A Fiery Sunset

  A Fiery Sunset

  Book One of The Omega War

  By

  Chris Kennedy & Mark Wandrey

  PUBLISHED BY: Seventh Seal Press

  Copyright © 2018 Chris Kennedy

  All Rights Reserved

  * * * * *

  Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Gateway to Union”

  and discover other titles by Mark Wandrey at:

  http://worldmaker.us/

  * * * * *

  Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Shattered Crucible”

  and discover other titles by Chris Kennedy at:

  http://chriskennedypublishing.com/

  * * * * *

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  * * * * *

  Dedication

  To Sheellah Kennedy and Joy Wandrey for supporting us in making the transition to being full-time authors, and to our fans for giving us the ability to do so.

  * * * * *

  Cover Design by Brenda Mihalko

  Original Art by Ricky Ryan

  * * * * *

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from “The Mutineer’s Daughter:”

  Excerpt from “Assassin:”

  Excerpt from “Wraithkin:”

  * * * * *

  Chapter One

  Unnamed KzSha Vessel, Emergence Point, Sol System

  Jim Cartwright felt a sudden sensation of falling, despite being in zero gravity, and the stars appeared outside the cockpit. He heaved a huge sigh of relief and let himself truly relax for the first time in 170 hours. He turned to congratulate his partner and found her wedged in the equipment box she’d claimed as a sort of nest, snoring quietly.

  “You did it, my friend,” he whispered to her. Splunk smiled in her sleep but didn’t wake up. Shortly after entering hyperspace on the last leg of his journey home, the junker of a space transport he’d stolen from the KzSha did an epic crash and burn. The fusion plant blew three of its twelve containment buffers and started leaking F11, and it had been everything Jim could do to keep Splunk, his Fae companion, from taking the entire thing apart. A relative newbie to hyperspace travel, Jim had naturally freaked out.

  The ship had served them well since they’d rescued the Aku from slavery. The following months he’d spent flying around the galaxy on a wild goose chase. All he had to show for it was uncorrelated data and a strange tattoo.

  When the first buffer blew, the Fae had rocketed aft toward the engine room. Jim was still screaming at the crappy KzSha controls on the bridge when the second one went, and containment failure was imminent. Splunk had arrived just in the nick of time. There had yet to be a piece of tech in the galaxy the little monkey-like alien couldn’t figure out. She’d just stabilized the containment field, when she said something he’d never heard her say in all the time he’d known her.

  “Jim, help, ”

  The following week had been a non-stop fight to keep the reactor from failing. She’d done most of the work, with Jim bringing tools, fabricating parts in the tiny manufactory, and grabbing an occasional meal for both of them. He didn’t think he’d slept 12 hours total, and he was relatively certain she hadn’t slept at all. Once again, he owed his life to the enigmatic companion he’d met while performing his first mission as commander.

  Jim checked their position within the emergence point, then set course for Earth. The engines didn’t respond. He sighed and engaged the reaction control system maneuvering thrusters. It was slow, but at least he would be clear in a few minutes.

  “Unidentified KzSha vessel, this is Earth Defense Force frigate Charles de Gaulle, please identify yourself.” Jim fumbled for the headset floating nearby.

  “Charles de Gaulle, this is Jim Cartwright, commander of Cartwright’s Cavaliers. The vessel is a registered war prize. I guess the merc guild transmission didn’t come through yet. Sending my Yack.” He used his pinplant to send his unique identifier and waited while the other ship commander verified the information.

  “It all appears in order, Commander,” the other man finally replied. “Welcome home. Can we assist?”

  “No, just having to use RCS. The engines are offline.”

  “Yeah, we noticed. Be aware you appear to be venting plasma to space.”

  “Shit,” Jim sighed. He used one of the improvised controls Splunk had made and triggered the drive dump, then decompressed engineering. There was a resounding bang, which reverberated through the hull, then the ship started to spin. All the lights went out except a few controls and, luckily, the radio.

  “Your fire appears to be out, Cartwright, but it looks like your engineering section exploded.”

  “Yeah,” Jim said. “Do me a favor? Call my office on Earth and have someone come out to rescue me? Our life support failed too.” In her little cubby, Splunk’s eyes opened for a moment. Not detecting any fear from her Human, she went back to sleep.

  * * *

  “Jesus Christ, kid,” Hargrave laughed as Jim floated into the shuttle. “You look like a microwave burrito!” Jim gave his XO a withering glare as he caught a handhold and swung clear of the hatch. He was wrapped in a thermal blanket and wore an oxygen mask, and he was infinitely glad he’d packed emergency gear on the alien ship. The atmosphere in the ship had become saturated with carbon dioxide two hours ago. Then it started to get cold. Really cold.

