The Crimson War: A Space Opera: Book Three of The Shadow Order Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Mailing List

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  About the Author

  Other Authors Under the Sheild of Phalanx Press

  The Crimson War

  (Book Three of The Shadow Order)

  By

  Michael Robertson

  Newsletter:

  Michael Robertson’s Mailing List

  Email: [email protected]

  Edited by:

  Terri King - http://terri-king.wix.com/editing

  And

  Pauline Nolet - http://www.paulinenolet.com

  Cover Design by Dusty Crossley

  The Crimson War

  Michael Robertson

  © 2017 Michael Robertson

  The Crimson War is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, situations, and all dialogue are entirely a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not in any way representative of real people, places or things.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Would you like to be notified when The Shadow Order Book Four becomes available? Join my mailing list for all of my updates here:-

  MAILING LIST

  Chapter One

  Had he not known the palace existed, Seb would have struggled to see its dark silhouette on the horizon. But he knew it existed. He knew it all too well, and he’d be going back there soon.

  The spire stood as a toxic needle loaded with poison and piercing the sky, spreading its venom through every millimetre of Solsans. It stood taller than anything else in the city. Already on the elevated part of Caloon—seemingly miles above the slums below it—it shot up five, maybe ten, times higher than the next tallest building.

  To look at the Crimson Palace clamped a rock of anxiety in Seb’s stomach. Anxiety and guilt. He’d left the boy-soldiers behind when he’d escaped. He’d left without confronting the Countess, but he couldn’t leave Solsans without doing something about her. The Crimson bitch needed to be overthrown.

  A deep breath did little to relax him and Seb continued to grind his jaw as the suffering of the pitiful city ran through his mind. The boys slaughtering their families … the poverty in the slums … the fires to make it seem like the Crimson fleet protected the city rather than subjugated it.

  Seb turned his back on the inky silhouette in the distance. He’d deal with the Countess when he got to her.

  The ship he’d taken from the hangar shone like a mirror, the reflection of the large full moon a spotlight on its metal body. Highly polished chrome, the only marks on it came from Seb’s crash landing. It showed just how little action the Crimson fleet saw. Shaped like an arrowhead, it had a sharp point of a nose and a wide back.

  The trench the ship had cut into the moist earth ran about a metre deep. The air stank of pine and soil from the carnage of Seb’s landing. Mist hung thick around him and clung to his skin like sweat. A permanently dark, damp, and cold planet, he could already feel the atmosphere working its insidious way into his joints. The frigid reach of Solsans sent a dull ache through his bones.

  If Seb remained still for too long, he’d grind to a halt. He walked over to the ship and looked at the solid chrome back of it. There were three buttons on the outside: two red and one green. Because it had been open when he stole it from the hangar, he didn’t know which button to press. Logic told him the green one, so he reached out and touched it.

  What had looked like a solid wall split and a ramp eased slowly out of the back of the ship. Seb stepped out of its way and watched it unfurl like a large chrome tongue.

  Seb’s footsteps gave out a gentle tock when he walked up the metal steps and entered the back of the vessel.

  What little light Seb had to see by came from the full moon above. Since he’d been on Solsans, he’d not noticed a single cloud and the moon had always been a large and perfectly formed orb—at least he’d have enough light to guide him. Although it did nothing to penetrate the deep shadows lurking inside the ship.

  Because of his haste to get away from the palace, Seb now took in the back of the vessel for the first time. From what he could see, it looked about big enough to accommodate four humans. It could fit more—many more—but there only seemed to be seating for four.

  The hard walls inside the ship threw the sound of Seb’s heavy breaths back at him. Apart from that, he heard nothing else.

  The gap where the back door had opened allowed in a splash of moonlight. It showed Seb a small drawer in one of the walls. When he pulled it open, it screeched as if nearly rusted shut. The raking, scratchy sound pulled his shoulders to his neck.

  At first Seb couldn’t make out what had rolled forward. A dark lump, he pulled it from the drawer, squinting in the poor light as he held it up. It seemed like … A flick of the switch and a magnesium glare of torchlight flooded his vision. It blinded him and he dropped it. The loud bang of it hitting the ship’s floor went off in the still forest like a gunshot.

  It took several blinks and a lot of rubbing his eyes for Seb to regain his sight. He bent down, picked up the torch, and pointed it around the inside of the ship.
The glare from the bright chrome threw the torchlight straight back at him, forcing him to squint.

