Dragoons' Journey

By Rhobin Courtright

Part of a trio of Dragoon super soldiers who have escaped Colonial Pact ownership, Brigit has moved constantly for the last twelve years. The three use their highly developed skills to protect each other and remain invisible to any Colonial Pact hunters.
A message from a trusted source brings them to Aginfeld, a planet whose bioformed land and atmosphere nears completion. Inside their ancient habitats, the residents are known for the feudal lifestyles. They have survived the Colonial Pact’s decimating exile, are now a legal colony again, but under a subversive attack. The corporation wants Aginfeld at any cost for its vast and valuable resources and its soon to be habitable land. Brigit knows Aginfeld is a dangerous place for Dragoons, but the lure of freedom and a home is irresistible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: May 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781613092620

Book preview

Dragoons’ Journey

After the shuttle touched down, Brigit stood and demanded everyone remain seated. "Aginfeld’s Lord Commissioners gave us land and a home, but we must earn it. Since the end of the exile, Lakeesh’s history shows it has always been the most violent and corrupt of Aginfeld’s habitats. It was also hard hit by the three-hundred years of exile; they’ve suffered far longer than we have, especially since the Colonial Pact’s tampered with their genome and adversely affected their population growth. They have none. In fact, their birth rates remain far below their death rates. You all know what happened to the last lord and his heir. The current residents of Habitat Lakeesh will view us as usurpers until we prove we can rule equitably. Indeed, we are usurpers, but we have learned we belong to Aginfeld in many ways.

This habitat in particular is rife with inequity, injustice, brutishness, mercilessness, danger, and ill will. We know how such treatment feels, yet we also know hard work, discipline, justice, and fairness can overcome such prejudices. We will earn the residents’ loyalty…

Table of Contents

Dragoons’ Journey Title Page

Chapters

Meet Rhobin Courtright

Works From the Pen of Rhobin Lee Courtright

Dragoons’ Journey

Rhobin Courtright

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Science Fiction Novel

Edited by: Leslie Hodges

Copy Edited by: Jeanne Smith

Executive Editor: Jeanne Smith

Cover Artist: Rhobin Courtright

All rights reserved

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress, Inc.

Copyright © 2016 by Rhobin Courtright

ISBN 978-1-61309-262-0

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress Inc.

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One

Fugitives do not readily enter any heavily policed community, especially ones with populations rabidly paranoid of strangers. Somewhere like the planet Aginfeld. Even if the planet currently held a magnetic draw to galactic tourists, the residents’ mistrust ran deep.

As another shuttle passenger left the immigration desk on Ferik Station, Brigit schooled her breathing and emotions to calm, knowing her fake identity would pass muster once again. She stepped up to the desk to offer the surface of her fisted hand to the reader. The key, of course, was a believable background, keeping information as close to the truth as possible, keeping inner tells like blood pressure normal, and looking innocent, which of course, she was.

Brigit Smith? the formidable looking, too-heavily muscled female Enforcer asked, scrutinizing Brigit’s dusky face carefully. The Enforcer’s black hair matched Brigit’s, but her skin held a darker tone than the officer’s did. Brigit suspected the woman used some form of steroids. She had heard sterile Agin’ers did. Touring for a twelve-day stay?

She flashed her practiced smile and lied, Yes, to all.

Double-checking other records, the woman, whose tag declared her Nora Sierra, glanced at Brigit, and then the shorter but equally muscled man and delicate looking blonde woman standing behind her. You, Mr. Jones, and Ms. Lambert travel together and plan to stay on only Abode Habitat?

Yes, Enforcer Sierra. We’ve heard you have unrestricted gambling here, along with other entertainments. She smiled broadly. Nora Sierra did not return the smile nor did she give any hint of her thoughts.

Enforcer Sierra made some changes to update Brigit’s implanted identity chip. With more frown than welcoming expression, the officer told her to take a seat on the shuttle. Shortly Dean Jones and Margery Lambert joined her in the three-seat row.

Well, this was more intense than most entries we’ve made, Mars said with a low, sassy, lilt. Deems side-glanced at Mars, reclined his head on the backrest, and closed his eyes.

