Chess Game: Omega Canyon and Beyond

By Michael Burdick

Chess Game: Omega Canyon and Beyond is an exciting action adventure/ science fiction story, based on the characters of the game, Chess.

Five soldiers of a planet-wide war, wagged on a remote desert sphere that oozes a poisonous gas from the ground, are accidentally transported back-in-time to the source of that contamination. That place: The Pacific Ocean, World War II, 1945, Earth.

After being dropped into completely foreign surroundings, each warrior – Bishop Avery, Knight Hage, Rook Guntry and two pawnsmen who are not what they seem – are forced to deal with a whole new enemy. Armed with new-found independence and mysterious abilities they are only beginning to discover, abilities somehow tied to the contamination itself, the biggest threat to their unit might just be each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Burdick
• Release date: Feb 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301734429

Michael Burdick

Michael Burdick has been a writer for over 17 years, finding success in short stories, children’s books, screenplays and as an award-winning playwright. He currently makes his living as a Senior Digital Multimedia Producer. “Chess Game: Omega Canyon and Beyond.” is his first published novella.

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CHESS GAME: OMEGA CANYON AND BEYOND

By

Michael Burdick

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

Michael Burdick on Smashwords

Chess Game: Omega Canyon and Beyond

Copyright © 2013 by Michael Burdick

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

*****

I would like to offer special thanks to Greg Adkins, Jeff Laboon and Benjamin Curns for their edits and suggestions to this work and to Ann-Marie Lombardo for her wonderful cover art. Thanks also to the many creative people who have been a constant source of inspiration to me throughout my life.

For my dad, Robert T. Burdick.

*****

CHESS GAME: OMEGA CANYON AND BEYOND

*****

PROLOGUE

Amid the extreme darkness of night, deep within a particularly barren sector of the tumultuous desert planet of Quadreil, several pairs of combat boots quietly worked their way along the harsh, rocky ground. Two elite Bishop Officers of the powerful Thorconian Army led a military scouting party of eight pawnsmen cautiously forward, aiming their laser weapons in front of them as they made their way through the desolate landscape. Each pawnsman was outfitted in a dark blue, armor-plated uniform, with long black capes and a helmet that completely covered their faces. The high cliff walls all around were barely visible as they felt their way past.

Suddenly, a light on each of their metal armbands began to blink, making them halt in unison to await their next instruction. One of the Bishops held up a small sensory device toward a break in the wall of the canyon that stood directly in front of him. After observing the wild readings on the sensors, he confirmed his findings to the others with a nod. He raised his arm to his chest, pointing to the canyon and then to his eyes. The pawnsmen read their commander’s silent language and took up close defensive positions, quickly closing their formation around the location he had indicated.

Once their unit was in place, the two officers turned back toward the break and flashed a light on the spot in question. The place they were inspecting was a hole, roughly the size of a manhole cover. At first glance, it appeared to be no different than a hundred other rock openings that they had seen every day of their lives. But upon closer examination, the officers discovered heavy, black scorch marks all around its edges, indicating that this was exactly what they had been sent to find. A quick second after the Bishop turned his light off again, the burns flickered with a green glow, before going dark once more.

One of the Bishops nodded to the pawnsman to his right. Without hesitation, the soldier slung his rifle over his shoulder and moved forward, ready to climb down into the mysterious, narrow opening. No sooner had he placed one foot inside the hole, however, when his descent was halted by a barely audible sound of scraping against the rocks below.

As the three Thorconians cautiously peered down in the direction of the sound, they were taken aback to discover a bright, green light glowing back at them from the depths. The light was accompanied by a strong, steady pulsing sound. The two phenomenon seemed to be working in unison, growing brighter and brighter at a faster and faster rate.

Then, as quickly as it had been found, the pulsing stopped and fell silent with a downward hum. This was the only prelude to a massive explosion of green fire, thrusting its way out of the hole and incinerating all eight members of the unit instantly. From the fire came an intensely fast-moving, glowing rock, which launched itself high into the dark sky. The wild projectile of mass destruction accelerated through the canyon at astronomical speeds, bouncing off the rock walls violently, leaving destruction in its wake as it disappeared into the distance — and nothing else.

CHAPTER ONE: JUST A PAWN

The fierce roar of a flying military transport thundered through the desert, kicking up a wild wind that hammered the sand viciously against the dunes of the otherwise lifeless sector. Steadily slowing, the craft hovered for a moment before descending straight onto the parking bay of a remote outpost bar.

Three pawnsmen emerged from the transport, all wearing the same matching dark blue, armor plated uniforms, complete with helmets that covered their faces. Their lack of balance as they stumbled toward the bar gave away their condition.

Smoke engulfed the air throughout the quiet drinking house. Everything in the place looked to be made out of either brown marble or glass. On the far end of the square bar sat Knight Hage, a lone officer dressed in civilian attire. He looked to be in his late 30s. But his age was dwarfed by a sobering combination of experience and a purely rugged edge. Despite the fact that he had been drinking for some time, he sat extremely steady, presenting himself in a well-kept, respectful fashion, right down to his shapely trimmed beard. The only clue that he held the Thorconian officer rank of Knight was a large pin with a horse insignia visible on his well-pressed shirt.

