Shadowplay: Book One of the Starcrown Chronicles

By Jon Gerrard

Cordass Pell has a problem. When the 21 year old regains consciousness on a strange ship, he finds that he is on his way to serve a life sentence on the frozen penal planet of Demerl. But before the transport arrives, the ship is hijacked by pirates and Pell and the other prisoners are sold as slaves to a sadistic owner in a distant star system. The trouble is that he can’t remember anything about his life before waking up on that prison transport. And someone keeps trying to kill him. As he tries to learn about his mysterious past he realizes that the secret of his identity may hold the key to stabilizing the turbulent political situation in his home nation and perhaps all of human occupied space.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jon Gerrard
• Release date: Aug 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476484785

Jon Gerrard

Ever since he was a young child, Jon Gerrard has been a fan of science fiction/adventure stories. In his home he has amassed a sizable library of science fiction and adventure books and films. Fortunately for his wife, the advent of e-books has allowed her to reclaim a good portion of their house. It was as a natural result of this interest that he turned to writing.Before turning his hand to fiction, Jon co-authored two books on another of his passions, the martial arts. Written with his friends the Park brothers who were involved with the selection and training of the U.S. Tae Kwon Do Olympic teams, the books Tae Kwon Do and Black Belt Tae Kwon Do quickly became the reference standard for students of the art. For their efforts the book Tae Kwon Do was inducted into the prestigious New York Public Library Books for the Teenage List catalog. Along with writing about the martial arts, Jon has been a private instructor for over twenty years. The majority of his students have been law enforcement officers ranging from local police officers to federal agents, all of whom came to him because they wanted to feel confident in their ability to protect themselves on the street.While writing and the martial arts have been life long passions, like most people Jon had to contend with day to day issues like groceries and mortgage. So he needed a day job. For close to a decade he worked as part of a special anti-crime task force within the New York City Mayor's Office known as the Office of Midtown Enforcement (OME). OME was directly responsible for the transformation of the Times Square area from the blighted zone it had become into the popular tourist destination it is today. Starting as an undercover investigator, Jon was promoted to running the Investigations Unit a year later and a few years after that took on the role of the Director of Planning.Eventually, family considerations caused him to shift his career focus. Like him, Jon's wife worked in the field of law enforcement--she was an FBI agent who could be called out at a moment's notice. With two young children at home, Jon decided to move into teaching, a career that afforded more stable, child friendly hours. For twenty-five years Jon worked as a teacher in various private and public schools. Now retired, Jon has the luxury of being able to devote more time to crafting stories.Oh yes, the eye. People are always asking about the patch. Years ago Jon lost his left eye in an unfortunate incident. Although he does have a prosthetic replacement, he prefers the patch to the glass eye because he considers it to be "more honest". In his words: "I see the same either way."Mr. Gerrard holds an undergraduate degree in psychology from Princeton University and a master's degree in education from Lehman College. When he isn't working on his latest manuscript or conducting martial arts classes from his home on Long Island, Jon enjoys skiing, kayaking, scuba diving, horseback riding, playing video games and riding his motorcycle with his wife and children.

Book preview

Shadowplay:

Book One of the Starcrown Chronicles

by Jon Gerrard

Copyright 2012 Jon Gerrard

Smashwords Edition

Cover by Dane Low

For D

Who Believed.

Special Thanks to my two biggest fans:

Shay

Whose perceptive critique helped me make the story work

and Puka

Whose constant encouragement helped keep me going.

Chapter One

I guess it was the vibration of the deck plates that dragged me back to consciousness. I lay there with my face pressed against the decking for several moments trying to get my bearings. My thoughts were a complete jumble. I tried lifting my head and a grenade went off in my brain. Okay, bad idea. I let my cheek settle back into the warm puddle of drool on the deck.

I felt completely drained and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep but there was something tugging at my mind. Some nagging little voice was running around in my head trying to get my attention.

G’ way, I mumbled with all the authority I could muster. Then the vibration in the deck plates changed as power to the ion drive was sharply increased. I could always tell when the drive in a ship shifted by the way…

It finally penetrated the pea soup my brain was swimming in that I was on a ship. The problem was that I didn’t remember boarding a ship. In fact, now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember anything about how I had gotten here … wherever here was. I tried thinking back but found that I couldn’t remember what had happened yesterday, or the day before that, or the week before that. There was nothing there, just a black hole where my memory should have been.

