Star Guild: Episodes 1 - 3 (Star Guild Saga) Read online

in nineteen seconds and if she exited her cockpit now, the initial impact of her Thunderbird against the torpedoes would kill her anyway. And if not, the waves that followed would.

  Seventeen seconds.

  She gunned it, putting as much force against the throttle as she could. If she wasn't about to use her Thunderbird as a weapon against the blue orbs of destruction, then the upper “G's” she had just put herself through would end her, rushing too much blood to her heart and causing a massive rupture.

  Eleven seconds.

  Two silver egg-shaped orbs, as big as her Thunderbird, appeared on each side of her. They were shining, as if they were the two most polished things in the universe. She knew she was hallucinating, a symptom of too much stress on her body.

  Six seconds until impact.

  She let go of the control stick, placing her hands on her heart and squeezing her eyes shut. Through her eyelids, all around her became more and more blue. The torpedoes would hit at any second and she welcomed it.

  ∞

  On the vid screen, surrounding Brigantia's bridge, they saw two unknown spacecraft blip into view. They had all been watching quietly, sadness consuming them, waiting for Eden to do her damage on the torpedoes, and in the process ending her own life, when two spacecrafts jumped in on each side of Eden's Thunderbird. Both objects were egg shaped and silver.

  A blue flash filled the bridge’s vid screen a moment later, immediately causing a stir within the crew. The torpedoes had detonated, surely saving Matrona and killing their most skilled pilot, the commander of all of Brigantia’s pilots. Eden was gone.

  Gasps, cries, and shouts rumbled throughout the crew on the bridge as the vid screen displayed an aura of blue moving outward, a wave heading toward Starbase Matrona. Eden's Thunderbird was gone, incinerated with no trace, as if it had just disappeared. The two egg shaped ships were gone as well. It was either a strange suicide mission, or they had simply jumped in at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  The admiral dropped his gaze to the floor, grief overwhelming him and causing him to forget all about the silver egg-shaped craft. He stiffened, holding in a cry and doing his best to be strong for the crew. He cleared his throat, bellowing out a muffled order.

  When no one understood, he cleared his throat again, muttering, “Excuse me.” He fidgeted with his hands, then finally said, “Turn the Thunderbirds back around. Head them toward the remaining enemy craft. This isn't over yet.”

  “Admiral!” screamed Brigger, prompting both Admiral Byrd and Captain Stripe to turn and face him. “The enemy starfighters are retreating!”

  “Why?” asked Captain Stripe, crossing the room to look at Brigger's HDC, clearly thinking that Brigger was interpreting something incorrectly.

  Brigger pressed a couple buttons on his HDC, and then pointed to the vid screen encircling the bridge. “Look.”

  “What? How?” The Admiral stared at the screen, rubbing his hands over his face and then folding his arms. The screen had zoomed in on the location of the enemy pyramids, showing debris spread out in all directions. The pyramids weren't gone by their own accord; they had been destroyed by something…or by someone.

  Captain Stripe put her hands up into the air in exasperation. “What the hell?! Did they just destroy themselves?”

  Brigger shook his head. “Something hit them from these coordinates. They—” he paused, smiling. “The attacking starfighters are now blipping out, sir.”

  “Show me,” replied the Admiral. A smile crept onto his face, too, when the vid screen changed from the killed pyramids to the attacking starfighters individually lighting up like stars, collapsing into themselves and jumping out of the system, probably heading to another starship they could dock on.

  Admiral Byrd walked over and stood next to Captain Stripe, arms crossed, speaking somewhat over his shoulder. “Eden saved us.”

  “Aye, Admiral. She lives forever among the stars now.”

  “She's the brightest star among them.” He placed his hand on Captain Stripes’ shoulder, squeezing it. “Take over and prepare us to dock on Matrona. I'll be in my quarters preparing for The Prime.”

  “Shouldn't we give Starship Taranis coordinates to Starbase Matrona, so we can all jump and rendezvous with Admiral Jenkyns?”

  The admiral looked at the clock that had been counting down when Taranis would jump coordinates again. They had 4 hours left. “Yes, when we get to Matrona, we give the starbase the coordinates. We'll be docked inside of Matrona when she jumps, taking all of us with her. Understood?”

