Ashia: The Rebels and The Conquerors: Star Runners Universe

By L.E. Thomas

Survival is everything.
 

The fleet orbiting Ashia has not come to negotiate. They have come for conquest. 

The primitive weaponry of the Ashia people is no match for the onslaught of an intergalactic adversary during the initial invasion. When fighting an unwinnable war against the invader seeking to crush their existing way of life, Shanda Vanaad decides to lead her people to the end and make them bleed for every advance.

When his leaders charge Commander Gray Radman with taking the planet of Ashia but place restrictions on his tactics, he tries to keep his forces alive in a hostile land while fighting the unrealistic expectations of an empire accustomed to victory. 

Soon, the struggle descends into a savage slugfest across Ashia. But on the brutal battlefields of a planet fighting for survival, can there be a winner?

Ashia: The Rebels and the Conquerors is the third novel taking place on a dark world within the Star Runners Universe's unfolding events. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shadow Max Publishing
• Release date: Dec 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393369479

L.E. Thomas

L.E. Thomas lives in the Appalchian Mountains in the southern United States with his wife and rescued dog. He is currently working on his next novel. 

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Soil, black as a night without stars, chilled Shanda Vanaad's fingertips. Deeper they plunged, sliding through dirt until they hit rock. Pausing, she inhaled salty air of the Western Sea as a breeze swayed ancient trees around the fishing village of Molan. Her belly twitched, the baby growing restless in the fading light of day.

Of course, she said, rubbing her stomach, you're right.

With a groan, she stood from the garden lined with colorful vegetables added to their table each night, stretching her back until it popped. Fires sparked to life along the beach like beacons calling the tiny fishing vessels home. The ships, captained by former warriors long past their prime as Mazomi Warriors or members of the defunct Queen's Guard, would be home by the time the sun dropped out of sight.

But not Atillo Kine.

Squinting, she searched the shallows in front of their simple hut with the straw roof, the place they'd called home for nearly a year. A dozen paces into the water, the surface lapping against his knees, Atillo stared into the water with a spear cocked over his head. Even from this distance, seriousness exuded from his dark eyes, the grim expression evident through the thickening beard speckled with salty white.

With a fluid motion, he thrust the spear into the water and ripped it back just as fast. A flailing fish thrashed on the sharp tip as he held it high. Grinning, he waded toward the hut.

Her stomach rumbled.

She whispered, We'll eat soon, love.

By the time the sky turned black, Atillo had the fire roaring. She watched Atillo nurse the fire until the coals burned a sharp orange. The smell of fish and cooking potatoes filled the air as they sat in silence. Their eyes met through the flames. She smiled, a warmth greater than any fire filling her. Soon, the weather would become too cold for eating on the beach as frigid winds coming across the ocean would precede ice and snow.

In the months following the war, brutas arrived in hopes she could help them. This season, eight had made the journey north seeking the removal of implants, a procedure she had learned to do by placing their mind in stasis while Atillo removed the device from their temple. Long ago, she had only used the ability to cradle a being’s mind on seepas, removing poison from a wound. Now, she was treating humans warped and tortured by Adalric’s ancestors. But none had come searching for her treatment since the last moon. Maybe, the previous incident had truly been the last time. Her world had changed, and gladly so.

Looking at the growing bulge in her stomach, she tried to imagine the future for her child. The Ashia and the Cartada, along with the Khanga, would be ushering in their new era of peace and prosperity without her, beginning a time of equality where every person's voice mattered. Would her child seek a life in the south? Or would they choose to stay in Molan and live quietly?

She shivered as a cool breeze touched her face.

Tea? Atillo asked.

You always know what I want, she said, hunching toward the fire.

He pulled a steaming pot from the fire and poured into a black mug. It's what husbands do.

Cradling the warm beverage on her lap, she blew steam from the drink. And you've always done it so well.

Atillo grunted, using a knife to probe the sizzling fish. We're almost ready.

Despite the cold, he wore the same sleeveless leather shirt nearly every day, revealing toned muscles and skin scarred from countless battles. They rarely spoke of the days in Ashia, but the memories always lurked beneath the surface. The past struggles appeared in the lines on his face, the distant stares without focus.