That got my attention.

I heaved myself to my elbows and snapped my eyes open. A supernova went off in my brain. Screwing my eyes shut against the light spearing its way to the back of my skull I waited for the torture to end or my head to explode. Either would be an improvement. When the pain finally dimmed to mere agony I cracked my eyes and looked around. Bare synthesteel deck and bulkheads, harsh overhead light panels, barred doorway, and about a dozen men all dressed in alike orange jumpsuits. A quick glance down at myself confirmed that I was wearing the same thing.

A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. There had to be some mistake. I wasn’t a criminal, I was … I couldn’t complete the thought. I felt my heart begin pounding in my chest. I had to figure out what was happening. Think! What I needed was more information. Focus on the surroundings. There had to be something else to help me figure out what the hell was going on.

Through the door bars I could see a passageway with other cells like the one I was in. My legs didn’t feel like they were strong enough to hold me up just yet so I crawled to the doorway and used the bars to pull myself up. When I finally got my feet under me I had to wait for several moments for my sight to swim back into focus. I decided I could ignore the little star-bursts going off at the edges of my vision for now.

Looking through the bars I counted four cells on the opposite side of the passage, each of which appeared to be as full as the one I was in. That probably meant the same number on my side. Assuming an average of a dozen in each cell that meant somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred prisoners. To the left the passage ended at a bulkhead with a secured hatch. To the right was a one man station where a bored looking guard sat flipping through pages on his datapad. He was seated sideways to me but on his shoulder I could make out a patch with the emblem of the Royal Department of Corrections—a federal transport. My hands started to tremble. Squeezing tightly on the bars I took several deep breaths. Calm down! There had to be an explanation! I didn’t know what was going on but I knew in my gut that I didn’t belong here.

Excuse me, guard, I actually managed to speak above a whisper without my head quite splitting open.

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. Something passed briefly across his features–pity? Then he looked back down at his pad and swiveled his back to me.

Okay, so no help there.

Using the bars to steady myself, I turned and faced my fellow prisoners. Most had staked out a place on the deck and were just sitting there brooding silently by themselves. They didn’t seem like a very talkative bunch.

Pell!

Now that I thought about it, the cell seemed pretty crowded. This size space was only rated for about half as many people as there were here. I wondered why I would even know that. A sudden inspiration made me glance up at the outer wall of the cell only to find a blank synthesteel plate greeting me. A viewport would have let me see the stars and get an idea of what system I was in or at least what sector, but the only breaks in the walls were small ventilation grilles in the center of the bulkheads to either side.

Pell!

Me?

Over here!

There was movement in the grille to my left.

Pell! Over here!

Pushing away from the cell door I staggered miserably over to the vent. I got several dirty looks as I picked my way through the other prisoners sprawled around the cell, but I managed not to step on any fingers. The opening was too small for me to see more than the upper half of her face. Dark, intelligent eyes regarded me through the narrow opening and I could see smile crinkles in the corners. I decided that I liked those eyes.

It’s me, Alex. I was starting to get worried. That was some smack on the head the guard gave you.

That explained a lot. I reached up and ran a cursory hand through my hair but didn’t find a lump.

Her eyes sized me up. You look like hell.

Thanks. Just a headache the size of a small moon. I lied. It was more like the size of a gas giant. Do you have any idea where we are?

Well, we’ve been boosting for a couple of hours now, so I guess we’re just about out to the Tombs.

The Tombs was what prisoners called the federal detention facility on Demerl, the last planet in the capital system, Argo. Prisoners checked in, but they didn’t check out. Officially, Demerl was just one of several maximum-security prisons across the kingdom. What most people didn’t know was that in actuality it was where the government buried those cases they wanted to go away—serial murderers, mob bosses, national traitors and the like. How many damned fragments of random crap did I know that didn’t connect to anything useful?

A thought struck me. Aren’t there a lot of us? I mean, this seems like an awful lot of lifers in one trip.

We’re part of the new King’s program to ship all of the so called ‘undesirables’ off planet. I must have been giving her a blank stare. Geez, Pell, don’t you read the news?

Guess I’m more of a sports page guy.

You really need to start paying attention to what’s going on in the world. Anyway, ever since Duke Sebastian assumed the throne the courts have been working overtime.