  The captain nodded her head and then saluted her admiral. “Aye, Admiral.” She turned, taking over the command chair as Admiral Byrd walked out of the bridge. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to dock with Matrona.”

  ∞

  Admiral Byrd sat in a large meeting room, leaning his back against a hard chair. A long table sat in the middle, with a gigantic bowl of fruit set in the middle of it. The room was surrounded with green plants hanging from the walls, vines climbing to the ceiling, flowers budding everywhere. A nice, bright and calming light came through the translucent ceiling, giving the room a certain glow, as much for the plants as it was for the personnel—who were about to join him.

  He rubbed his hands together. They were cold and damp. He hadn't felt this way since his final exams at the Star Guild Academy, which was a little over a hundred and twenty years ago. Here, in one of Matrona's meeting rooms, he was sitting in a room where the Prime Director delivered his speeches, which were filmed over the holovids and broadcast to everyone on Matrona and to what was once a large fleet. Those times, which may come again, were at this moment, abandoned. Only two starships remained, Taranis and Brigantia. Today this room was going to be what it was supposed to be, a meeting room.

  The admiral immediately stood to attention as several officials of the governance walked into the room. He counted them, knowing them each by name, and saw that all twelve of them were present. One gave him a nod, a man named Chase, the youngest official of the group. He was a political figure and he was the son of his deceased brother. Three armed soldiers from the Matrona Guard entered next, with phasers pointed directly at the admiral. They positioned themselves against the adjacent wall with phasers still aimed at him.

  Stunned by the sight of the armed military personnel, the admiral glared at the next person joining the group, and that was the Prime Director, all 7 feet, 7 inches of him. Something was up, something that shouldn’t be happening at a time like this—when hundreds of thousands were dead. Was he being relieved of his duty? If so, why with guns? For the first time in his career, he wished he had brought his phaser with him.

  Admiral Byrd gestured toward the military personnel. “What the hell is going on, Prime?”

  The Prime Director, Zim Nocki, also known just as “The Prime”, made Admiral Byrd's large 6 feet, 5 inch frame seem insignificant. Zim was a beast, as thick in muscle as he was tall. He was charismatic, with a voice to match, and his face was beautiful, chiseled where it needed to be, and always gleaming with a shine. He was perfect for his high position in governance, just above the Fleet Admiral in Star Guild. Zim had a tendency of saying the right things at the right time, and doing the right things at the right time. He had been elected over twenty years ago, maintaining his position by winning each political race held for the last two decades. He never aged a bit, which was baffling for an official, since it was one of the most high stress jobs in the population.

  Approaching the admiral, Zim's hand turned into a fist, and slammed against Admiral Byrd's stomach, crumpling him over. Zim held Admiral Byrd's curled body for a moment, then tossed him back into his chair like a whipped dog.

  Wheezing, Admiral Byrd leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the edge of the table. He gulped a couple of times and coughed several more, then tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  Zim casually grabbed an apple, and sat across from him. He leaned back in a chair, placing his feet on the table. Taking
a bite and crunching it hard for everyone to hear, he spoke, “What the hell am I doing?” He laughed, his face reddening. “You left us high and dry, Admiral! The question should be, 'what the hell were you doing'! You left us to die, you son-of-a-bitch! I should have you removed from your position, immediately! If I had it my way, I would have you shot!” He shook his head. “You abandoned us.”

  The admiral, regaining back his breath, lifted his eyes above the edge of the table. “I had no choice, Zim. We had to leave. My fleet was getting destroyed.” He sat up in his seat, facing the Prime Director. “Lieutenant Brigger patched through the coordinates to the entire fleet, including Starbase Matrona.”

  Zim dropped his feet and leaned forward, slapping the table with his hand. “We received no such communication, Admiral! And, if we did, you should have waited until you saw Matrona jump! You risked millions of lives!” He waved his hand, motioning for the other officials of the governance to join them at the table. Admiral Byrd had almost forgotten about them. As they took their seats, one of them nodded to him. She was an old friend, Overseer Savanna Levens and he was glad for her presence. She was the overseer of Sphere 6 on Matrona and it contained the biosphere. No doubt the plants in the room were taken care of by her office in the governance.

  She spoke up,