Centralist Conspiracy: Starlight Century Episode Two

By Brett P. S.

Following the Starlight Brigade's escape from Solus, a Terrace Centralist uprising is at hand and I'malar intends to uproot the conspirators, Logan included. The good General enlists the aid of his private crew once more to divert the squids' attention from his activities. While Elijah and the SBG plan the ransom of the century, a silent stalker hunts them down as deft hands play their cards.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brett P. S.
• Release date: Jun 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311222893

Brett P. S.

Brett Sawyer (1986), born in Old Saybrook, Connecticut, is an indie author who writes short stories & novellas, from science fiction to heroes. He graduated from Eastern Illinois University in 2015 with a Bachelor’s in education and currently teaches game design at Lake Land College.Short Change arrived at retailers in November of 2014, the start of a hero series where ordinary people gained powers over oddly specific domains, following the story of a shorter than average hero who can telekinetically manipulate small units of currency.Short Change is free on “smashwords.com/profile/view/BrettPS” and Barnes & Noble along with other samples and short fiction.Brett’s popular releases in science fiction include “Dark Station” and “Tales from the Colony: An Interstellar Saga.” Dark Station is a deep space thriller set aboard an abandoned orbital science station where Ben Gebbley and his crew secretly investigate the disappearance of the original staff before others come to claim the lost assets.

Book preview

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

EPILOGUE

Part One

Averting their Gaze

Chapter 1

Insurance Plan

Cillica Station, Gemini Sector

Cyborgs aren’t uncommon within the Galactic Union. Given the variety of cybernetic implants available, the GU estimates approximately 50% of all Terrace people are cyborgs. However, the vast majority of these involve cosmetic alterations or medical prostheses. In reality, about one percent of cyborgs fall into the Enhanced Human category. – Old Terrace Order (OTO) Archives

Elijah Adamson had aged five years since his time spent with the Starlight Brigade. Now 32 and steadily climbing the twilight roster, his usefulness as a Full Blood was nearing its end. Maybe two-thirds of a decade remained in his job security before he either retired or chose a less volatile profession. Things looked promising though. The SBG paid well for his continued service, and he’d invested his account wisely enough to settle down in a nice cozy retirement fund. Elijah shook his head at the thought. It wasn’t what he wanted, not yet anyway. He’d barely witnessed the full breadth of the Core Systems, let alone the pockets in between.

Elijah sat with sagging shoulders in the waiting room of the I’malarian Consulate on Cillica Station, a bright jewel in the outer reaches of Gemini Sector. Noticing his less than professional posture, he crossed his legs and sat up straight. He wore a steel gray business suit, the sort one might wear to a job interview. His appointment was the same in many aspects, though the exact nature of his sorry predicament placed a firm lump in the back of his throat.

The I’malarian Consulate was beautiful, something reminiscent of ancient Terrace. They used stained glass windows instead of the droll clear fixtures he’d come to know aboard the Gallant. The walls were made of an imported sand-like material from the oceanic depths of some worlds within the Collective, places he would never lay eyes upon. Few outside of select OTO generals ever have, and he doubted he’d become an exception.

The squids themselves … no, squids was the inappropriate slang, hardly respectful. He needed to quit thinking like that. It would do no good to mince words of accidentally slip one unconsciously into otherwise polite conversation.

Lady Z’tan will see you now, the receptionist said.

Elijah peered over at the I’malarian female sitting behind a counter fused to the wall opposite him in the waiting room. She gestured to her right with soft, pale blue hands. Like all I’malarians, their skin varied in color, though it generally looked pale. Outside of their oceans, their exteriors lacked the sheen of constant hydration, though their people had done well, dwelling on the surface. One bath a day would suffice for appropriate hydration.

Of course, Elijah said. He picked himself up and walked calmly toward Izzy Z’tan’s office.

Listen up, James said through his earpiece. I’m going to walk you through the entire ordeal. I have Z’tan’s public profile, her archived blog posts, and everything else short of her bloody bank PIN. All you need to do is look pretty.

Elijah nodded his