  “About fucking time,” Jim said, removing the mask. He reached inside the blanket, found Splunk’s head, and gently took off her mask. She didn’t respond, still deep asleep. A Sol System defense boat, almost as dilapidated as his wreck of a ship, had come over and pushed him clear of the emergence point, which was a good thing, because a huge MinSha ship arrived only an hour later. He didn’t know what happened when two ships occupied the same space, but guessed it wasn’t pretty. The crew of the patrol boat said a lot of alien ships were in system just then, and they were unable to provide any more assistance. Their ship didn’t have sufficient life support for even one more person.

  “Cut me some slack, kid. We’re still busy trying to organize Charlie Company.” Jim nodded but still mumbled as he floated and basked in the relative warmth of the shuttle. Hargrave rotated the door closed on the tiny airlock, cutting off the icy breeze from the crippled KzSha ship. “How’s your critter?” he asked and gestured at the lump in his blanket.

  “She’s fine,” he said. “Just tired.�
��

  “So, how’d it go?” While Jim got buckled into the copilot’s seat, he explained how the last part of the operation went on the KzSha world, including how they’d had dozens of nearly-new-looking Raknar. “You and those giant robots,” the older man grumbled. “But good on you helping the Aku the way you did.” He winked. “It won’t hurt having the Peacemakers owing us one.”

  “I don’t think the Peacemakers owe anyone anything ever,” Jim said. “They’re kind of like Judge Dredd meets Texas Rangers operating out of Galt’s Gulch.” Hargrave got that what the fuck are you talking about look on his face, and Jim sighed. Even though it would take a while to fly back to Earth, Jim didn’t want to spend it trying to explain a 20th century comic book and a 19th century novel to him. He figured the man already knew what the Texas Rangers were, at least. He wouldn’t have known about Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged either, if not for his school’s Mercenary Service Track (MST) having it as voluntary reading. The libertarian novel had helped many in the mostly liberal United States understand how the Galactic Union worked, at least a little.

  “Still, that was almost four months ago. What took so long?” Jim didn’t want to admit he’d been looking for more of the Raknars’ secrets. Finding that stash on the KzSha world had led him on a series of adventures that would take days to explain. That, and all the little tidbits he’d picked up here and there.

  “I’ve been here and there,” he said.

  Hargrave cast him a sidelong glance and grunted. “All buckled in?” He undocked from the derelict ship, fired up the ship’s engines, and the thrust pushed them into their seats as the shuttle pulled away. Jim thought back to the huge MinSha ship that’d come through not long after he transitioned into the Solar System.

  “There’re a lot of alien ships here,” he commented, repeating what he’d heard from the patrol boat’s crew.

  “I hadn’t noticed,” Hargrave replied. “Business has been busy, that’s for sure. Tons of contracts going off world, and a lot of casualties, as well.”

  “More than normal?”

  Hargrave thought for a moment as he verified their trajectory was nominal. “Maybe, possibly…” he shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s a dangerous job. A few companies are overdue. That’s unusual.” Jim screwed up his face as he considered the information. Splunk was quietly snoring against his side. He was finally warming up but didn’t want to get rid of the space blanket; she was asleep and obviously enjoying the warmth. Hargrave glanced at him and away a couple times.

  “What’s going on, Hargrave?”

  “You hear about your mom?”

  “Oh, that. Yeah.” Hargrave examined him. “My mother and I had a pretty bad relationship after what happened with the Cavaliers.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Well, her showing up at my hotel in Houston after we got back from Chimsa was really uncalled for.”

  “You got that restraining order then, right?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Do you know anything about how she died?”

  “No, son, sorry.” Jim nodded and listened to Splunk snore.

  * * *

  Jim contacted Adayn on the way down, and she was waiting at the Houston Spaceport when Jim and Hargrave landed. He said goodbye to Hargrave, and she drove him to their apartment in the control tower of what had formerly been the Houston Hobby airport.

  They hadn’t seen each other in months, and he was a little concerned she might feel differently about him. However, once they were in the apartment, and he’d settled Splunk into the little sleeping space made from a cat tower, she took him into their bedroom, dimmed the lights, and immediately began pulling his clothes off.

  “Don’t you want to talk first?” he asked.

  “Later,” she said huskily. He didn’t complain.

  Sometime later they lay in each other’s arms and chatted. He gave her the basics of his search for Raknar and the secrets of their operation. He’d confided in her long ago that he dreamed of Cartwright’s fielding an army of them. Splunk knew more about the machines than anyone, likely due to her amazing natural mechanical affinity. As always, she’d been supportive, at least of the idea, if not of his running off on the quest. She’d been sore when he’d left her behind.

  “Still no solid leads on more information?”

  “Just hints and innuendos,” he said and shrugged. “I thought I was on a lead at the end, paid a lot of credits for it, then I got…distracted.”