A part of her often wondered how Alastair was handling her new role as Guardian and how the assimilation of the Cartada horde proceeded. The images of those recent events plagued her first weeks in Molan, ripping her from sleep with horrid nightmares. Atillo had begged her to shut out the visions, said he had grown tired of allowing prophecies and shadowy threats to guide their lives. He wanted peace and asked her to join him.

It wasn't easy at first but, finally, the visions ceased, thanks to meditations. Slowly, she blocked the ceaseless images from the South by focusing on her garden.

And Atillo.

And the baby.

And … nothing else.

Shanda's face slackened as the flame's fingers twirled high. Following the orange light flickering to the heavens, she gazed into the stars.

Such a beautiful sight, she thought.

For years, she didn't appreciate the beauty of the night sky. She only searched for the arrival of more ships, friend or foe, to reach their world. Now, she peered into the sparkling heavens the way she once did with the tribe on the Magafhi Flats. Jediah, her only friend in those days, would entertain her with tales of visiting other villages and towns, speaking of cultures and customs she could only dream of seeing.

She focused on a trio of bright stars, gleaming bright as ice in the sunlight, and leaned her head back. The star on the right slid down—

What? she asked, her mouth hanging open.

Huh? Atillo grumbled without looking from the fish.

Shanda leaned forward, her face still toward the sky. The cluster of stars moved together, sweeping across her view More pinpoints of light emerged, faint at first, but growing brighter as they moved down.

Stars are moving, she breathed.

They do that.

I'm serious.

Taking a deep breath, Atillo tore his attention away from his catch. If I burn this fabulous dinner to watch a meteor shower—

No. She pointed toward the horizon. There.

Rolling his eyes, Atillo stared with contempt toward the horizon, but his expression soon softened. "What is that? They're moving too slow to be shooting stars."

Shanda swallowed, a sinking feeling filling her. The unease persisted, and she rolled her shoulders around once as if she could shake off the discomfort, but it remained as if someone—or something—watched.

Other members of Molan stepped away from their cooking fires, their eyes on the horizon. Their closest neighbors, Tareal and Nova, embraced one another as she thrust a finger toward the growing number of lights illuminating the heavens. Nova smiled as if she watched a natural phenomenon.

But Shanda didn't smile. She couldn't escape the feeling... someone watched.

Atillo turned toward her and swallowed. Feel anything?

She jolted back, her lips parting. Are you... asking what I think you're asking?

He nodded once.

Closing her eyes, she opened her mind to the possibilities. Nothing happened for a heartbeat. And then …

Thoughts flooded like water through a burst dam. She gasped. It fell faster than she could register.

Cooking fish. Waves. The baby kicking. Nova's soft skin under Tareal's fingers.

Focusing, she pulled back and calmed her vision the way Thalia had trained.

As her pounding heart slowed, the images coalesced into one solid picture.

A man stood straight and rigid as a statue. He wore a dark crimson uniform the color of dried blood. Commanding and dominating, he surveyed others with close-set, piercing eyes. A bright image burned in front of him like magic fire, flashing and hissing for an instant. Two structures came into focus, revealing the above view of—

She sucked in a sharp breath, opening her eyes and looking to Atillo.

Are you all right? he asked.

Trembling, she shook her head. They're watching us.

He frowned. Who?

She looked to the points of light moving toward the sea.

"They are," she whispered.

CHAPTER 2

The magnificent collection of military strength dropped into orbit, forming on the dark side of the primitive planet. The last vessel, a troop transport ship called the  Starry Night , fell out of Lutimite Space far behind the task force.

Admiral Gar Haskin grimaced. "Contact the Starry Night," he grumbled, his voice cutting through silence on the bridge of the All-Purpose Response Cruiser Justice. Kindly remind them they are part of the Zahlian Navy, not some tramp freighter. 

The young lieutenant, a first-year junior officer named Karn, blinked. Sir?

Haskin pointed toward the short-range operational hologram hovering over them. They are out of position by at least half a macro-unit. Get them back in line before the next orbit!

Yes, sir!

The crew bolted into action, even officers and crew he hadn't addressed. All eyes focused on stations, lips pulled close to headsets as comm chatter continued. No one looked at him.

Haskin fought back a smile. It's efficient for a CO to bark now and then, he thought. Keeps the crew on their toes. 