In contrasts to Hage, the emerging soldiers — consisting of Military Pawnsmen Class Squelich, Storm and Rickshaw — stood out immediately as they made their way out into the room. When they removed their helmets, they revealed themselves to be no more than 18 or 19.

Squelich, clearly the drunkest of his company, immediately started to cause a disruption, knocking things over and slamming his fists into the marble tops as he and his fellow soldiers sat at one of the tables. He gazed around the bar. Let’s have some drinks over here, he said, addressing no one in particular.

Storm chimed in with his displeasure. Twelve hours in, patrolling through the harshest blowing sand we’ve swallowed in a month and you want to make the day even longer.

Twelve hours in, Squelich fired back, patrolling through the harshest blowing sand we’ve swallowed in a month and you two want to go back to base without so much as a drink to kick that sand back out again.

We’ve been drinking. And I’m tired! With that, the angry pawnsman got up and — true to his moniker — stormed off to the bathroom.

Always you with the problem, Squelich shouted after him, continuing to look the bar over. Will you look at this place? Enough concentrated boredom to endanger the security of the entire Thorconian Empire.

Rickshaw chuckled to himself calmly. Oh, we usually manage to have a good time.

Squelich shook his head and turned away, realizing he wasn’t going to get any help in his argument from the current conversation. Squinting through the smoky darkness, his bloodshot eyes made contact with Hage for the first time. Hage stared right back at him, not moving his gaze an inch. Squelich looked at the floor for a second. Even with such a random exchange, he felt immediately ashamed that he had backed down first. He tried to shake it. Yep, this landfill is the perfect place to find the time of your life all right. We could be at Klein’s right now. But you two just had to bring me here.

You got us kicked out of Klein’s. We can’t go there no more.

Yeah, well, who wants to go there, anyway? They disrespect pawnsmen there.

You think everybody disrespects pawnsmen.

Well, don’t they?!

Ahhh, you were drunk is all. You’re always drunk. You never know when to stop…

Squelich smiled an inebriated grin, again blowing Rickshaw off with a loud exhale. He glanced back at Hage. The Knight still hadn’t looked away. Struggling to maintain focus, the stumbling pawnsman could barely make out the Knight pin on the officer’s shirt. The realization of his newfound, silent adversary’s rank fueled a deep anger inside of him.

Storm returned to the table, but Squelich ignored him. Instead, he chose to make a toast. Drink up, boys, he said, in a voice that quickly raised an orator’s volume. Downtime is the only time that honest pawnsmen like us can be our own men. When day returns, we’ll start feeling that pain again — the pain that comes from being underlings … no ... slaves; serving a bunch of no good bastards. We’ll be taking orders from Rooks and Bishops, every court official we see. With his next line, Squelich locked eyes with Hage once more, as he lifted his drink in a ceremonial pose. And the worst of ’em all will be the Knights, who are, despite their almost buffoon-like arrogance, really no better than any of us … and in most cases worse. So let’s drink up to the Knights, boys, the biggest assholes in all of Planet Quadreil.

Squelich drank fast, slamming his glass hard enough to break it on the bar. The others did not drink, but sat silently with their heads down, realizing the inappropriateness of their fellow pawnsman’s actions.

Hage, on the other hand, seemed to show no response to the outburst. He steadily put out his cigar and dropped some Thorconian credits on the bar to cover his tab. As he calmly began to walk toward the bar entrance, Squelich followed him with his eyes, relishing the silent victory he thought he had won. But that notion only lasted a moment. Just as Hage reached the archway, he stopped, turning back to Squelich with a cold stare. I guess you’d better be coming with me.

Without a second’s hesitation, Squelich shot up from his stool, knocking it to the ground. He moved quickly to the door, his cronies trailing behind him reluctantly. Hage let Squelich walk through the entrance and out without incident. He then turned back to Storm and Rickshaw, stopping them with a motion of his hand. You soldiers can come or you can stay. It’s your choice, and I understand your reasons either way. But I’ll give you this single warning. Once you set foot into that docking area, you will instantly share your friend’s fate, plain and simple. If you walk out there now, you’ll never walk anywhere again. Hage stared at them for a moment, letting his point sink in, before continuing outside. Storm and Rickshaw hesitated at first, but eventually followed him into the open air. They knew full well that as Squelich’s brothers-in-arms in the Thorconian Army, they had no choice but to get his back.

Hage walked out into the docking bay ahead of Storm and Rickshaw to find Squelich waiting for him. The few moments he has waited had changed the common tan complexion of Quadreil into a solid shade of white.

Squelich quickly charged at Hage’s legs full force, knocking him hard to the ground, and immediately tried to settle on top of the Knight to throw a punch. The officer proved much faster, kneeing his adversary in the groin, following quickly with a hard punch into his solar plexus. The blow left the pawnsman unable to breathe. Without allowing a moment’s rest, Hage jumped up, grabbing the subject of his wrath by the hair and picking him up enough to send him billowing backward into the side of a transport.

Sensing that things were getting out of hand fast, Storm and Rickshaw jumped in, each trying to get hold of an