  When he turned the light on one corner, Seb nearly dropped the torch again and stumbled backwards. He shook, the torchlight wobbling in his grip, but he kept it pointing out in front of him as if aiming a blaster at an enemy.

  Not that the torch would do anything against the figure staring back at him.

  Chapter Two

  The figure stood taller than Seb by a couple of feet. At least eight feet tall, it looked like it had died some time ago. Locked tight from rigor mortis, its wide mouth hung open in a silent scream as if it had been in agony when it passed. From the look of the cuts and welts on its skin, it most probably had.

  Seb ran the torchlight up and down the length of the creature’s body. Although it looked slightly human, it had longer limbs and a shorter torso than anyone he’d met. Its wrists were bound and tied to the ceiling above its head, and its shoulders twisted upwards from bearing its weight. Its ankles had also been tied together like its wrists and were anchored to something on the floor. It had dark blue, almost purple skin. Maybe its natural hue, maybe bruising from how hard it had been beaten by whoever had done this to it.

  Now his heart rate had settled down a little, Seb focused his torchlight on the thing’s torso. Deep gashes ran across it from where it had clearly been whipped with something. A look to the floor and he saw what appeared to be a fuel hose coated with dried blood and chunks of cured flesh. Whatever this thing had done, it had pissed someone off. No doubt the Countess had something to do with it.

  Seb grew braver with each passing second. A corpse couldn’t hurt him, right? He stepped a pace towards the inanimate creature. Then he heard it. Faint, almost imperceptible, it sounded like breathing.

  Seb’s pulse raced again, but he didn’t step back. His voice, although no more than a whisper, echoed in the near silence of the abandoned ship. “A-are y-y-you okay?”

  Other than the slight breaths in and out, the creature didn’t respond.

  “Excuse me,” Seb said, a warble in his voice as he spoke a little louder. “Are you okay?”

  Still nothing.

  He had to cut it down.

  Because the creature stood taller than him, Seb had to press up against it as he reached up to untie its wrists. Now closer to the thing, he turned his face to the side. It did little to help him avoid the tang of rotting flesh. This thing had been kept alive long enough for its deep wounds to get infected and curdle. Its breath came out as a slight push of warmth against Seb’s face and it smelled like a disease.

  Although he’d initially looked away when he reached up for the creature’s bindings, Seb had to focus on them if he were to free it. He put the torch in his mouth—biting down on the end to hold it in place—and looked up.

  The torchlight shone on the long face of the creature. It had huge nostrils and a wide fish-like mouth. Suddenly, the thing’s eyes flew open and it gasped.

  Seb jumped backwards, stumbling for a couple of paces before he fell and landed on his arse. The hard metal floor sent a shock up his spine that threw stars across his vision.

  The long-limbed creature—livid, confused, and tortured—thrashed against its restraints. Seb remained on the floor, shaking from the adrenaline surging through him as he watched the wild beast. He fumbled around for his torch and shone it at the thing, careful not to blind it.

  The alien stared at Seb through wide orange eyes. “I’m not lying,” it said, its words quick and breathless, its gaze flitting around the ship as if seeing if there were any others. “I didn’t steal anything. I didn’t give anyone any information.”

  Seb didn’t reply, his throat dry, his body paralysed with fear.

  “I don’t know how a memory stick got taken from here. I don’t know what happened.”

  Seb lowered his torch so it shone on the creature’s stomach and stood up. “It’s okay,” he said. “I have nothing to do with the Crimson Countess. I stole this ship from her and found you in the back. Let me cut you down.”

  “No,” the creature said.

  “No?”

  A twist ran through its face and its orange glare hazed over. Tears swelled in its eyes before they ran down its stretched cheeks. The fear had left it, and its voice came out as a whimper. “Look at me.”

  Seb looked at it.

  “Do you think I’ll recover from this? I’m in agony. I feel like every wound’s infected.”

  The more it moved, the more it disturbed the smell of rotting flesh. Seb could have sworn he heard the tacky squelch of its wounds. “We can get you cleaned up,” he said. “Treat your cuts.” His hands buzzed as if he wanted to reach out and touch the thing.

  The creature breathed heavily and shook its head. “There isn’t any treating me.”

  “Why are you here? What happened to you?”