Who?

She gave me an odd look. Duke Sebastian, well its King Sebastian now, the uncle of King Jason? He took the throne after the young King was assassinated.

I felt like I should know what she was talking about but my mind was a complete blank. How could I know so many odd little scraps of information and not know major things like who the King was?

Pell? Are you sure you’re all right?

Sure. I mean, I guess I’m still a little out of it, you know. So, you were explaining why there are so many of us aboard.

She gave me a penetrating look for a moment before continuing.

What it boils down to is that they need to make room. Things have gotten pretty bad on Haven ever since Sebastian came into power. He’s made the laws so strict that people are being arrested for every little thing. Crime is practically zero, but people have virtually no freedom either. Of course people tried speaking out against what the King is doing, but that’s a crime now, too. As a result, the prisons on Haven are getting so full with all of the unfortunates they’ve been rounding up that they had to start shipping anyone with more than a couple of years sentence off planet to make room. Hence our crowded little transport ride.

A glimmer of hope. So we’re not being sent away for life.

She stared at me for a moment, then laughed. You’ve got to be kidding me! Cordass Pell, the most notorious smuggler in this sector, and his pilot? Us they’re going to lock up and throw away the key!

The name still meant absolutely nothing to me. But that didn’t matter. The law had decided that Cordass Pell was a danger to society and I was on my way to spend the rest of my life in prison. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness started to settle over me when that nagging little voice in my head came back.

"Wait. Didn’t you say we were just about at the Tombs? But, if we’re nearly there, why would they be increasing power to the drive? They should be cutting back power to swing us into orbit."

My mysterious companion stared at me and the smile lines disappeared from the corners of her eyes. I told her about what I had felt through the deck plating. She seemed to accept my opinion about what the engines were doing without question.

Something’s wrong, she said softly.

Something about the way she said those two words chilled me. They were still echoing in my ears moments later when the deck jumped up and kicked me in the jaw.

Chapter Two

The basic principles of space flight have gone unchanged for hundreds of years. The traveling ship is pointed toward the location in space where your destination is going to be and thrust is applied. If you have enough fuel you can maintain thrust until you are halfway there, building up velocity and cutting the length of your trip. At that point you turn the ship 180 degrees about and boost in the opposite direction. If you want to do it cheaper you can boost only part of the way out and coast until you need to decelerate. The only tricky part is calculating the exact direction to point the ship in and how much thrust to apply. Since you are leaving a planet with its own momentum and traveling toward another body with a different motion relative to the one you’re leaving, you need to be sure that you and the thing you’re trying to reach are going to be in the same place at the same time. But calculus has been around even longer than space flight, and with modern navigation computers being what they are, programming a flight is basically a matter of telling the ship where you want to go and when you want to get there.

One thing is clear. At the end of a trip there is no need to increase power to the drive. Modern torch ships are very efficient. Not only can their ion engines supply thrust for an entire trip, but the thrust generated is so steady that there is rarely a need for even minor adjustments. Boost halfway out, turn around, boost the rest of the way in and shut down the drive. Neat and simple.

But the ship we were on had drastically increased thrust as we were nearing the end of our trip. That just didn’t make any sense. This contradiction was still on my mind when I drifted back to consciousness some time later.

I had a dizzying feeling of vertigo for several seconds until I realized that I was in free fall. I found myself floating just above the deck … no, just below the overhead. All around me I could make out the dim forms of my fellow prisoners floating limply around the cell with me by the glow of the emergency lighting from the hallway. That wasn’t good. I strained to listen above the moaning but couldn’t make out the one sound I really wanted to hear—the sound of the air circulation fans. That really wasn’t good. I did a few quick mental calculations and estimated that CO2 concentration would reach dangerous levels in a little over an hour. The Tombs was starting to look a whole lot better than where I was now.

I tucked my legs and launched off the ceiling with my feet. I managed to get my fingers into the grille of the ventilation duct and brought myself to a stop.

Alex?...

Is that you, Pell? Just a second. (Oof). A moment later she floated into view. How bad do you think it is? That didn’t feel like a system blowout. It’s more like we hit something.

Or something hit us. That increase in thrust I felt before could have been evasive maneuvering.

Maybe. Do you think the navigational deflectors failed and let some piece of space debris through?

