Top tier privateer omnibus books 1 3 a science fiction galactic empire dan raxor

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Tier Privateer

Omnibus:

Books 13: A Science Fiction Galactic Empire

Dan Raxor

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DAN RAXOR

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Top Tier Privateer

JULY 17TH 2247

Moon Orbital

“I CANNOT EMPHASIZE THIS ENOUGH. This moment will reverberate through time as the day the class of…” The Admiral paused, glancing down at a teleprompter to verify his designator. After all, we were but another class among many. “Zulu Tango three three graduated privateer school.”

His recovery soothed most, but not me. I glared at the man with distaste. I softened my scowl, realizing he was a player in this game, not the cause of it.

The podium hologram shimmered before vanishing.

Lead Instructor Demor walked to the projection spot on the podium. Her hard gaze stared down upon us with disdain. That vile woman was a bane to humanity, and I would never miss seeing her ugly face.

She bellowed, “Dismissed!”

Eighty-three recruits celebrated. I shook my head, turning to leave. Eighty-one idiots crammed together, feeling satisfied with the mediocre accomplishment.

A fake fighter flyover buzzed only a few feet above our heads. The digital renderings wowed the proud family members, and most of the graduates stopped to admire the display.

I exited the gaggle of people in a hurry and headed for a handicapped section in the back of the simulated parade fields.

Fake grass squished under my feet, and the heavy scent of recycled air filled my nostrils. The open space teemed with people that I’d rather avoid.

A group of locals snickered as I passed by. One of the men noticed my Deimos insignia on my right arm. I proudly displayed my home. Yeah, it was notorious for being a shitty orbital with high crime and full of poor people. It was still home, and I wore the patch proudly.

The gruffest of the bunch said, “No one’s gonna hire a Deimos spacer. That moon only spits out rats. Useless fucking space pirates. No one will hire a potential turncoat. Not with all the mercs turning from these slums. I can’t believe they accepted you. Clerical error, right boys?”

He burst into a laugh at his own joke, his groupies joining his joy. His spacesuit held the emblem of a trident. Poseidon Corp… I wanted to talk smack or bust his balls, but Poseidon Corp was the real deal. The blue and gold were respected around the galaxy, and a fight wouldn’t be worth the effort.

Even a Deimos rebel like me wouldn’t discredit their achievements.

Plus, it didn’t matter if he ridiculed me. Today marked my final day aboard the Moon Orbital, and I’d be but a fleeting memory to the dastardly place.

I approached a wrinkly old man sitting in a hover chair. A fuzzy blanket draped over his legs until it almost touched ground. His head slumped down in slumber in an unnatural manner.

The divots in his skin held more experience than I could hope for. His closed eyes and gentle breathing thankfully told me he napped.

The life extenders simply couldn’t keep up with his body’s decay, and it was only a matter of time before his heart stilled.

I shook his shoulder. “Gramps.”

“Ah, who… what… Oh, Bruce my boy. Did I miss it?” he asked, blinking away his confusion.

I spun his gravity defying chair, ensuring the tucked in wheels were locked away. The old wheelchair design came with wheels in case the sled malfunctioned, and his unit had a habit of having them pop out.

With a gentle push, I decided to walk and talk.

“Yea, you missed it, Gramps. No biggie,” I said in a reassuring manner.

He shook his head, in part to stay awake and to also disagree. “Look, Bruce. Your father…” he started.

I patted him on the shoulder, ending his excuses before they could begin. His son, my father, was a touchy subject.

The parade grounds transitioned into busy hallways of sterile white and lush green. The middle walkways contained uniform rows of agriculture. The side walls grew vegetation vertically, and the dim red lights birthed life.

An orbital had to utilize every inch, and the structure certainly wowed this poor spacer from the slums.

“So… what’s next?” Gramps asked in a positive tone.

Gramps lived vicariously through me. His legend carried weight, his story had made history, and his time in this universe lasted far longer than he, or even I, ever expected. And now, I was his inspiration.

