Shadow of Eternity: Fallen Empires, #1

By Jeremy Spires

The population of Earth has shattered. Humans are going to war with each other once more over religion, but a small group disagrees and flees Earth for a better life. 

Pursued by their enemy, humanity flees across the galaxy and settles on a new home. 

Six thousand years later, the human Empire on Earth has tracked their enemy and the civil war will begin again. 

My name is Destota Valentine. 

I am a desendant of the refugees from Earth, trained to the peak of my ability. 

This is my story. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeremy Spires
• Release date: Aug 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781718069954

Book preview

Book One:

Shadow of Eternity

Prologue

JANUARY 2032

The heavy sodium lights flickered on the walls of the ancient chamber. Two researchers stared into the inscribed tablet of a Knight, long dead, who had been unearthed in the catacombs under Vatican City. The two looked at each other in astonishment as the translation lay open on the screen of the iPad shared between them.

What does this mean? Tori Wingell asked her husband.

It means that we need to bring this evidence to the authorities at once. David Wingell whispered back in a harsh tone, flavored by his Sicilian accent. We must inform the scientific community. They need to know everything!

His wife nodded her agreement, just as a loud clatter sounded behind them. Both turned to see several Pontifical Swiss Guard members storm through the opening to the catacomb.

His Holiness wishes to see you both. One of them said in German.

They were removed from the chamber, the bulk of the guards remaining behind to keep out other researchers. What is the meaning of this? David demanded, fighting against his guards. We have permits from the Pope himself...

He was shoved roughly, and Tori cried out to stop her husband from being harmed and was shoved as well. They were brought to the Pope’s chamber and held by the arm by heavily armed guards as the Pope shuffled out to meet them; old as he was, his blue eyes shined brightly.

I cannot allow the research to continue, regrettably. He said, waving a gnarled hand to the guards. There has been an uprising.

Uprising? Tori asked, rubbing her arm where the guard has seized her. What kind of uprising?

They are calling themselves the Legion of the Phelb, they are claiming to be Christian but... He sighed heavily and shook his head, then reached to his table and picked up the iPad. I have transferred twenty million dollars to your account, He said, holding out the iPad to David. There is resistance in France. Their leader, a woman named Major Valentine. Give this to her, she will help you. The Phelb will overcome the Christians, the Muslims...everyone. They must not have this information.

What will you do, your Holiness? Tori whispered.

He sighed and smiled, then shuffled forward and clasped her hands in his. Go with God, my child.

David gripped his wife’s arm and looked at the Pope. God be with you, sir. He whispered, then turned with his wife and fled from the chamber.

The leader of the Pontific Guard approached after the Wingell’s had fled and looked to the Pope, who slumped in his chair with a heavy sigh. We must evacuate, Holiness. The Swiss Guard cannot stand against the Phelb for long.

Go with God, my son. The Pope said with another dusky sigh. I will be with him soon.

AUGUST 2036

The detonations were getting closer every hour. Every day, the enemy advanced forward, and every day the last of them fell back farther and farther towards the last refuge of the Human beings that did not follow the teachings of the Phelb, the religion that had sprang up seemingly overnight, absorbed most religious adherents into their own faith, and rapidly waged war against any human being that did not obey their God.

Madaline Valentine, leader of the sixth resistance group based out of Paris, France, stared through her optics as the former United States Navy hammered the shores with their advanced weapons, hitting resistance targets with rail guns and laser guided tomahawk cruise missiles. She shook her head and turned to her second in command. Captain, She said. Here is the end for us. What is the status of the escape vehicle?

He looked at his tablet, repurposed from an old Samsung device. We’ve still got about six hours. The eggheads haven’t yet finished making the final tune adjustments to the subspace drive.

Are they even sure it will work? Madaline demanded, a scowl crossing her beautiful features. Or do they just think that it will blow up?

Blowing up off this planet is better than being pounded into a pulp by the Navy out there. He pointed out, raising a soot-stained brow. It was very telling, even to members of the thinly spread resistance, that things were dire when all that was left of their forces on Earth was a Major and a few isolated pockets of young men and women.

They’d fled from the mainland United States and deeper into Europe as major nations fell under the sway of the religious fanatics, first the US, then Canada, a few days later, Russia, China. Soon the Phelb had entire militaries at their command, and the resistance survivors simply fled in any direction they could.