I don’t know, but it felt like it came from aft. My guess is the engine room, considering that all the main systems are down. Our biggest problem right now is that without power there’s no way to open the cell doors.

Hmm. What if…

A sudden explosion erupted behind me and the aft corridor hatch sped past my cell. Then I heard the sound of heavy footsteps. A few moments later a dark, bulky figure hove into view—a man in space armor. The blue LEDs on his ankles indicated that the magnetic soles were active. As he made his way along the passageway I could hear the faint whirring of the suit’s built in servos, and gripped in his fists was a high yield plasma rifle.

The ominous figure ignored the prisoner cells and continued forward, followed by two more men in armor. Silence blanketed ship. There was only one explanation for who they were.

Pirates, Alex whispered. "But here, in the capital? I’ve never heard of anything so … bold!"

She seemed to be taking it a bit personally.

It may be bold, but what’s worrying me is that I can only think of one thing on a ship like this that’s worth anything.

Our eyes locked and for a moment I thought I saw a flash of fear in hers. Whatever it was it was gone in an instant, replaced by smoldering anger.

We’ll have to go along with whatever they want for now, she said, thinking out loud to herself as much as to me. If we keep our eyes open we might be able to find a way out of this mess.

Powered armor and plasma rifles made a pretty compelling argument. We had no choice but to do whatever they wanted.

Just then we heard the sound of distant weapons fire. My ears picked out what sounded like shots from a small hand blaster which were answered by the single bark of a much more powerful weapon. Then silence.

Most of the prisoners had come to their senses by then and the cells were starting to get noisy. Everyone knows what a failure in main power means aboard a space ship. Alex and I kept ourselves anchored in place by clutching to the ventilation grille while the others bounced and swam their way toward the cell doors in a hopeless attempt to escape. Sporadic arguments broke out as people poked and grabbed each other in a useless struggle to get to the doors. This went on for several minutes until a round of shots reverberated in the hallway.

As the other prisoners frantically launched themselves away from the door I could see someone returning from the direction of the cockpit. Four of the transport’s crew were being herded by one of the pirates. I recognized one of the men as the guard I had tried to speak to earlier. They moved grudgingly from hand hold to hand hold at prods from the end of his rifle. As they passed the cell door I saw the glint of reflected light around their necks.

Obedience collars, I said to Alex softly. These were the worst types of pirates: slavers. At the going average rate of twenty thousand Solars for a healthy adult, these flesh sellers stood to make an easy two million.

But how did I know what the black market rate was for slaves? If I was a smuggler, could I have been a slaver too? If that was the case I deserved to be put away for life.

All right, listen up! The pirate driving the transport’s crew had removed his helmet. "We’re going to be opening your cells one at a time. Just shut up and do as you’re told...or else!" He reached out and grabbed the bars to one of the doors on the other side of the passage. His suit servos whined as he closed his fingers, bending the bars he was holding as if they were wax. With a yank, he pulled the heavy door off its track.

There was no trouble. We all lined up quietly and were each fitted with an obedience collar. Once we were collared we were directed aft. Armored pirates were spaced along the way within eyesight of each other to keep us moving. They obviously had experience dealing with captives and we were hustled quickly through the ship. A lot of the prisoners were new to weightlessness and had trouble moving around, but they learned quickly enough after being clubbed with one of their rifles.

Judging by the way they were treating the transport, the pirates had no interest in salvaging the ship. Everything was a mess. Emergency bulkhead doors had sealed after their missile strike, which is what I was certain now it had been, but they hadn’t let that stop them. Every doorway we passed had either been forced open or blown in and each cabin ransacked. With one exception. As we filed past the hatch to the engine room the flashing light strip around the doorway warned that the compartment beyond was open to space.

Their weapons officer must be an idiot. We were lucky that the whole ship hadn’t blown.

The pirates had docked with our shuttle using an extendible sleeve. We were led through the ruined airlock and into the sleeve in single file to pull ourselves along by overhead tow bars. Once we reached their ship we returned to gravity. We were also greeted by an overwhelming stench. It was a nauseating mixture of burnt wiring and dirty machine oil on top of unwashed bodies and rotting vegetation.

The pirate waiting for us in the airlock seemed amused by our reactions as the stench rolled over us for the first time and gave each of us in turn a solid jab in the gut with his rifle. Whether it was to get us moving again or simply for his personal amusement I couldn’t tell, but he seemed to be enjoying his work.