As activity bustled around him, he pulled a tablet from under his arm and gave it a look. Other than the lagging Starry Night, the task force had rendezvoused on schedule at CA-921, locally known as Ashia. A cluster of Tridents possibly under Legion command had been sighted upon arrival. After promptly being threatened with arrest, they fled immediately through curves. Three Zahlian ARCs and numerous support craft formed in preparation for their first orbit, ready for the next stage in the invasion.

Eagle Eye report in, yet? he asked, still focused on the tablet.

Karn nodded. Just now, sir.

Main viewer.

With a quick motion, a petty officer at the front of the bridge raised a control glove over his screen, made a fist, and tossed the image from his hand to the main viewer. The display from the observation satellite sizzled before normalizing. Haskin squinted. 

Enhance sector thirty-eight, he said, stepping behind the petty officer.

Yes, sir. Enhancing thirty-eight.

The image pixelated for a second then cleared to reveal a perfect bird's eye view of where he intended to land his forces on the most densely populated landmass. One settlement close to the sea boasted a collection of buildings around a tremendous structure. Others with less population remained farther out in the desert and near the southern pole.

Haskin rubbed his smooth chin. Damned Legion rats.

Lieutenant Karn stepped next to him as if to protect the petty officer from his wrath. Could be smugglers, sir.

He swiveled on his heel. Is there a difference?

Lowering his head like a scolded dog, Karn turned back to his screen.

Despite his retort toward the lieutenant, Haskin knew the young man might have been right. Perhaps these settlements had nothing to do with the Galactic Legion, but ascertaining the indigenous population's origin was not part of his orders. Two large structures below had the appearance of generational ships that had landed long ago. Long-range scans showed a third ship locked amid a glacier along the southern pole, but what mattered was the forested region to the North: the largest Lutimite deposit in the known galaxy was under the soil.

And he was here to take it.

Captain Karnoff?

Teri Karnoff moved away from the science station, her boots pounding the polished deck. Admiral?

Haskin spun on his heel, noticing the strands of her auburn hair escaping the bun under her black beret. Have you started the geological scan of the target sector?

She nodded. The moment we entered orbit. Should be completed in six hours.

Very good. Slow our orbit until my command. The rest of the force is following your lead, Captain. Maintain Eagle Eye's position until further notice.

The corner of her full ruby lips arched. Very good, Admiral.

Karnoff took command of her bridge, barking orders. Haskin couldn't help but smile at her efficiency. She was the primary reason he named the Justice as his flagship for this operation so close to Legion territory.

A prodigy in the academy, Karnoff had come to his attention in her second year when she topped the class in all her core sessions. Others wondered if she utilized her natural beauty and other attributes to gain these stellar grades. Still, Haskin thought it was her inherent ability to lead catapulting her through the ranks. However, he wanted to observe her in person to determine whether or not she deserved promotion after two years of serving on the Justice. So far, he hadn't been disappointed.

Marching away from the activity, Haskin clasped his hands behind his back and halted before the starboard viewport. He peered at the dark world of Ashia, studying the faint outline of land touching the sea before a thick layer of clouds blocked his view. He wondered if the people down there saw his gathering force that would soon end their way of life.

Do you have any idea what's coming? he whispered.

He sighed. Ashia would be the sixth world in his career he had subjugated under Zahlian control. The most recent was a dark world on the other side of Zahlian space formerly known as Tarrafa. That particular campaign had gone swiftly, but then again most never lasted longer than a standard Zahlian month before the local population had been pulverized and contained.

Intelligence claimed the Legion had been encroaching into the Frontier and had tried to set up outposts on Ashia. The Legion, of course, had responded by proclaiming the Zahlian Empire was fabricating excuses for invasion due to the rich Lutimite deposits.

And on and on the politicians talked, the same way they'd done his entire career.

They always leave us with another war to fight, he thought. The Legion should be put in its place, removed from being the obstacle to progress so the galaxy could improve and develop. Imagine the wonders of an unobstructed universe under Zahlian rule, run through discipline, scientific research, and peace.

But it wasn't his position to make such decisions. He would follow his orders. Right now, those directives included taking this planet and securing it for the Empire.

And he had other plans to ensure he'd receive all the credit for this magnificent acquisition.

He pulled himself from the viewport and snapped his finger toward Karnoff's Executive Officer, a man named Silvio Chaffin.