Madaline had defended what was left of Paris for nearly a year now as scientists from all over the planet worked furiously to finish humanity’s first interstellar vehicle, code named Vandor.

She nodded. True. Her blue eyes flickered as another explosion rocked the eastern side of the city. Alright, send the recall order. Get as many back here as we can before they finally reach us. And make damn sure the Wingell’s are on the transport!

The Captain nodded, tapping in commands on the tablet. Done. He replied, then looked up. What do you think, Major Valentine? He grinned slightly. Will we survive this?

She grunted. We had better, Captain. We are all that is left of basic humanity.

MAJOR! SOMEONE SHOUTED. Valentine was instantly on her feet, rifle in her hands. She had defected from the US Marines like so many other soldiers, sailors and Marines had done.

What is it? She demanded.

We are nearly finished loading. The Scientist, she could see now, said excitedly. We need to load the rest of your forces, so we can calibrate the drives.

She nodded and turned around to where Captain Herkins had been napping beside her. He too, was on his feet. Issuing the order now, Major. She grinned slightly. Herkins was a US Air Force Captain, formerly, dark skinned and dark eyed, head shaved bald and wide grin ready for most days.

The remnants of her forces, who had retreated from fronts as far as Uzbekistan and China, trickled in and totaled less than five thousand. Their ship had been built for nearly twenty thousand, and Major Valentine was taking every advantage, cramming every available pound, every space with supplies and ammunition. Some of the more liberal scientists had protested weapons, insisting they wouldn’t be needed on their new colony of Mars. Valentine had told them to shove it, informing them that if the rumors of a Phelb space craft were true, they’d need to fight sooner rather than later.

It took less than two hours, and Major Valentine was strapped into a seat next to Captain Herkins, who looked wide eyed and terrified worse than she was. At your order, Major. One of the pilots, a former MiG pilot from Russia said calmly over his shoulder.

Let’s go, She ordered, swallowing hard. This vehicle had been the total effort of the brightest, non-Phelb minds on the planet, with every new scrap of classified technology and data they had established, this sixty-three years since the first astronauts had landed on the moon.

The Vandor, a stupid code name in her opinion, shivered down her long spine and seemed to groan as it lifted off the concrete paddock. The heavy overhead doors groaned open and the sky was alit by contrails and flashing air craft as the last few resistance members, who would stay and fight to the death to allow the Vandor time to escape. The long, cumbersome vessel rose suddenly on its jets, the pilots talking in rapid, hushed tones as they adjusted and prepared to adjust for atmospheric flight. The big ship’s lights turned red and flashed ominously as a missile locked onto it, and then shuttered a moment later as its own big cannons fired back and wiped out an F35 with Israeli markings. Madaline flinched. Don’t stick around to fight, She ordered. Just get us out of here.

Aye, Major. The co-pilot replied, a dark-skinned woman from the African Union forces.

The ship pointed itself into the sky and fired its engines and climbed rapidly towards orbit, the battle below slowly dwindling into nothing as they reached the stratosphere.

Brace for artificial gravity, one of the engineers called. Just as weightlessness settled in, the gravity generator kicked on, and made the contents of Madaline’s stomach settle back into position. She closed her eyes and gripped her hand holds. Any sign of pursuit? She gasped.

No, Major, Someone replied, she couldn’t see who it was. The Phelb do not have vehicles able to reach us at this altitude.

Copy that. She replied.

What’s wrong? Herkins asked. The gravity load isn’t even one full G with the compensators.

Tell that to my stomach, She replied, gritting her teeth hard.

He chuckled. You’ll be okay.

Thirty seconds to normal space. The Russian pilot announced. We are clear of their orbital satellites, Major.

Engage the drive as soon as we are able. She ordered. Set course for Mars.

She sighed, her stomach easing slightly. This would be better. This would be the end of the war as humans knew it. No more need to try and kill each other, the two opposing groups were now safely away from one another. Nothing could ever be as simple.

SIX THOUSAND YEARS ago, my ancestor fled the world that we had called home for millions of years. A foolish war based solely on religious ideology, which should have long since faded into our past.