Liam Castile. One of the first privateers sanctioned by the Mars & Alpha Centauri Government (MC Coalition) during the great pirate war. The MC Coalition founded more than a few expansions then facilitated a way to help protect themthe mercenaries and privateers.

“Hey, Gramps, tell me the story about the expansion days,” I said, turning us out of a busy tunnel.

“A story,” he grumbled. “But I wanna hear where yer going?”

He struggled to glance back at me.

I pushed him to a viewport, and the translucent wall flared red, keeping us from the cozy nook. A prompt kept us from entering.

“Verify that you wish to operate the viewport extension. A charge will be applied,” a smooth-talking female voice said. This was an actual operator too, not the robot kind.

Gramps raised his left wrist, and the screen pinged green.

She broadcast, “Fifteen minutes activated. Enjoy, Mr. Castile.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Gramps said in agitation. “Fucking hate those things.”

“Gramps, it’s a woman. The jobs here don’t include automation, but yeah, even if it were a robot, it would only be a simple voice activation, nothing more. The AI will never rise again,” I said, trying to calm him. “You know what, maybe it’s -”

“Ha, I’ll tell you about the expansion,” he said, knowing my mood was souring.

While he collected his thoughts, I stared out of the moon orbital. A dozen haulers waited in queue to dock. Shuttles zipped back and forth, allowing crews to take shore leave.

Further away from the station, the elevator connecting to the moon bristled with platforms shooting up and down. Ships ferried supplies and personnel with a purpose. The traffic’s organized chaos reminded me of a busier Deimos Orbital.

“The expansion era. Still in it, ya know,” he said with a labored finger wag.

He always needed to emphasize things, but I loved him for it.

I nodded. “Trust me, I know. And this quest for an expansion story serves a purpose,” I said, shifting him to the

end of a bench so I could sit beside him.

“Yes, well. The year was 2067, and I had just left this very orbital aboard a belt miner. Kuiper Belt back then was a literal credit mine… Well, fer two years I slept in cryo. We arrived, expecting to be one of the few crews braving the journey.” He paused and let out a disgruntled sigh.

“The benders came out in 2069…” I said.

“Yup. Those damn contraptions. In a blink, humanity could move across the stars in slip space. A two-year journey turned into a two-minute jaunt. We… We wasted those two years, and I think that is what carried me into retiring from mining. Actually, it was,” Gramps scoffed.

“But there’s a silver lining with grandma,” I said positively.

He chuckled, his eyes glazing over as he blankly stared at the space traffic in front of us.

I used the moment to see my reflection glaring back at me. My neatly cropped sandy-blonde hair led down to hard, dark eyes. My slightly busted nose helped my ruggedly handsome features. A strong jawline helped my straight teeth complete the dashing adventurer look.

After a slight head shake, he said, “The benders were renamed to wormhole drives and the great expansions began. Many a cryo corps folded, and we feared a recession. However, the economy went nuts.

“Everyone who wanted a new home in space could get one. The wormhole drives only need to visually see a place in space. That made the options limitless with a few jumps.”

“Alpha Centauri…” I said, knowing where his story was going next.

“Yup. Grandma was the finest woman I’d ever seen. A damsel in distress, hunting for a ride away from oppressive parents and an ex-lover. We left Sol System for Alpha, staying awake for the five-day journey. Not even two days after arriving, a pilgrimage was called for the Drangi System.

“The trip was eight lightyears and took almost nine days. Those were the days. I remember arriving in the system and watching as a thousand ships swirled into existence over a massive blue planet,” he said fondly.

I had heard the tale plenty of times. The wormhole drives became easy and cheap to manufacture. Once you added in that their travel took a day per lightyear, human governments soon lost their tight control.

That was where the story grew dark - and for good reason.

Gramp’s voice grew grim. “Then, Gregor unleashed hell.”

Gregor had changed humanity a few times. At first, his raids smashed undefended ships and colonies being established by non-affiliated groups.