Ready my shuttle, he said as Chaffin marched forward. It's time I visit our troops that will be establishing the first beachhead.

CHAPTER 3

Golden wind chimes with a polished Argentum base reverberated and sent a relaxing hum through the pinnacle of the Ashia . Alastair Prism smiled and stared out at the sunlight beaming rays onto the calm surface of the Western Sea.

The Ashia.

No one referred to the city the way they once did. Since the arrival of the Cartada and the acceptance of the Khanga's existence, more citizens began to accept the world they knew was merely one of the countless stars in a vast sea of... what? What was out there?

The thought kept her up at night. She spent hours in the observatory gazing at the stars, wondering at the possibilities in the stunning pinpoints of light. When she was young, she sat around the campfire and listened to her father tell stories of the constellations. She learned of the Mystirian legends, cursed Seer Witches, the Vika Clan and the appropriate role of the Fakura in society.

But they had just been tales, stories to entertain others around the campfire.

She didn't blame her father. He had just been recounting stories told by his own family and passed down for generations. No one had any idea of what was coming.

The dark, slender shape of the Cartada loomed in the morning light. Appearing newer and sleeker than its counterpart on the Magafhi Flats, the Cartada had terrorized the people of Ashia for most of the previous year. So many perished. Now, the two spires on the desert prepared to usher in an era of peace and prosperity unknown in the annals of history.

She swallowed.

The election was happening today. It was her job to ensure the process was honorable and genuine, revealing the people's will. Such a change of power had never occurred, and she was sure the tremendous responsibility was a significant cause of her difficulty sleeping. The newly elected government would bear the burden of not only enforcing law and order but conducting a trial of Lord Adalric for his crimes against the people of Ashia.

Tilting her head forward, she reviewed the recent report of polling places constructed in the marketplace and tried to focus. In her last act as Queen, Shanda put this burden on Alastair. She intended to see it through. If all went well, the votes could be counted before morning.

Then, perhaps, there would be time to rest.

Sturdy heels pounded the floor.

Hello, Tomak, she said without looking up. How are we this morning?

Pretty fair, Your Grace.

That made her look at him. What have I told you about that?

Tomak arched his eyebrows. Habit, ma'am.

She smiled. The Queen named me to this position the same way she appointed me as minister all those years ago. Believe me; there's nothing divine about what I'm doing.

I disagree, he said without delay. Respectively, of course. I think—many of us think—you've done an admirable job seeing us through the past several moons. There should be a celebration in your honor. Perhaps a reward—

My reward will be the successful transition of power to the newly elected body of representatives, she interrupted him, uncomfortable with the shower of compliments. And, of course, a restful retirement following the transition. I have always served for the good of the people, and will continue to do so until my last day.

Tomak hesitated. As you wish.

Alastair eyed him. Anything else this morning, my old friend?

The laborers worked through the night to finish the polls. We have enough to handle the population here in Ashia. He gestured toward the Cartada. I've been told the same is happening across the sand. As you commanded last week, there will be no segregated polls for brutas and other citizens under Sykstus.

She winced. The former King's name sounded like poison burned the tip of his tongue. The feeling prevailed among many in Ashia who had lived through the tyranny of Sykstus. However, the near apocalypse suffered from the Cartada's arrival had forced many to force old hatreds to remain in the past if the world was to move forward.

Thank you for seeing to the equality of the polls, she said. This was the Queen's wish. You and I will be witnesses to history. After today's elections, the world we were born into will no longer exist. Our descendants will have the means to make the world as they dream it to be, not as a dictator forces upon them.

Tomak nodded, casting a wary glance toward the Cartada. I hope you're right, ma'am. I truly do.

With a bow, he left the throne room, leaving her to the warm sound of wind chimes.

By the time the sun had reached its zenith, her stomach grumbled, and she pushed the chair back from the table.

Time for a break, she whispered, moving to the eastern portal and placing her hands on the railing.

Far below, the marketplace showed none of the usual activity. Instead of bustling crowds under colorful tents, the fresh-cut lumber of the new polling places glowed in the sun. Alastair had ordered the merchants to Dredun Square and some to the sand just outside the gates. She knew they had to make money, but the election superseded everything.

