Nemesis

By Xlibris US

For his entire life, Emery Vannison has seemed to be preparing for something he has learned to handle a sword as an abbot would a cross and could shoot the wings off of a fly if need be but all for what seems to be wasted energy; he has never had to use any of these skills of his, but instead has only let them lie dormant within him and grow. But after Emery narrowly escapes death from a man clad in a black suit, he finds himself thrown into a new world where his sword is dyed a crimson red and his gun is as necessary to his survival as water and air. Emery's future is shrouded in danger and mystery and will surely put his skills to the test, but nothing could have fully prepared him for the road ahead and no one could have warned him of the sacrifices to come. Find out for yourself in...

Nemesis.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499063677

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Peyton Carl Slimp.

Library of Congress Control Number:        2014914687

        ISBN:        Hardcover        978-1-4990-6368-4

        Softcover        978-1-4990-6369-1

        eBook        978-1-4990-6367-7

All rights reserved. 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 copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 08/27/2014

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty- Five

Chapter One

A s death trailed him close behind, Emery ran.

What a miserable, dusty place to die, he thought. He had always imagined dying somewhere nicer— in a warm, comfortable bed maybe, staring glassily upwards at the family he never had and the friends he intended to make— but never did he imagine dying here, in this decrepit eastern solar system they called Tarn, on this mangled, poverty-ridden planet they called Kahzaar. What a terrible place to have to look back on as your last memory. As Emery saw it, the only thing worse than having to die here was having to live here instead; he felt pity for those who had to do both.

Not all was bad in this place, though. The sun was bright (and only a little too hot in the colder times of the year) and when it set, as it was doing then, it threw its wild colors upon the world like dainty fingers sweeping across the Kahzaarian desert, stretching over its sandy waves that expertly mocked the ocean this world never had, giving it the kind of life it always intended to harbor. If Emery were to have looked up then, he may have been somewhat content with dying here.

But Emery did not look up. He knew better than that. Besides, he hadn’t the time for sightseeing. At this moment, all he knew was run, so run he did, death trailing him close behind, running for or more-or-less what he would say was his life.

What landed him (quite literally) in this situation was pretty clear. You see, this what was actually a who and this who was the very same who that got him into every sticky situation he had ever experienced. That who was Captain Carver. To Carver, these sticky situations were meant to better Emery, but Emery never saw them that way. To him, they were burdens, and today’s burden came from Carver in a single, unmistakable sentence:

Grab the documents out of section forty-nine labeled ‘Classified’ and get out of the damn building like a criminal on death row.

So that was exactly what Emery did.

Upon entering the building, the situation seemed awfully counterfeit (Carver never did say what this building was, only where). A glare of about fifteen eyes turned to look at Emery as the large glass doors before him slid open. He walked casually for a few seconds, beads of sweat inching down the length of his jaw as his eyes shifted from one unfamiliar face to the next, until bolting for the nearest flight of stairs and up to the second floor, where he snatched the documents from the fourth shelf of section forty-nine and ran back down and out the door. Surprisingly, not a single person moved an inch while Emery did this. They all just stared and watched him sprint away.

As Emery peered back at the building, he thought he had escaped uncontested, but not but a few seconds later a tall man in a black suit had come out— a man who Emery immediately concluded was death— and in his hand was a gun— which Emery instantly saw as a scythe— that seemed to peer into his soul with hunger-driven anticipation. He began to rush after Emery as if he were maddened, and if Emery were more familiar with the man upon a personal level, he would understand how accurate this description was.

It was now five minutes later and both males were still sprinting through the crowd.

Emery barged his way through the streets, at the same time trying to keep a firm grip on the documents in his hands and also attempting at keeping up a brisk speed. He shot a quick glance behind him. The man was exceptionally fast. Even with a half-minute head start, Emery was ahead of him by only around fifteen feet or so.

