Tyche's First: Tyche Origins, #1

By Richard Parry

Nathan Chevell has four hours to stop the fall of an empire.

As Captain of the Emperor's Black, it's Nate's job to protect the Ruler of all Humanity. But the discovery of an assassin close to the throne means Intelligencers, new agents who can read and control minds, are deemed better for the Emperor's safety.

With the Black ordered to stand down, terrorists strike the Palace. Nate still believes his job is to protect the Emperor, even if it means dying. He must discover the threat against the Emperor before it's too late. If he doesn't, the Empire will crumble.

Tyche's First is the first story in Richard Parry's gripping Tyche Origins hexalogy. If you like page-turning space opera with great dialogue and heart-pumping action, grab your copy. Also in the Tyche Origins collection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mondegreen
• Release date: Nov 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9780995109001

Book preview

Tyche’s First

Tyche’s First

A Space Opera Adventure Story

Richard Parry

Mondegreen

Contents

Get On The List

Five Years Back

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Now

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the Author

Also by Richard Parry

Glossary

Acknowledgments

EXCERPT: TYCHE'S CHOSEN

The End of War

TYCHE’S FIRST copyright © 2018 Richard Parry.

Cover design copyright © 2018 Mondegreen.

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All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9951090-0-1

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First edition.

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No parts of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form without permission. Piracy, much as it sounds like a cool thing done at sea with a lot of, Me hearties! commentary, is a dick move. It gives nothing back to the people who made this book, so don’t do it. Support original works: purchase only authorized editions.

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While we’re here, what you’re holding is a work of fiction created by a professional liar. It is not done in an edgy documentary style with recovered footage. Pretty much everything in here was made up by the author so you could enjoy a story about the world being saved through action scenes and clever dialog. No people were used as templates, serial numbers filed off for anonymity: let’s be honest, October Kohl couldn’t be based on anyone real. Any resemblance to humans you know (alive) or have known (dead) is coincidental.

Published by Mondegreen, New Zealand.

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Five Years Back

Nate had four hours before his arm, leg, and Emperor were lost to him. Dom? You can’t do this.

I dunno, Nate, said Dominic Fergelic, Emperor of all humanity. I’m pretty sure the job title means I can do what I want. He wasn’t an asshole about it, a slight smile playing at his lips. He’d never been an asshole about it as far back as Nate remembered.

They were in the Morning Room, ceiling high above their heads, sunlight playing hide and seek with the antiques arrayed on plinths around them. Everything here was rustic, not a console or holo in sight. The Emperor had people for that kind of thing. The Emperor took his breakfast in here as a general rule. Breakfast had been interrupted today. Dom wasn’t looking at the stain on the lush pile carpet, or the charred outline that — if you squinted — might have looked like a person’s shadow against the wall.

The Emperor stood before the vaulted windows overlooking the palace gardens. Out those windows, herons walked in picturesque lakes, long beaks investigating cooler waters at their feet. Manicured hedges dotted the view. Several of the palace staff were outside, walking, talking, or generally avoiding work they should be doing, the white of their clothing bright in the sun.

Nate didn’t call any of that picturesque. It looked like a damn fine place to hide a couple of snipers. The windows were armored, sure, but since the promotion to head the palace guard, his black collar felt just a little tighter, a noose made of stress and politics. Nate tossed a hopeful look at Yvette Gutierrez, Dom’s assistant. She stood by the tall windows, arms crossed. Yvette raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. Well, it’s not like she’s on your side. Aside from the three of them, there were two of Dom’s elite — the Emperor’s Black — guarding the door. One was a tall, lean man, the other a shorter, lean woman. Both capable, trustworthy. No one commented on the lingering smell of barbecue on the air. You can be a bit more free with your language. Nate sighed, resting a hand on the butt of his blaster. Of course, your worship. Dom hated being called your worship.

The Emperor’s lips twitched. Let’s not get personal, hey? Nate—

"I mean, hell, Dom, it’s not like there was an assassin right there, and he stabbed a finger at the stained carpet, ten minutes ago." Nate sometimes wished Dom was at least two percent of an asshole. It’d make arguing with him more satisfying. Despite the low asshole quotient, Dom wasn’t giving a millimeter. Still, a man had to try. They were talking about the life of the Emperor of all humanity, after all.

That’s why I need my Intelligencers on this one, Nate, said Dom. They can read minds. Change minds.

Kind of what I’m worried about, said Nate. You ever figure they’re changing your mind?

Me? said Dom. He ran a hand down the dress jacket he wore. Black, some fake medals peppered on his chest. He must have a meeting with some ass-world envoy later. Why would they do that?

Usual reasons, said Nate. Power. Influence.

They already have all they could want, said Dom.

Nate teetered his hand side to side in the air. Eh.

You don’t agree? Yvette had finally joined the conversation. Nate wasn’t sure which way this was going to go, but to hell in a hand basket was likely. She’d been against him becoming Captain Chevell. Like the argument Nate was losing against the Emperor right now, she’d lost that one. Dom tended to get his way. Maybe it was the whole Emperor shtick?

No, said Nate. He flashed her a smile, showing lots of teeth. Thanks for your support, though.

Captain Chevell, my interests align to the Emperor’s, not yours. Yvette drew in a breath like she was winding up for something important. Because—

Great, said Nate, turning to Dom. "The thing is, they don’t have everything. They’re servants, Dom. Mind-reading, mind-controlling servants."

Yvette rallied. They sit at the highest table.

Still one seat higher, said Nate.

"Why is it that you don’t covet the Emperor’s chair? said Yvette. You head his Black. What makes Nathan Chevell so different from the Intelligencers? We are all servants."

Silence sat in the room like an extra person. Dom, waiting. Yvette, the smell of triumph about her. Nate, hand still on his blaster. He sighed. I get it, he said. You’ve still got that new starship smell. Nate held up a hand, forestalling her objections. "Yvette? I don’t want Dom’s job. It’s a shitty job. It’s a hard job. I don’t even want my job, because this guy, and he jerked a thumb at Dom, won’t let me do it properly."

Dom walked away from the windows to stand by the carpet stain. He looked at the burnt patch of wall. "Nate? We’re at war. There is a Resistance trying to topple the throne. They send assassins into my palace. Yes, you shot this one. But you didn’t know he was here, Nate. If you could read minds, you’d have known. If you could change minds, you could have turned him. Uncovered the plot. As it is, all we’ve got is the smell of burning hair and a bill for new carpet. It smells like someone barbecued a dog."

Plasma will do that to a guy. Nate sighed. I’ve got your back, Dom. I can do this.

You can’t, though, Captain, said Yvette. She held a hand out, palm up, toward the stained carpet. Yes, you shot an assassin. But the real prize is making sure there are no assassins in the room to start with.

Don’t worry. You’re not obsolete. Dom walked to Nate, clapped a hand on his shoulder. Someone who’s got my back will never go out of style.

Obsolete. That was an uncomfortable word. Nate looked Dom in