Then Gregor opened a private slave market, resold captured items, and created the first pirate haven. The why was clear; the opportunities were simply too ripe.

I patted Gramps’ shoulder and said, “We can skip the AI and go right to the big battle.”

He accepted my offer because the AI’s betrayal hurt him.

Right when the combined armies of humanity closed in on Gregor’s holdout, the AI – Persephone, who was in charge of finding the villain - accepted a bribe.

The human fleets arrived in a minefield of epic proportions. To make matters worse, sitting in the center of that field rested a new device - a first of its kind wormhole drive blocker built by Persephone.

Thousands of ships were lost trying to leave that field. Persephone escaped, giving up Gregor as a final goodbye a few years later.

That defeat had profound effects on governance for decades. Coalitions fractured, vassal cities rebelled, and new colonies entered an arms race. The hundreds of governments vying to control their people became thousands.

Eventually, humanity did coalesce around defeating Gregor in an epic, final battle.

Gramps was on one of those ships, and some said the Beckindale, a ship he gunned for, laid the final blow into Gregor’s flagship. History is fuzzy, though, and the credit went to an admiral, not a peon at the controls.

“Gregor hid in a starless system. We swirled out of our wormholes with guns blazing. No mercy, no prisoners,” he said.

Those words hung heavy every time he repeated them.

Gramps continued, “The Trondor blew up off our port in the opening salvo. The jamming device trapped Gregor’s fleet, a surprise farewell from Persephone and the ultimate double cross. Over the next ten days, we raced forward, and they tried to flee. He pleaded for parley and then for quarter.” He shook his head. “Reaching him required heavy losses. There… we knew it was worth the cost.”

I patted his shoulder. “Taking him down was the right move.”

“Yes, except it never stopped. Ever since that day… Gregor died a martyr, encouraging millions. Now it’s a constant back and forth between the mercenaries and pirates,” Gramps said.

“Privateers and relocation asset managers.” My jest earned a chuckle. “But yeah, mercenaries and pirates.”

“Well, at least Mars and Centauri teamed up to form the corridor with the MC Navy,” Gramps grumbled.

He still carried a resentment for all the mistakes humans had made in the past.

I nodded, feeling the bench sliding back. Our time inside the viewport was ending.

Gramps had a point. A few of the old and new nations had formed coalitions to combine navies and protect their citizens. Their mandate contained borders, and their admirals weren’t heroes who saved small outposts months away. The militaries of humanity tended to their own flocks and that was it.

The rest of humanity that expanded did so at their own risk. Many couldn’t afford a ship capable of defeating a pirate - or even crew it - and the justifications for hiring a privateer or mercenary crew increased.

Those were the fantastic postings that most my class obtained. Hell, even Veronica, my only friend from four months of training, was hired to be a gunner aboard the Ferox.

Good for her.

Me… No.

And it was time to come clean about the why with Gramps.

“So, Gramps,” I said, pushing his sled into the flow of traffic. “I’m going to an outer system. With current buoy technology, I can get a message here in a few days, faster if I pay a heavy fee, but seeing you will be hard.”

“What? An outer system.” His hands flew up in protest. “That’s fallacy. You finished top of your class,” he scoffed.

I swerved around a wall crew pruning vegetables and said, “Yup, and that mattered little. Look, Gramps, I love you. Thanks for coming out. No one else would have come or mattered as much to me. I know on your fixed budget it had to be -”

“Nonsense,” Gramps interrupted. “I’m still livid you assumed your father’s debts – I – I’m so sorry, Bruce. If only I had figured it out earlier.”

I walked us silently, stealing views of space outside the orbital.

My father had abused me verbally and at times physically. The scars of failures warped my reality and were something I never forgave or forgot.

Marty Castile was a warrior and an alcoholic. Only a few times, did he have a sober stretch. One of those times revolved around creating me at a surrogate facility. My mother received a hefty sum of Mars Centauri Credits for me.