The brave souls that fled from Earth on the Vandor thought that the battles they’d endured on Earth would be the final they had ever had to face. Fleeing to Mars, they set up an entire terraforming system and rendered Mars inhabitable for the very first time in recorded human history. They lived there peacefully, refining their shipbuilding ability and mining the asteroid belt, never straying towards Earth. Instead, the Phelb army raced out of their solar system looking for their enemy; and located them on Mars. They once again struck with overwhelming force and drove the Martian settlers off their planet. They fled once more, this time setting up a miserable home on Pluto while they worked hard on a new, small fleet of ships.

Finally, when the Phelb found their laboratories on Pluto, the computer systems contained only a single message: "Catch us if you can." Then, much to the pleasure of Major Madaline Valentine and her people, the station detonated and destroyed the few ships the Phelbs had managed to build.

The survivors of the Phelb takeover on Earth headed for the Sagittarius arm of the galaxy, near the Omega Nebula. Near the Nebula, nearly fifty years after they’d struck out from Pluto, they located a world in the habitable zone of a Yellow dwarf star not unlike Earth’s own sun. They named this planet, appropriately, Vandor.

It would be nearly six thousand years before the new people of Vandor would discover that their ancient enemy had not forgotten; and had only grown more powerful.

My name is Destota Valentine. I am a child of Vandor, the leader of the Night Stalkers. I have lived the events which shaped our future, I have fought and destroyed more enemies than I can count. This is my story, told through my own eyes, so that others may know what became of Vandor.

Chapter One

Age Seventeen

IT’S ANOTHER LOVELY day in Crescent City, Perlimian Continent. The main seat of our civilization, one might say our Capital. We are ruled here, by the council of thirteen, who rule less with force than with a standard common sense that is...less than common amongst most humans. The day is hot, as it usually is this time of summer. We had chosen to continue the use of the Roman calendar on Vandor, because who was to argue?

I was standing in my parade best uniform, a variant of an ROTC program on Earth that was, part of our space navy, that we simply called, The Navy, because anything else lacks common sense. I stood next to my best friend and easily the second-best soldier in our unit, Ivata Noku. We stood at perfect attention as the landing craft that held our fathers, as well as many fathers of the other young men in our school, landed and were saluted as they headed for their debriefing.

They’d just won the biggest battle, and to be completely honest with ourselves, the first battle that Vandorians had ever won against other humans, that our people had ever seen. Over four hundred ships had been engaged in the actions, even ships that were on distant patrol routes around our Avian neighbors in the next system down-star had been pulled back to engage the Phelb armada that had wandered haplessly into our system. They were no match for our military and technological might.

My father nodded at me as he strode past, tall, imposing, tanned skinned and blue eyed, not unlike my own appearance. Since our settling here on this world, our scientists had tweaked the human genome a few times and the result was a genetic strength and heavy resistance to disease; cancer had been eliminated and now old age was a matter of opinion; Vandorians could now easily live beyond five hundred years. My father was considered as a young hero, even though he was two hundred and seven years old.

When the unit had passed us by, we were dismissed back to our studies. I removed my uniform in the sports locker room, carefully hanging it back on the ebony hangar made from the local type of hard wood known as cypris. My brother, who unlike myself, did not prefer a military career and instead chose to play sports, came up behind me and shoved me in the back. This worked better when we were younger, but since my sixteenth birthday when I received my own genetic modifications, I had rapidly filled out and grown massively muscled and reflexes faster than reason. The doctor had explained to my mother and father that sometimes there are unexpected synergetic effects of the modifications that all Vandorians received.

Hey, pretty boy, Myran Valentine, my elder brother said in his typically mocking tone. How was the parade? Did you look pretty in your stupid uniform?

I sighed inwardly. It seems no matter how far human beings advanced on the social and scientific scale, brothers still felt the need to bully brothers. On this day, however, I was particularly disinterested in his harassment and chose to ignore his comment. I resumed placing my uniform in my locker and shut the door. With a curt nod to Myran and his friends I turned to go.

Hey! One of his friends shouted at my back. I didn’t care which one, they were all equally dense in my eyes. Myran asked you a question.

I turned. While my brother liked his game in his free time, I preferred martial arts, and now being far taller and heavier, and just...faster, I really did not feel like having to explain to my father why my older brother was a bloody mess when we both got home. I remained silent, face impassive, and calculated his five friends and how fast I would need to move to take all of them out without any great effort or damage to me.

You got something you’d like to say to me, little brother? Myran asked, shoving my shoulder. Again, as with the shove to the back, I was not moved.

