Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree)
Read Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) Online
Authors: Marshall S Thomas
Tags: #Fiction : Science Fiction - Military Fiction : Science Fiction - Adventure Fiction : Science Fiction - General
Prophet
and the
Blood March
by
Marshall S Thomas
Copyright © 2013 Marshall S Thomas
KINDLE ISBN: 9781626462670
PRINT ISBN: 9781626464360
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, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Published by BookLocker.com, Inc., Bradenton, Florida.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
BookLocker.com, Inc., 2013, First Edition
Layout design by Chris Thomas
Editing by Carol Woods
Starmaps by Hatton Slayden
Cover photo
V838 Monocerotis – credit NASA, ESA and the Hubble Heritage Team - STSci/AURA
Dedication
To the Knights Templar
God's Army
CONTENTS
Chapter 1 The Janitor who Rules the Galaxy
Chapter 4 Images from the Dark
Chapter 11 Dispatches to Deadman
Chapter 15 The Ambassador from Satan
Chapter 18 An Eternity of Dreams
Crista Cluster, 1,400 light years from Sol
When the first Outworlder refugees approached the Outvac fleeing System oppression, the Crista Cluster beckoned them onwards with a view that appeared to form a starry cross in the vac. ConFree's ancestors settled those worlds as a free people and vowed in a constitution written in blood to uphold liberty, justice and freedom, no matter what the cost, and to remain eternally vigilant against all forms of tyranny and slavery. The ConFree Legion was formed to accomplish those objectives.
TRIBAL VOICE
Land's End
"Oh Deadman, look at that, just look at that!" Honeyhair was clearly impressed. We stood with the Prof by the railing of the grand terrace of the Land's End Resort, looking out at the view. It was grey dark, late afternoon, icy cold and raining needles. We were bundled in coldcoats and had to lean into a howling wind to remain upright. The sky was a swirling mass of grey rainclouds hurtling close overhead; it was darkening rapidly and an uncertain sunset was visible only as a blurry pink scar on one horizon. Quaba's second sun was unseen. This was a fine end to a pretty typical Quaba day.
I held onto the metal railing and faced the wind. An endless churning cold grey ocean was coming at us from the misty horizon, gigantic super waves charging in from across the ocean, shedding foam and spray, torn by the wind but gathering tremendous momentum, heading right for those incredible black granite cliffs, gigantic bulwarks to meet the ocean, to announce the continent, to stop the waves after their incredible journey from the other side of the world, maybe thousands of K away.
Although the view was spectacular, the terrace was safely out of danger. It gave us a great wide-angle view of the immediate coastline but it was set well back of the cliffs. Now that giant wave was hurtling itself right at the coast, blasting over the jumble of shattered boulders far below, exploding violently against the granite cliff, shooting straight up and into the stormy sky. It was the ocean itself, crashing into the land. The boom sounded like artillery. In moments the sky doused us with the remnants of the wave, almost knocking us down. Honeyhair laughed in delight. I loved to see her happy, although she was so bundled up that at that moment I could only see the tip of her nose. Honeyhair, the Prof and I were the only people crazy enough to be out on the terrace in that storm.
"Here comes another one!" I shouted. Sure enough, another great grey leviathan wave, way out there, was gathering strength and rising up as if preparing a knockout blow for the cliff.
"We're fine, Carol, don't worry!" The Prof had to shout into his comset because of the roaring wind. The Prof was our heart and soul, our fearless leader. He was a little guy, not impressive physically, but he had the heart of a lion and the soul of a saint. Carol was his daughter. She was a lovely little teen who had been driven back to their hotel suite by the violence of the weather. Probably a good move, I thought.
"Please hold this, Honeyhair," the Prof said. "I've got to get this shot!" He thrust his comset into Honeyhair's grasp while struggling with his holocam, grappling with the railing and trying to steady the camera.
"Just put it on auto, Prof," I said as the wave stuck the cliff. I swear I could feel the impact through my feet. I guess the whole scene was kind of funny, if you really thought about it. This was Quaba, a world of violent extremes, originally claimed by violent, extremist settlers and now inhabited by their extremist descendants. Yeah, we were extremists all right – but I couldn’t help it. I loved this place.
"I got it!" The Prof cried out. "I'm sure I got it! What a shot!"
"That's great, Prof," I said. "I'm about to get frostbite. This is fun but let's get outta here." My teeth were chattering. Time to go!
We headed back to the resort complex, the wind pushing us along as an icy rain pelted us. The resort hotel was an amazingly luxurious series of low-slung suite complexes, partially sunk into the earth, designed to minimize resistance to the unending winds that tore at the coastline. It was a popular tourist destination and the Prof had ordered all Delta personnel to take a week's leave prior to entering into what promised to be a challenging new assignment. We were all recently returned from the war – Galinta, Dragon Shoals, Kratar and Veda. We were sick of violence and death, and needed a break.
"That was exhilarating. See you in the morning," the Prof said, splitting off for his own suite.
"Yeah, hope the pix turn out all right, Prof," I said.
"Let's get back home, jump into bed and snuggle," Honeyhair said, as we headed for our own suite. In the Legion "home" could be anything from a muddy trench to a warm barracks, depending on where you were. But Quaba had become my adopted home.
"Sounds like a plan," I replied.
"Oh! The Prof forgot his comset!" Honeyhair said, pondering the little commo device in her palm.
"Dummy," I said.
"The Prof is not a dummy!"
"I wasn't talking about him."
"Well, I can't be expected to remember everything. I keep busy enough just trying to keep track of you."
"Let me have that. I'll catch up to him."
"I'll come with you, no problem." We changed course towards the Prof's suite. It was near the aircar lot. The rain was easing off to a light drizzle. A dark airvan floated motionless up ahead at low boarding height, stationary, lights off. Several figures were huddled around it in the wet haze from the exhaust. It was evening by then and I could not make out their features. They should have lights on if power is on, I thought. Otherwise it could be a nav hazard. Something wrong with the van? They appeared to be loading a bundle of some sort into the open doorway.