  “The Countess … someone stole information on where the prisoners were kept and it happened on my watch. She’s been torturing me for weeks now. Whether I had anything to do with it or not, she wanted to make an example of me so no one else would make the same mistake.”

  At a loss for words, Seb released a deep exhale and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  It wouldn’t do any good to tell it he’d been in possession of the memory stick. Why inflict that final torture on the wretched beast?

  “Please,” the creature said, “just kill me.” It looked down at the blaster in Seb’s pocket. He still wore the ridiculous tan flight suit, and while it had an abundance of pockets and pouches, none of them could conceal the weapon.

  “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can.” The creature fought for breath and winced again. It closed its eyes and clenched its jaw. A few seconds later, it reopened its eyes as if the pain had eased a little. “What you mean is you won’t. Can’t suggests you don’t have a choice. Please, end this hell and send me over to the other side. I can’t take any more of this.”

  And what could Seb say to that? How could he deny the creature’s very real right to an execution.

  It took for Seb to hold the blaster up and point it at the poor thing to realise just how much he shook. If he didn’t focus, he could miss it. Even at point-blank range. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You’re doing what I’m asking of you. Don’t be sorry. Thank you.”

  After a deep breath, Seb winced and pulled the trigger. The weapon kicked and sent out a red blast that burned straight into the centre of the creature’s face.

  The tall being fell instantly limp and a caustic stench of seared flesh filled the air.

  Although the first shot had clearly killed it, Seb kept the blaster raised and trained on the flaccid figure. He’d had too many surprises on this planet to take anything for granted.

  Chapter Three

  The silence soon overwhelmed Seb, and although he stared at the creature for a short time and kept his gun pointed at it, it still didn’t move. A hole in the face tended to be a hard thing to recover from.

  Seb slipped the blaster into one of his large—but not large enough to contain it—pockets, and resumed his search of the ship.

  It revealed just a few items. Seb found a lighter, a backpack, and a tub of wax pebbles. Close to leaving the pebbles behind, he then caught a whiff of them. The strong paraffin reek forced his face back as if it had dealt him a physical blow, and he scrunched his nose up. They smelled like a fuel of some sort and were undoubtably flammable. Maybe he could use them.

  After shining his torch around the ship several times to check every possible nook and cranny, flinching every time he cast a light on the corpse, Seb shrugged. The vessel had nothing more to offer him. He took a few of the pebbles from the small plastic pot and dropped them in the ship’s entryway. Ten at the most, it barely made a dent in the supply. He sealed the tub back up and slipped the pot into his newly acquired backpack with his blaster.

  Once outside the ship, Seb sho
ne the torch around him. The light animated the trees’ shadows, but it revealed little else. Surely someone would come and investigate his crash landing soon. And with the deep groove he’d cut into the ground, they had something to follow that would lead them straight to it.

  Now he stood outside, a small distance away from the dead creature, Seb shone his torch on it and stared at the twisted thing. A little easier to look at the beast from a distance, he shook his head to himself. His dad had been naive to think he could live a life without fighting. In a galaxy where beings like the Countess existed, there would always be a need to fight.

  A tug on each strap of his backpack and Seb rolled his shoulders to make sure it sat flat against him. He then stepped towards the ship’s entrance, reached down to one of the waxy pebbles with his lighter, and struck up a flame.

  The flame transferred to the pebbles almost instantly and spread across the line of them. It weaved, snake-like, as it moved from side to side on top of the white and flammable substance, but it didn’t do much else. Yet.

  Seb stepped back into the thick growth of trees surrounding him, his torch in one hand and his lighter in the other.

  Once he’d moved about twenty metres from the ship, the wax pebbles glowed a magnesium glare. Seb sped up his retreat.

  About fifty metres clear, Seb heard a loud whoosh. A second later the vessel lit up. A sonic boom and the entire thing leapt into the air, glowing like a sun as it hovered for a second above the fierce flames about three metres from the ground.

  It crashed back down with another loud boom!

  “Damn,” Seb said to himself, the heat from the explosion blowing his hair back and shaking the branches on the densely packed trees around him. “Damn,” he repeated. Now he understood why the slums burned like they did when the Countess dropped her bombs on them.

  A quick scan of his surroundings, the air smelling of pine and smoke, and Seb moved off towards the slums. If his crash landing didn’t get anyone’s attention, the small star he’d just ignited certainly would.