Go back to your game, Myran. I said softly. You aren’t strong enough to fight me and win, and I don’t want to explain this to mother.

I was known for being a little stuffy and informal. I had never had a girlfriend or a lover in my high school years and as a graduate next week, I had no intention nor need at this time, and besides, girls in my school thought I was too strange and formal and overly dedicated anyways.

What’s that? One of his friends with a stuffy nose asked. You want us to send you home to mommy hurting?

I exhaled softly. Just go. I said, still speaking softly. I’m also not one prone to much emotion, and I don’t usually speak loudly.

And what if we don’t? This guy spoke with a refined voice. The other two just crossed their arms and chuckled.

Please. I said. I looked into Myran’s brown eyes. I was the only member of the family that had inherited my father’s sapphire eyes and jet-black hair, high cheekbones and square jaw. My brother and my sister both more resembled my mother. As the middle child, I am not the favorite, nor have I ever received the most attention, nor do I wish those things. Myran, take your friends and go.

I became aware of a handful of other students my own age beginning to gather. Showdowns with my brother were not uncommon in this past year, and often spectators poked in to look.

Well, that just isn’t going to happen. Stuffy nose said.

I sighed as Myran stepped forward, then exhaled as I centered myself, focusing the strength of my genetic modifications on spiking my adrenaline and giving me clarity and speed. Myran’s fist seemed to approach me slower than it was really moving. I sidestepped, gripped his wrist in my left hand, and pulled him towards me. I drove my elbow into his temple as he was pulled off balance into me. I continued the motion and threw him into Stuffy and then leaned forward over my hips, extended my right boot out behind me in a lightning-fast thrust kick. Refined voice and his two friends moved at once. I brought my leg around to my right side fast, launching myself into a spinning head kick, taking two of them down with one motion.

I righted myself, fists in front of me, facing off against the last man standing, who appeared to be about a foot taller and have a hundred pounds on me. He took half a step forward and my fist shot forward and struck him hard in the center of the nose. He dropped like a stone and I turned to face my brother when a voice barked, Valentine! I stopped instantly and didn’t move, my hands dropping down and my spine stiffening to attention. My office, now! The voice barked.

It was Major Herkonson, the teacher, leader and Navy veteran of my officer selection program. I winced inwardly. Sir, yes sir.

I STOOD BEFORE A TALL, dour man with brown hair and eyes a startling shade of blue; black dress uniform, piped with silver and a chest adorned with medals. A recruiter, for a new training program that would, as I had been told, change the face of Vandorian Military.

Major Herkonson sat at his desk as I stood at attention before this man. Sir, how can I be of service to our military? I asked calmly. My full intention was the join a force within the Navy called the Void Jumpers, a group that was responsible directly for attacking enemy ships with hard and fast pinpoint strikes. They only accepted the best of the best, but if this recruiting officer was any indication, that was about to change.

Son, I know you’re going to enlist. Your father’s navy, since there aren’t any more badass positions within the military that would be suited for your unique skills, am I right?

I paused. Yes sir.

Well, what if there was?

I blinked four times before I caught myself and asked, Sir?

The tall man, a General, turned away from me and looked out the window. Valentine let me explain something to you. We know what happened, and we know what your ancestor did back on Earth. We also know that now that the Phelbs have found us, there is going to be a shit storm heading our way. They’re not going to stop attacking us until we stop them again. We need an elite unit. Beyond elite. The bastard your father fought up there, he is a High Priest, and he is named Devon Wrathe. We have very little intelligence about the state of their forces. We are creating an elite company of soldiers that we are calling simply The Unit to take the fight to them. We need elite young men that...

Sir, I interrupted. He immediately turned to me. Interrupting a high-ranking military officer was a mortal sin. I volunteer, sir.

He blinked at me a few times himself. I remained shock still and staring straight ahead.

You do? He asked, incredulous. You realize you and an entire company might be signing up for a suicide mission?

Sir, I replied. It is only a suicide mission if we do not accomplish our goal, sir. If our goal is the destruction of the Phelb, I respectfully ask permission to be the first to sign up to fight, sir. I said, committing another military sin and looking him in the eyes. Sir, permission to speak frankly?

The general folded his hands behind his back. Go ahead, son, this should be good. He grinned at Herkonson, who shook his head, seemingly in amazement.

"Sir, if you are aware of my ancestor