She, Deems Ejo, and Mars Kitton had been through this entry process numerous times with their fake identities. None of them had a criminal record on any register, which helped their deception. The Colonial Pact was the only exception, and they looked for them under their real identities. Moreover, the Pacters only wanted them as lost property—escaped Dragoons. In all likelihood, the Colonial Pact neither knew the three of them had deserted nor of their fake identities. They had learned the Pact searched for Dragoons and actively hunted its lost property. The Pact’s reaction was recapture or kill. Deems, Mars and she had decided they would never let such an event occur.

For over a decade, the three of them had made a living on independent freighters as crew, and evaded all things and places they knew under Colonial Pact control. Although all three knew Agin’ers hated the Pacters as much as they did, it was also clear the planet was a major target of the corporation, and she and her companions were walking into the heart of the battle. If not for Gator’s call, they would never have been so brash.

For decades, they had believed Gator, Captain Xandra Ownah, an intelligence officer who helped plan many successful battles, dead. Like many other Dragoon, they still habitually listened to a music distributor because Network 15K used Dragoon code. When they heard her song, they knew she lived and knew where to find her. The location, Aginfeld, could be a trap.

~ * ~

For three days they walked the corridors of Abode Habitat, inconspicuously surveilling their true destination, a business called And Music, the registered recorder of Gator’s song. This morning, they had finally decided to enter the premises, but they stalled outside the business’s doors. A crowd of Aginfeld Enforcer and Earth National uniforms outside the entrance halted them.

Look, Deems said with the slightest nod of his head.

Brigit turned her head the least bit to look out of the corner of her eye.

Holy shit, Mars said in a voice only she and Deems could hear.

Shock froze Brigit’s body, an experience she hadn’t felt in, well, centuries. Two high-ranking Agin’ers, an Earth National admiral from the Astrocorps and a major general from the Rangers, whose initial arrival caused her two friends and herself to pretend interest at a shop window, exchanged greetings with two individuals she knew. Dragoon Major Lyon Natiska, someone she also thought dead long ago, emerged from And Music. He appeared as a scruffy, unshaved ruffian with long hair. His lower left arm was missing. Standing behind the major was Dragoon Captain Xandra Ownah, whose call had brought them to Aginfeld, the rogue planet coveted by the Colonial Pact. She looked very young.

Brigit’s acute hearing caught the first exchange of the group outside And Music, even above the sounds of the habitat to which she had adapted in the last few days.

What do you want? a huge, muscular, and intimidating Agin’er asked Major Natiska.

All Agin’ers seemed huge and muscular despite the heavier gravity. It was another anomalous feature of the planet. Deems, Mars, and she had talked about it. The weight did not debilitate their bodies, probably due to Dragoon training, but they all noticed the gravity did tire them.

A touch from Deems turned her attention to approaching Aginfeld Enforcers requesting bystanders to keep moving. Brigit noticed the suspicious looks the law officers gave Deems, Mars, and her. Before moving, she heard her last eavesdrop on the group arousing her interest. Major Natiska’s easily identifiable voice spoke in a calm but firm tone. Agin’ers are known for their honor, sir, and I’ve heard of you. Your word is good enough.

The sound of footsteps, people’s voices whispering in curiosity over the situation they saw or rising in protest at the request to leave the area, overwhelmed her hearing. She, Deems and Mars turned and moved down the concourse Agin’ers called a street without exchanging a word. They turned onto the next side street and picked up their pace unimpeded by the slower steps of others leaving the area. More Enforcers entered the corridor from the direction they were heading. One was a handsome, tall, black-haired man whose skin was buff in color, a few shades lighter than her own soft caramel color.

‘Lickalicious,’ Deems called her, halfway between Mars’ vanilla bite and his own chocolate éclair. This man held a menacing, burly massiveness. The other was a somewhat shorter but just as brawny woman. Brigit felt a sinking feeling in her gut when the officers stopped about six steps in front of her group. Two Enforcers came up behind them.