It boggled Emery’s mind how, while the rest of his crewmembers upon the spaceship The Nesiah Seven leisured about town, doing whatever they were doing, he was stuck in a position like this. He couldn’t be too surprised, though. He always found himself on insane missions whenever their ship reached land. Carver had always said that Emery, a boy at the age of fifteen, was less likely to attract attention, so he was more fit than the others for thieving jobs like the one he was partaking in.

The only difference between this mission and the others Emery had been a part of was that no one had ever tried to kill him in the process. All Emery could hope for was that the documents better be damn important, because he sure as hell wasn’t content with risking his life over one of the captain’s cheap escapades to get rid of a parking ticket, which too often was the circumstance.

Emery crashed over a table in attempt to jump it, quickly scurrying back to his feet. The owner of the table hollered at him; all the contents which rested upon it now lied upon the ground in a pile of broken glass and porcelain, small lumps of what must have taken hours, days even, to complete, and probably consisted of the man’s entire fortune. Yet, Emery was in no mood to feel sorry for the man; all he knew was run, so he continued to run, death still nipping at his heels. Even in this state, though, he understood that he couldn’t run all day; eventually he would get tired and be forced to stop. Then he would be caught and sent to jail, where the crew would break him out and the only outcome of the mission would be a new warrant placed on the head of Emery Vannison. Or even worse, the man could shoot Emery, and instead of a warrant being placed on his head, there would be a bullet inside it.

Yes, the latter seemed most likely, as this man was death, and just as Emery solely understood at this moment to run, this death solely understood at all moments to kill. Emery knew nothing of this place and nothing of this death, but he hated both things with a passion.

The City of Kahzaar, which was the very city that Emery was running about that day, was the planet of Kahzaar’s only city, a wretched place held in by fortifications around each of its borders that let absolutely nothing in and just as much out. Every person that lived upon this planet lived within this city’s impediments, prisoners of these walls, lost souls stuck in an outlandish reality. Beyond these walls, the world was dangerous; everybody knew this— you grew up to fear that which laid its bearings beyond them. The townspeople didn’t know much, but they did know one thing for certain: the only thing you looked for outside of the city was death.

Death still found its way inside though. Emery could plainly see this. He could see that it was mobile and assaulted its prey like a virus, often by a warrant written simply for the demise of the hunted and very little for the gain of the hunter.

But even a virus has a cure and Emery understood that if he could find one, he would be safe for the time being. So he searched rapidly for anything he could use to dissolve himself from the eyes of his approacher. As he looked, there was much to see, for Kahzaar was a mess above all messes (this burghal was much more of a jungle than anything, a jungle of metal and stone), but only one idea, in this panicked state of his, came to mind. It seemed promising enough as long as it went right, but in this moment, where a broken promise could mean a loss of his life, promises weren’t all that comforting. Yet, they were all he had, so he took his chances on the assumption that the result would be the same if the promise were broken than if he never took the chance at it at all.

Swerving to the side, Emery leaped with his body towards the door of the nearest building to him. The metal entryway smashed open and Emery slammed the door shut behind him to buy some time. He rubbed his shoulder, realizing that it was not the best idea to try to force his way through a metal door.

He looked upwards. The building was cone shaped, a spiral set of stairs creeping its way along the walls and reaching all the way towards the pinnacle of the oddly shaped building. Emery immediately started to fumble up them, hearing the door crash open a few seconds later. He hoped his plan would work. If it didn’t, he was screwed.

He advanced up the stairs as quickly as he could, almost dropping the papers he held in his hands more than once. As he climbed, what seemed to be an eternity passed. He wondered when he would reach the top; it hadn’t seemed this tall from the outside. After a few more seconds (but to Emery, hours), just before he could conclude that the building had no peak and was some sort of architectural phenomenon, a small wooden entryway became visible. Emery quickly turned the handle of the door and rushed inside.

As if fate itself were aiding him, there, resting upon a small wooden table like an ornament was a gun. He reached for it and turned; just in time as the person chasing him came barging through the door.