  “Distracted? Better not be another girl.”

  “I was on the far side of the galaxy. Little chance of that. No, it was this blind male MinSha tattoo artist.”

  She sat up in bed, the sheets falling away, and he admired the view. He completely missed the look on her face. “You got a tattoo?”

  “Yeah, don’t get mad.” He reached over, turned up the light partway, then pulled the sheet down. His ample belly was exposed, and he could just see the mostly healed lines of the tattoo like a matrix.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “It was on Aurora Station,” he said, and reached to his side to touch the spot. “It’s in the Centaur region of the Jesc arm. Heard of it?” She gave an almost imperceptible nod, her eyes scanning his stomach. Like always, nothing happened for a second, then a perfectly rendered Raknar sprang into existence. Not just any Raknar, but the one he’d fielded in the fight against the Canavar on Chimsa, complete with battleship cannons on both arms. These were the modernized versions with five-shot magazines, auto loaders and all. On the mecha’s breast was the Cartwright’s Cavaliers logo, and the other breast had a blue pony with wings and a rainbow mane.

  “Holy fuck,” she hissed. “Was the MinSha green?”

  This time it was Jim’s turn to sit up in surprise. On his gut, the Raknar moved to the side to avoid a fold. “How did you know that?” he demanded. She suddenly seemed to wake from a dream and shook her head.

  “I think I heard something somewhere,” she said. Jim’s eyes narrowed. She snatched up her communicator and looked at it. “Oh hell, your flight is in two hours. Go, go,” she urged and pushed him toward the shower. He complained that he wanted to know what she knew. “Later, dear, later. Come on, move it.” Grumbling, he deactivated the morphogenic tattoo and headed for the shower.

  An hour later she dropped him at the national flight terminal of the Houston Spaceport, handing him his overnight bag and a small padded shoulder bag. Gently folded inside was the still-sleeping Splunk, who had yet to wake up. Adayn had packed her a little water bottle and a pair of her favorite pepperoni packages.

  “Are you sure you want to go alone?” she asked after they’d kissed.

  “Yes,” he said, and she handed him the bags. He smiled as she reached in and gently smoothed the Fae’s extra-long ears back. Splunk cooed gently, her big eyes opening a crack behind her goggles before closing again. “Sorry, she hasn’t slept in seven days.”

  Adayn checked her arm slate, something she’d done a dozen times since they’d gotten out of bed. He looked at her curiously. “Buddha said a Cartwright auxiliary craft has your ship in tow. System defense is a little miffed, but being a Four Horseman has its advantages.”

  Mollified, he nodded. “Thanks again; I’ll be back in a day, two at the most.” She handed him a folder with tickets in it.

  “You get some sleep too, okay?”

  “I can sleep on the flight to Bangor.” He checked the overnight bag and saw she’d packed him two changes of clothes, toiletries, and a high-tech powered coat with a built-in heater. The forecast was for freezing rain and a brisk 30 degrees; it was a typical fall day. He got out of the car and turned to wave, but Adayn was already driving off. She seemed to be in a real hurry. As he walked into the terminal, he didn’t notice the young, pretty Asian woman watching him, her mouth moving but no sound coming out. An hour later he was in his first-class seat and, like his little friend, was fast asleep before they even got into the air.

  * * *

  Security proved
to be a major pain. The agents at Bangor International immediately pulled him aside. He’d been expecting a hard time over Splunk, still asleep in her bag. The female screening agent smiled when she saw the Fae, and Jim immediately handed her the computer chip holding her WFFA, World Flora, Fauna, and Alien registration clearance. He didn’t travel much on Earth because they drove him crazy about her.

  “James Eugene Cartwright the Second?” a man asked as soon as Jim entered the screening room. He looked at the group of men and women, immediately recognizing a collection of career bureaucrats and law enforcement wannabes. A few months ago, FedMart had laid off thousands after introducing alien-made service robots for many of the warehouse jobs. If these weren’t former stock clerks and truck drivers a few weeks ago, he’d eat a CASPer.

  “That’s my name.”

  “Care to explain this?” the same man asked and placed Jim’s carry bag on the table. It was unzipped, and Jim’s GP-90 in its holster/belt rig was clearly visible. Jim laughed. “You find this funny?”

  “Sure do,” he said and put his UAAC on the table next to the bag. Jim Cartwright—Commander—Cartwright’s Cavaliers was embossed on its side. The man picked it up and looked at it before placing it on a slate. The Universal Account Access Card, or Yack as it was commonly called, contained all of Jim’s vital information, as well as allowed him to move funds from his personal and business accounts.

  The slate interfaced with the card, and a Tri-V hologram appeared in the air, a rotating image of the Galactic Mercenary Guild. Most of the others looked uncertain now, but the speaker bristled.