Assume identities, Deems said sotto voice in unneeded warning as they walked the small gap to the Enforcers before them. Brigit softened her expression to clueless, shy vacationer. Somewhat hard to do when she stood taller than most around her, and her body was just as muscular as the Enforcers surrounding them. Her musculature, however, was not so much from training as from modifications Natal scientists had made in their Dragoon troops.

Tourists? The black-haired, buff-skinned officer before them asked, sounding as smooth and strong as the last latte she’d had months ago. She knew his dark glance encompassed and judged all around him. He didn’t particularly like tourists. His gaze turned piercing as it rested on her, weighing her threat level. She moved her lips slightly, pursing them in pretend worry. She noticed his notice of her attempted subterfuge.

No one would guess either Major Natiska or she and her companions were any type of soldier. If Natiska looked like a down-and-out non-allied trader, she, Deems, and Mars had dressed in shabby blend-in, far below affluent clothing. This precaution provided a measure of safety.

Petite but lethal Kit answered first, flipping her eyelashes at the officer, and changing her stance to a sexy invitational pose. Why yes, sugar. We sure are. Such a fascinating place, especially since the Risseu triplets invaded. You must know Earth National media covered the event for months. We just had to come and see the place for ourselves.

The Enforcer’s expression never changed from sober, authoritative contemplation. You have identification?

Deems, she, and Mars all presented the top of their fisted hands for the scanner the woman officer held. It read their bogus but undetectably false documentation. It passed muster once more. She smiled at the tall officer. He ignored her and gave a nod to the officers behind her.

The male officer in front of them spoke. As you’ve acknowledged, Aginfeld has had problems. Our security measures protect you as well as the habitat. Without adieu, the two officers walked past them and toward the corridor she, Kit, and Deems had just left.

Brigit took a soft breath of relief as she heard and felt the officers leave, but her jitters didn’t diminish.

Kit grabbed her hand, whispering, It’s okay, Fang, you did good, while pulling her into a walk. Deems fell in behind her, adding protection. Unable to speak, Bridgit nodded and took a few deep breaths before speaking. I hate reacting like this; it’s so un-Dragoon. I don’t know, maybe I’ve turned into a coward.

Deems swore and laughed. I thought you were going to attack them.

They had moved down the corridor, and reaching the corner, took a right turn. No Enforcers were in the area.

I almost did.

Cowards don’t attack. After what you in particular have been through, after what we’ve all been through, you believe that? You didn’t attack them; you remained in control of your reactions, and we’re not under detention.

What do you think? Kit turned her head to look at Deems as she spoke.

Brigit heard his muffled huff. "I think we need to walk the habitat a few more times, see what transpires, if anything, before we visit And Music again.

They walked through the accessible streets of the shopping area of Abode, avoiding obvious residential areas. As habitat lighting turned to mimic evening, they entered a local bar. Before taking seats at a table far in the bar’s rear, all three noted its privacy. Kit’s dissatisfaction had become more apparent with each passing hour. It matched her own despair, not only of today, but extended over the past years and their dwindling hopes for any future.

We’ve heard nothing about the major. No gossip, just nothing, Mars said.

This is Aginfeld. Deems huffed, his gaze sinking to the floor. They probably have great expertise at keeping things hidden. He swiped his head with his hand, swore, and placed his fisted hand in front of his mouth.

Do you think the Colonial Pact subverted Gator? Brigit asked. Such a travesty had occurred with other Dragoons. They had encountered one before and narrowly missed collection by Colonial Pact thugs because of the chance meeting.

Don’t know. Deems rubbed his eyes as if unwilling to consider such an evil.

I’m tired, Kit said. Tired of my existence requiring constant paranoia, tired of obfuscation, tired of never being me, tired of how I am, and tired of constantly thinking about how I want my life to be.

It’s a choice: hide or endure the Colonial Pact, Deems said, sitting back and lowering his hand to his lap. They all knew the truth.

Brigit reached into her pocket and grasped her slipknife, an undetectable weapon especially when held in her clenched fist. She stood and took a step toward the door.

Where are you going? Kit asked.

And Music. Wherever I end up doesn’t matter. I just want an end, even if it means prison or death. She held up her knife in a gesture showing her hopelessness and her willingness to end everything. Turning she moved to leave the bar.