Her eyes swept over the peaceful city, images of its near destruction still fresh. Perhaps the generation born today wouldn't have to remember such a time. Maybe they would grow to love this city as she did, and never have to wonder if Ashia would fall.

With that in mind, she focused on the sprinkling of guards on the walls. The war had decimated the Queen's Guard, and she wondered if the new politicians would add more to police the two spires.

She shrugged. It wouldn't be her problem.

She watched one guardsman, his black leather armor glistening with fresh oil, place his hands on his hips and stare east. Bringing a scope to his eye, he shouted to a nearby comrade who thrust a finger toward the Cartada.

Alastair looked to the sister ship across the Flats. She remembered crossing the sands to greet the Cartada after it had first arrived. Shanda wanted to welcome the ship, and Alastair felt honored to lead the delegation, but her heart had been pounding the entire way.

Now, she wondered what had caught the guards' attention. An incoming aircraft?

For a pair of heartbeats, she saw nothing in the skies or on the ground. In fact, nothing stirred in or around the ancient ship.

Odd.

She was about to turn away and get back to work when movement near the Cartada's base caught her eye. The bay doors flickered with light.

Hmm, she murmured. "Elias, did Tomak say anything about receiving the morning update from the Cartada? What does Volta have to report?"

Elias, her guard and escort when she passed through the city for inspections, stepped away from his post near the door. Alastair had hated Tomak insisted on giving her a guard assigned to her wellbeing, but he said the people needed the assurance of continued leadership during this transition and he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Besides, she had grown to like the strapping young Elias and his company. If she had been about twenty years younger—

I do not believe we've received that report, ma'am, he said, cutting through her thoughts. Strange.

She pursed her lips. Indeed. It's usually here before Tomak.

I believe so, ma'am.

Waving her hand, she said, I'm sure it's nothing. Everyone is a bit jumpy because of the election. Did you know I once—

Ma'am, Elias interrupted in his deep voice, nodding toward the Cartada. Look.

Alastair turned around and saw nothing of interest. Picking up her telescope from the table used recently for nothing more than birdwatching, she captured a closer look at the Cartada’s.

A line of armored brutas marched in rigid fashion toward the sand, moving from the Cartada as if on a military maneuver. Polished obsidian sparkling in the sun, the brutas moved in unison as if they were programmed automatons. Remembering the sight of the horde first appearing on the sand, a shiver rippled down her back as Elias stepped next to her.

A celebration of some kind? he asked, peering through his scope. For the election?

Acid burned the back of her throat. I... guess that is possible. She paused, watching the brutas filling the sands and wondering why Sykstus would order such a display.

On they came, pouring from the bay doors. Curling her lips back, she said, Regardless of what they have planned, please summon Tomak back to the throne room. I'd like to get his opinion on this little... display.

Elias bowed and hurried out the room, leaving her alone at the eastern portal.

CHAPTER 4

S trike him again!

The guard hesitated, the whip falling to his side. He looked to Rolan Mako.

Sykstus Vanaad raised a finger. Did you not hear me, guard?

Nodding, the muscular man shimmering with sweat resumed. The whip cracked across Adalric's back, splitting flesh. The young man wailed, sweat and blood dripping to the floor in a swirling crimson pool.

Adalric's black hair matted to his skull, soaked with perspiration as he attempted to maintain his psychic hold over the brutas. The buzzing amplifier remained on the floor nearby, allowing the Seer to re-establish contact with his former troops.

With his bound fists trembling, Adalric winced and cried, The second division of brutas are moving into position a—a—and await your command!

There! Was that so difficult? Sykstus turned to Rolan. I believe the young Seer has earned his rations. Shall we leave?

Rolan dismissed the guard. As Sykstus left the temporary brig holding his most prized possession, the boots of a thousand brutas reverberated through the Cartada's hull.

Inform the Guardian's representative our ‘display of unity’ is about to begin, Sykstus said with a grin. I'm sure Volta will be most surprised.

Rolan bowed and left as Sykstus entered the room had called his own since the Queen made her decision for the so-called new era.

He snorted. Rubbish.

Sykstus stood before the grand mirror left by the previous occupants who had been officers in Adalric's forces. He surveyed the ensemble he had prepared for today's events. A blood-colored velvet cloak ceremonial orange robes he'd worn the day before rebels forced him from the Spire. He stared