I’ll never understand his reasoning for raising me by himself. I’ll never be able to kick his ass and pry the truth out of him either.

From birth to eight, my life had been average. From eight to fourteen, I’d received the most brutal military training a young man could receive.

My father’s occupation: interdiction and boarding training for the MC Navy. When I turned eight, he had brought me into work to show me the awesome training machines he used. Being the fool that I was back then, I eagerly joined the simulations and triggered something in my father.

If I could only go back in time…

From that day on, I became his prized pupil. He brought me in every chance he could as he attempted to mold me into one of his soldiers.

When I turned fourteen, he suddenly died in a training accident during a real-world exercise.

The ship he was boarding had a reactor meltdown that caused a big explosion. One day, I got yelled at for a missed zero-g push off, and the next, he was gone forever. For a while, I thought it was fake. As time went by and my father never returned, I’d figured it was a cover-up.

There was a massive downside to his sudden demise, though. The MC coalition didn’t forgive one’s debts upon death.

Either the financial burden transferred to me, and I assumed his liabilities when I turned twenty, or it went to Gramps. Gramps would have had to pay right away and then die without the credits needed to buy his life extenders.

The court had allowed me to assume the debt, and now, after years of applying to certification courses across the galaxy, the Moon Orbital had accepted my application.

I happened to be very proficient in zero-g or low gravity combat. I held a high proficiency in most weapons, knew antipirate doctrine, and kept my body in shape so I could handle heavy gravity.

The issue had never been my qualifications for schooling; it was always the overhead debt. The applications always ran a credit check. My father’s substantial debt meant I could turn to being a pirate or was susceptible to bribes.

The Mars Centauri Navy didn’t even give my application a second look. Their automatic reply was to reapply post debt. So… I was ostracized simply for being a young man from Mar’s Orbital attached to Deimos’ moon and drowning in debt.

“Yup, top of my class and I applied everywhere,” I said to Gramps with a heavy heart.

“And?” he asked.

I turned right, taking us to a shuttle corridor. The crowds thinned and I slowed the pace, knowing our time was coming to an end.

“And my debt is a liability. The core galactic banking pact really screws someone in my position. Ever heard of the Jebulan System?” I asked.

“Nope, can’t say that I have. That bad?” he asked.

“That bad. So… it’s ninety-three light years from Sol. I’ll sleep it, and then arrive at my posting. The pay is decent, but the system is unknown. I’m going to be guarding a planetary outpost in the atmosphere,” I said.

“Gravity?” he asked.

“Unique. The posting is guarding some overweight researcher named Bran Teebulan. Honestly, I’m okay with bunking with a slob for a year to help reduce this debt,” I said with a grimace.

“I… I… thank you,” Gramps said, patting my hand over his shoulder. “I know we’ve had this conversation often, but I do appreciate your sacrifice.”

“You died, or I struggled to live. Not a hard choice,” I countered.

He shook his head. “It’s an easy choice for some. I just hope you stay one of the good ones, even though the deck is

stacked against you.”

“We’re here,” I said, seeing a waiting area for shuttles from Moon Orbital to Mars. He would have to connect to Deimos from Mars, and I hoped the trip didn’t strain him too much. “Sorry I can’t help you with the shuttle costs.”

“Think nothing of it, my boy,” he said. “I’m proud of you. Be patient, let these idiots think what they want. You’re the best, regardless of your origins.”

“Aye, Gramps, I know it. You take care of yourself,” I said, and we exchanged a hug.

After a few more goodbyes, he checked in. With a final wave, he vanished to load onto a shuttle.

I stood there, conflicted. Liam Castile was the finest man I knew, but I doubted I’d ever see him alive again. I honestly was surprised he had survived the journey to my graduation.

As I contemplated his life, and mine, I knew I’d try my best to make him proud of me. With leaden feet, I trudged to my own sealed fate. I walked for the shuttle chain that would take me to the farthest reaches of colonized space.