Before she reached the bar’s entrance, Deems and Kit had joined her.

~ * ~

The incidents of yesterday briefly flashed through Brigit’s mind. She barely believed she was standing behind her seated former commanding officer, Dragoon Major Lyon Natiska, guarding his back. Shortly after she was shown to a room, a message came and an Enforcer escorted her to where Natiska’s meeting took place. Very un-Dragoon-like emotions had assailed her ever since coming to Aginfeld. Most of the current ones, she was sure, were due to the fact she hadn’t been a soldier in years. Being met, and even welcomed, by both Gator and Natiska had thrown her equilibrium off kilter. She was still doubtful about any good outcome, but desperation drove her and her friends.

Lyon did not wear a uniform, so the present elite company was not surprised the Dragoon standing behind him also stood in civilian clothes. The major looked disreputable for a soldier. He still wore his shabby trader clothing so unlike the power a merit-adorned, Dragoon black dress uniform exemplified, or perhaps Natiska’s dress embodied Dragoons’ stature now? She appeared marginally more upscale. Hardly the image of the legendary warriors Gator claimed Dragoons symbolized. Across the table, Aginfeld’s Sovereign Comyn Tik-Slade and four of Aginfeld’s lords faced Natiska. Yet the regard of the Aginfeld elites at the table held wariness and respect. Perhaps this was due to Captain Ownah’s own precipitous arrival.

The visit to And Music had produced amazing results. Both Major Natiska and Gator had greeted them, and no one arrested them or forced them into some somber interrogation office. Instead, Natiska told them they might have the only chance left for any Dragoons still alive to have a life not defined by deception and homelessness.

Learning so many Dragoons had already joined with Natiska on his independent-transporter, The Mystic, seemed implausible. Further, she felt rather stunned to find herself in a position of pretending to be her long ago former self, Lieutenant Brigit Farquerre. She stood stock still behind Natiska, mimicking a soldier’s stance. It had been a very long time since she had done the real thing, and she felt inadequate, yet her long ago training-induced protocols held steady.

Many Dragoons, including Major Natiska, had thought her dead. Lyon seemed amazed she, Ejo Deems, and Mars Kitton had arrived on the renegade planet Aginfeld together. Their arrival, having coincided with his, added to his incredulity. Former Sergeant Deems Ejo had explained to Major Natiska how the three of them had gone AWOL from a Colonial Pact instigated battle and evaded the Pact’s notice and retribution for the last ten years. Gator’s call had drawn them to Aginfeld. He had told Natiska that Captain Ownah’s message would draw any Dragoon who heard it to Aginfeld. Captain Ownah, Gator, was a Dragoon lodestone. Natiska had only smiled. Still, none of them knew if they would be calling Aginfeld home.

She doubted few present could read the major’s thoughts and emotions as well as she could. He skillfully hid his misgivings, and she hoped this effort wasn’t another Dragoon disappointment. Brigit caught herself from sighing and stiffened her stance.

Lord Marshal Nickal McDirk and the Aginfeld Enforcer’s Commandant Ithan Van Garth, men the major had met only hours ago, sat on either side of Natiska. She would have preferred if Lyon had brought Captain Ownah, whose memory was unparalleled, but he knew she would stand-in the best she could. Major Natiska had introduced her by her call name Fang, so she doubted he even remembered her real last name. Just as well—no one pronounced it correctly.

Brigit did not know how the major could remain calmly unfazed by the importance of this meeting and the high stakes and risk for the Dragoons traveling with him…training perhaps, or experience. Noticing one of the Agin’er lords regarding her, Brigit mentally slapped herself and ordered herself back to long out of practice duty.

The sovereign, looking like some ancient and mythical Scandinavian god—handsome out of all measure—began the meeting. His regard fell on Natiska, but Brigit doubted the major missed the intelligence in the sovereign’s assessing look. The sovereign switched his attention to the man sitting next to the major. Lord Marshal McDirk, we have come together on very short notice at your request. I assume it is a matter of great importance.