The mess that the pirates had made in our transport was matched by the state of their own ship. Layers of grime covered virtually every surface. A number of wall panels had been removed exposing hastily made repairs to various systems. Scattered light panels were either flickering or burned out which made avoiding the random piles of debris on the decks that much more difficult.

As we made our way into the ship I couldn’t stop the feeling that I was someplace familiar, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Had I been on this ship before? Could I have been part of this crew at some point? I was really starting to worry about what kind of person I was.

We were directed down one deck and herded into a large cargo bay. Even in that crowd it didn’t take me long to spot Alex. I recognized those eyes immediately. She was seated with her back against a bulkhead deep in thought. She glanced up and nodded as I slid down next to her.

How are you holding up? she asked.

Aside from a killer headache and a cracked jaw I’m just peachy. You?

She shrugged. This is going to make things ... difficult.

Like being on a prison transport headed for a life sentence on a frozen rock was a party? I wasn’t sure what she was getting at so I simply answered her with a grunt. She was prettier than I expected. Not in a beauty pageant kind of way, but there was definitely something very appealing about her. Her dark hair was cut short in the style of an experienced spacer, but she was one of those women who could pull off short hair without looking boyish. She had full lips and wide cheekbones and of course those dark, slightly almond eyes. I also enjoyed the way she filled out her jumpsuit. Generous curves in all the right places but not soft. In fact she seemed quite fit, like some kind of athlete.

Of course she caught me checking her out.

Yes? she said, tugging up the zipper on the front of her jumpsuit.

Nothing, I said, pulling my eyes away from her neckline. You just seem a little, I don’t know, distracted.

Getting hijacked by slavers wasn’t exactly something I was planning on.

Who was? At least we won’t be rotting behind bars for the rest of our lives.

There is that, she said flatly. What was it with her? She seemed like her mind was a million light-years away.

Before I could think of anything to say a commotion started across the room. A brawl had broken out between the transport crew and a group of very angry looking prisoners. Everyone scattered to give them room. It was an ugly fight with two or more men ganging up on each of the former transport crew members. At one point, one of the corrections officers almost broke free but one of the others tackled him to the deck and started pummeling the back of his head as the guard tried to curl into a ball to protect himself. It wasn’t looking good for the officers.

Suddenly, all of the fighters dropped and began spasming violently. They were clawing at their throats and several of them were actually screaming in pain. After a few moments the spasms stopped and they slumped to the deck.

Knock it off!

Standing in the doorway was one of the pirates holding a remote.

Next time I leave it on!

The stunned men lay moaning softly on the deck but I was sure they had heard him. With things back under control the pirate returned to shoving the last of the prisoners into the hold. Soon the combatants started picking themselves up from the deck. The transport crew looked like they were in pretty bad shape.

Without thinking about it I went over to give them a hand, prisoners and officers alike. The prisoners who had started the fight only had to shake off the effects of the obedience collars for the most part, but the officers had been beaten to a pulp. One in particular had been beaten so badly that one eye was swollen shut and his lip was split and had ballooned to grotesque proportions. It was the same guard who had been posted in the cell corridor when I first woke up, the one who was too busy reading to talk to me. I had seen him take several kicks to the face before the fight had been broken up. As I moved to help him up Alex appeared on his other side and helped me take him over to the corner where the rest of his people were huddled. As we eased him down against the bulkhead I noticed him giving me a questioning look with his good eye.

I don’t like an unfair fight, I said, feeling like I should say something.

When he was settled we went back to our own piece of wall. A number of the other prisoners were giving us strange looks but we ignored them. I had a feeling this was going to be a long trip.

Chapter Three

A hundred people, no shower, and one poorly installed toilet. By the time they let us out of here we were going to be ripe. These were my first thoughts as I sat looking around at our new prison. The last of us had been shoved into the hold several minutes earlier and I could feel through the deck plates that we were under way. Unlike the prison transport however, what I felt this time was the thrum of a hyperdrive. Wherever the pirates were taking us had to be well outside of Gilead space. We would probably be locked in here for several days at least. I revised my earlier opinion. This wasn’t going to be a long trip. It was going to be a miserable one.

For a while I simply sat there feeling numb. In my mind’s eye I called up