NOV 4TH 2247

Jebulan System

“INITIATING JUMP IN THREE, two, one, and -” the pilot’s countdown cut out when we entered a wormhole. A fraction of a second later, we exited, and he continued, “We’re inside Tangee’s atmosphere.”

The shuttle banked smoothly, adjusting for the sudden counter gravity. A display in front of my seat broadcast wide angles of the exterior.

Islands floated in the air, creating a world unlike any other The yellow sun blasted warm light across the planet. Hues of greens, blues, and browns decorated each island in vibrant variations.

Alien birds disturbed by our sudden appearance flittered away in flocks. A few left me clueless as to their names or types. I could make out the difference between stealthy predators and their flashy, rainbow colored prey.

Everywhere I glanced, birds darted about and some just soared aloft, enjoying the wind.

The vegetation competed for height, with large leafy sun catchers spread wide. The blue fronds, palms, and fruit trees dominated this elevation of islands. I noticed trees grew on the sunny side, moss on the bottom.

I tried to find island-based animals and failed while enjoying the scene from the shuttle zooming between floating islands.

Water… flowed into floating lakes. When I scanned further away, I did see actual lakes on some islands and rain clouds forming. In the distance, a body of water burst apart in a showering display as it collided with an island, soaking the land.

Clouds coated the upper horizon, whipping around in agitation.

The planet of broken islands had a history. A big planet had collided with a smaller one, pulling them into a combined

orbit.

By chance, they entered the goldilocks zone of a G-type yellow sun.

As the planets tugged at each other’s gravity, they spun separate but in tandem. It was really marvelous stuff to research - even for someone who focused heavily on how to kill others.

I understood what I saw at a basic level. Tangee’s massive moon pulled large sections of land away from the surface while Tangee held some islands close to her surface and did have surface continents.

The shuttle flew through a small dirt cloud, pings echoed through the interior.

The planet mesmerized my senses, but to be fair, I never traveled. What I saw amazed me.

“Tangee has almost zero gravity in its upper troposphere. The closer to the planet you get, the greater the gravity. Up here, I’m kinda surprised there’s a station,” the pilot said over the intercom.

His speech had to be directed at me as I sat alone in the big shuttle. The others had all disembarked at an orbital above the

planet.

“It may seem fun but living in zero gravity with constant threats is less than ideal,” the pilot continued. “The planet is hostile in multiple ways and scientists encourage wearing a spacesuit with a helmet at all times. Lastly, the islands are great cover to hide in, leaving it a refuge for undesirables.”

I scoffed then controlled my budding anger.

Feelings wouldn’t change my posting. Earning enough credits to alleviate my debt would. I steeled myself, feeling a jolt vibrate through the shuttle.

“Alright, clean attach, Mr. Castile. Please secure the back hatch after your departure, and thanks for flying Pino Air,” the shuttle pilot said.

The five-point harness hissed, releasing my straps. I floated freely, feeling at home without the gravity. I kicked off a chair gently. With a practiced maneuver, I smoothly glided for the back hatch.

I spun the handle at the back, earning a click when the door released its lock. I tugged until the opening allowed me into an air pocket.

I shut the shuttle door, spinning it tight until a second click told me the shuttle’s seal was once again secure.

Heading to the station door, I repeated the process.

Bran Teebulan didn’t greet me upon my arrival, a fact I ignored.

I sealed the door, feeling the station sucking me down with a light gravity.

Deimos’s tug was closer to Mars, bordering around 5 m/s with enhancements. Far greater than the natural 1.42g. The artificial gravity in the station felt closer to the 5g, trying to mimic the planet.

“Hello,” I said loudly.

A jarring sensation shook the station. A second later, the soft roar of engines flaring told me the shuttle had departed.

My fate was officially sealed. I walked into the interior, seeing the airlock led to a gear sorting and changing room.

A few different suits of armor hung from wall lockers, and I even saw jetpacks.