Thank you, Sovereign Tik-Slade, Lord Marshal McDirk said, for drawing together the response from the Lord Commissioners so quickly and at such a late hour. All here know of the origins and talents of the commandant’s newly claimed wife, Captain Xandra Ownah. She sent a message to draw other Dragoons to Aginfeld, to see if there were even any others out there. Today an answer came to her summons far beyond my expectations. Before we gathered, I apprised each of you of my basic promises to Major Natiska, and hope the Lord Commissioners will accept them. Now I will introduce you to Major Lyon Natiska of the Natal Dragoons.

Now only Dragoons, Lord Marshal McDirk, Natiska inserted. Since Natal’s betrayal and the takeover of the government by the Colonial Pact, Dragoons no longer consider ourselves of Natal. The sonorous tones of Natiska conveyed calm, something Brigit remembered of his command.

How many of you are there? Sovereign Tik-Slade asked Major Natiska. The sovereign’s arms stretched out on the table with his hands in a casual clasp.

Brigit knew Lyon did not look down at his single hand resting in much the same position, or give indication of his shabby attire or overlong hair; he appeared nothing like a uniformed Dragoon officer. At least Gator’s man, Van Garth, allowed the major to get some rest and clean up. Claimed wife. Lord Marshal McDirk’s statement confounded Brigit, drawing her attention briefly. How could an officer of Gator’s caliber have submitted to such an indignity after all she’d been through with the Colonial Pact? Hadn’t they all fought for personal freedom?

Over six hundred highly trained ground and flight battle Dragoons, and more, as already some thought lost to us, such as Lieutenant Fang who stands behind me, have answered Gator’s call.

The number staggered Brigit. How could he have gathered so many Dragoons? Who knew so many had escaped?

Who is Gator? another blond Lord asked while his face and posture exposed his skepticism.

My pardon, Lord Rosly, Lyon said. Captain Xandra Ownah—I understand she is now the wife of Commandant Van Garth. Gator is her battle and flight call.

Brigit saw the slight twitch in the Lord Rosly’s cheek since there had been no introductions.

You have command experience? In my experience your rank is rather low, Lord Van-Garth said.

Brigit had trouble with many Agin’ers using the same surname, depending on what habitat they came from. To have a Commandant Van Garth sitting opposite a Lord Van Garth seemed confusing. She wondered how the Agin’ers kept everyone identified.

Without a flinch at the insult, intended or not, Lyon said, The highest rank allowed in the Dragoons was colonel. Unfortunately, all Dragoon colonels died in our war on Natal. I am the highest-ranking officer left, Lord Van-Garth. High-ranking officers seldom experience the actual battlefield, but at my rank, I can assure you I have seen and shed blood. I also have a strong background in strategy and tactics. Enough that since my arrival here yesterday, the Earth National’s Ranger Forces have already sought Dragoon aid in future engagements.

Then why seek sanctuary here? Lord Rosly asked.

Because your nation is facing another battle in a war you have been fighting for three hundred years. The Colonial Pact wants your planet, more precisely all the assets it will provide. Earth National remains locked in legal entanglements with the Colonial Pact since our mutual enemy tried to subvert your colony a year ago. The Dragoons have been in a covert war with the Colonial Pact for two centuries. We won all the battles in Natal’s civil war, but through subterfuge, the Pact had taken over Natal’s government, winning the war. They kept us in cryogenic stasis to sell us as a product—soldiers—whenever they could. I am sure Lord Marshal McDirk has explained Dragoon history to all of you. As your scientists have discovered, we are genetically altered and nanite-enhanced warriors. All based on the science of Doctor Aginfeld. We want a home here, sirs, because we belong here, and you need us.

It was a revelation to Brigit. Genetically altered? A new anger flamed in her gut. It explained so much.

A long silence prevailed in the room before Lord Marshal McDirk spoke. I have already presented Major Natiska’s requests to the Lord Commissioners’ Council. I instigated this meeting to see if, indeed, we can sign a temporary agreement with the Dragoons until a formal contract can be worked out to each side’s agreement.

The last lord spoke up. "They want land, only five-hundred thousand hectares? Let them have it, a pittance