space Coast isn’t part of the Collective, and that asteroid belt has long been home to criminals. If the rebels choose to move there and away from the good people of the Collective, I’d say we let them.”

  Senator Finnegan tapped his microphone. “War is unnecessary. I will speak with my constituents. I’m sure we can reach an agreement.”

  “The time for negotiations is over,” Heid said. “The Collective, by its very name, must be unified.”

  Cheers erupted.

  Heid continued. “I loathe violence—as I know you all do—but pain is sometimes the only way to get through to an obstinate mind. If the colonies hurt enough, their minds will open to the truth that the Collective serves everyone. Therefore, I propose we accept the war the colonies have been asking for and initiate wartime law over all four colony worlds.”

  Senator Etzel, Parliament’s co-chair from Myr, stood. “I second your proposal, Senator.”

  Heid nodded. “How say you all, senators?”

  All the members, save three, raised their hands and shouted their agreement. Anders felt nauseous.

  “The ayes have it,” Heid said. “Effective now, the Collective is fighting a civil war against criminals spreading lawlessness across the four colony worlds.”

  The senators responded with cheers, and Anders couldn’t mistake the arrogance in Heid’s expression when the senator turned his gaze to him. Heid practically smiled before he turned back to face Parliament.

  “Further, I believe we all want this war to be as short-lived as possible and to minimize costs to the Collective in terms of resources and loss of life. To accomplish that, I believe we need a Corps General who is up to the task. Barrett Anders has proven he cares more about placation than peace. I propose Commandant Maximus Laciam, commander of the freshly repaired Unity, to serve the Collective as Corps General, and Barrett Anders be removed from his current command as Corps General of the Collective Unified Forces and commandant of the Littorio, and be demoted to commandant of a destroyer-class ship within the Unity’s complement. There, Anders may still provide value to the Collective while under the leadership of a commandant not afraid to face problems head-on.”

  Anders scowled. Heid had complete control of Parliament, and he knew it. But naming Laciam? That arrogant Myrad was at least a decade away from having the skills and experience to serve as Corps General of the CUF. Ande
rs could list at least twenty better-qualified candidates. Anders had met Laciam when the lad was first officer on Gabriela Heid’s Arcadia. Laciam and a dozen other dromadiers, who’d been unwilling to follow her to fight for the fringe, had been dropped onto a transport ship and left floating in space for a week until they were picked up by one of Ausyar’s ships. That Heid was naming Laciam meant Laciam was as much a puppet as Ausyar had been.

  “I concur, Senator Heid,” Senator Etzel said. “I feel the interests of the Collective will best be served by a Corps General who’s dedicated his entire career to serving the Collective. I have met Max Laciam. He comes from a long line of stalwart defenders of the Collective.”

  Anders noticed how good Heid was at acting humble, though anyone who’d ever met him would know the man was the opposite.

  Heid spoke. “You have heard our recommendation. “How say you all, senators?”

  Nearly all the Alluvians and Senator Finnegan did not raise their hands.

  Heid looked across the room. “The ayes have it. Thank you, Senators, friends. You have equipped our military to fight the war swiftly and adeptly.”

  The room broke out in cheers and applause once again.

  Anders shook his head in disbelief. He stood and strode from the room. He tried to ignore the cheers until the door shut behind him, granting him silence. Gabriel Heid now controlled both Parliament and the CUF, making him essentially an emperor. Anders had at first believed Heid wanted a war. Now, he understood it was power that Heid had been after all along. Heid had needed the war to run a power play he’d clearly been planning for some time. He wondered how long it would be before Heid eliminated the concept of a Corps General.

  Despite Heid’s political games, Anders knew that securing victory in a civil war was another story.

  Anders had seen the passion for independence across the fringe, passion that Heid was blind to. Myr and Alluvia had treated the colonists as second-class people for too long. The Collective may have the technology, but the colonists outnumbered the citizens ten to one, and the colony worlds had far more raw resources. The longer the war dragged out, the more Myr and Alluvia would suffer. Anders wondered if Heid had considered the likelihood of the fringe winning the war? Because Anders certainly had, and he was starting to believe it would be the better outcome.