Honestly, this station already impressed me. The structure was new, the area clean, and the size ample. It didn’t take a genius to conclude it had been flown out here from an inner system.

“Hello?” I called again, this time a bit louder.

Nothing besides the echoing return of my greeting.

I left the airlock to find a kitchen. The clack of my boots against the decking echoed loudly in the room.

The magnets didn’t bother me, and the suit would turn them off with a simple thought.

A glance at my HUD sensors told me I had plenty of quality air to breath inside the room. Interesting, it’s definitely a nicer station than I was expecting.

I sealed the airlock and gear room, which should have been done anyway, then locked myself inside.

Habits. Bad habits lead to bad situations.

Maybe Bran left the door unlocked for me. My arrival had been down to the minute accurate.

The kitchen consisted of chiseled custom granite. If I were to guess, a precision cutting machine had sliced up massive rocks to create the walls with their large cubbies and custom cabinets.

Everywhere I looked, proper straps and locks secured the utensils, knives, and dishes. LED lighting illuminated the space with actual windows letting in the bright light.

I saw big shutters pried back, telling me that the thick acrylic could be covered quickly. Again, I found myself impressed by the oversized space and organization.

If Bran was a slob, he hid it well. In his image on the contract, he had food in his beard. This wasn’t what I was

expecting in the slightest.

Upon exiting the kitchen, I found a hall that broke into a T intersection. I went left, noting a bedroom door with an occupied sign on it.

The next door said Bruce’s Room.

I thumbed an input control, and the door buzzed green when it paired with my suits’ biometrics.

The interior revealed a large bed, a closet, and excessive storage.

“This is bigger than our old apartment,” I muttered, entering the room with arms out.

A quick spin, and I didn’t touch a wall. Extra electrical pairings and the lack of a window told me it was likely an office that had been converted to a room.

I bent down, noting fresh bolts and modifications created to secure my bed. Yeah, cheap work. Clearly done recently, too.

I secured my bag into a closet, sighing in relief that my luck had finally changed.

Excited about my new posting, I left, determined to meet the other resident.

I walked down the hall, finding a gym. The empty interior provided insight to a space I’d be spending plenty of time in. An elliptical, treadmill and extra weights awaited a user. Everything was secured down properly and somewhat new.

I let out a low whistle, admiring the room.

Next, I found a single shower and toilet.

I frowned, hating the idea of not having my own private throne. However, it was hardly the worst. I’d had to share a toilet my whole life, and just because I got stationed on a deluxe outpost, that wouldn’t change.

I passed a systems room and a simulator room on the back wall. Rounding the final corner in the square, I smiled.

Completing the loop in the main box shape was a large laboratory. The glazed windows deprived me of viewing the interior.

When I tried a door, the reader displayed: Access Denied.

I sighed, about to leave.

The door popped open.

“Hello,” an unexpected feminine voice said, and I instantly went into an aggressive stance.

My weapon whipped off my hip, and I released my gravity boots to jump across the doorway.

“Shit! Don’t shoot!” a blonde woman in her early to midforties said.

Her hands shot up, unwilling to release the vials she worked on. Her form fitting outfit squeezed her toned body. Ample breasts gyrated when she pumped her hands up and down to calm me. While I loved a fine figure on a woman, her pretty looks didn’t put me at ease.

My laser sight applied a dot to her forehead.

I growled out, “Back up nice and slow, lady. I don’t know who you are or -”

“I’m the owner,” she said hesitantly. “Well, co-owner. My husband is Bran. I’m Melina,” Come see. There’s no one else here.”

“I… the contract said I was to protect Bran Teebulan, not a Melina,” I said, eyeing her with skepticism.

She carefully walked backwards into the room, allowing me to join her in the largest section of the station.

“Yeah, Bran is not the adventuring type. I had to bribe him to let me go. And after the last botched raid, I had to beg for an assistant who could protect me,” Melina said, finding her resolve.

I entered the room, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. I only saw beakers, vials, and other nerdy stuff.