And there they both stood, firearms aimed at each other’s heads, forcibly grim expressions struck on either face. Now that Emery had a better view, he could see, to his own shock and relief, that this man was not death after all. In fact, Emery himself was more similar to death than this man; this man was an ape, large and muscular with a hairy face, who knew nothing of death, who hadn’t the office to deliver such a gift. He may have been able to the day before this, or even the day after, but not that day. That was not his day.

I’m going to need you to set that gun down, the ape started, gesturing with his free hand for Emery to lower his gun. His voice, as expected, was a bit shaky, for his breath had shortened from all the running. I’m not going to hurt you.

I think both of us know that I won’t do that. Emery said back, slowly, continuing to hold his gun up. He dared not lower it.

Just give me those papers you got and I’ll let you free. I swear. No charges— nothing.

Emery paused for a moment. Tell me what happens if I don’t.

Well, I didn’t exactly get that far, the man said. But I think I’ll shoot your brains out, kid. You wouldn’t like that, now would you?

Emery was shocked— apparently he had really pissed the guy off— and Emery had to admit: even though he was doing his best to act calm, he was frightened. Xenith, the ship’s co-captain, had trained Emery since he was very young to handle a gun with dexterity and to handle a blade with such skill twice-fold to that which he handled a gun, but not until now had Emery been put face to face with a situation where such training became necessary.

Remembering why he was up there in the first place, Emery started to back away from the man, gun still pointing.

Where do you think you’re going? the man demanded.

Emery gave no reply, but simply continued to back up.

And then a look of realization shot across the man’s face; he knew exactly what the boy was doing. Emery dropped his gun.

No! the ape screamed, lunging forwards and flinging in the same direction the object that was in his left hand. He knew it was too late. Emery had already thrown himself backwards, crashing back-first through the small window behind him to an exceedingly long plunge. Could he even survive a fall such as this? The man looked outside the newly broken glass.

His chance of catching the kid was long gone now. The boy had already scurried out of the dumpster he had landed in and was running his way through the streets. In a matter of seconds, he was out of sight, lost amongst the crowd.

The ape reached into his pocket, pulling out his miniature radio communicator and shoving it into his ear. I lost the boy, the ape said tentatively into the clip.

A reply came back, slowly and calmly. It was an odd voice on the other end, no longer odd to the ape, but to one hadn’t heard it before, they would have found it to be quite odd. The power behind this voice was seemingly unprecedented, god-like, and it didn’t take a psychologist to understand that it was held by a man with the whole galaxy under his feet and an army to keep it that way. It was all too obvious just by the tone of his voice that these things were true.

I’m not happy. The voice was scratchy over the radio com, but there was something about it that was strangely soothing. Did you tag him?

I think so, the ape replied. The boy jumped and broke through a window, and that’s when I threw it at him. Broken glass covered most of his body, so I couldn’t exactly tell.

Let’s hope you’re right… I want you back at the Universi Building as soon as possible; punishment seems— there was a soft pause on the other end —necessary.

Yes, sir, the ape responded. He grimaced as he removed the clip from his ear. Typical.

He searched around before he left, spotting the boy’s gun lying on the floor. That dreaded gun was the whole reason why that stupid kid wasn’t in his grasp right now and why the man would most likely be sent to do time in the electric chamber once he got back to the Kahzaar Universi Corporation Building. He would have to spend most of the night wiping down and sterilizing his burns as he had done one too many times before in order to avoid infection. It was always a grievous process, often just as bad as the electric chamber itself.

The man reached down for the ground and grabbed the gun. He weighed it in his hands first before aiming it at the floor and pulling the trigger.

Dammit! the man screamed, flinging aside the piece of metal against the wall as hard as his body could muster.

The gun, miserably, wasn’t even loaded.

For a moment, Emery believed that he was dead. He had felt a sharp pain pierce his chest as he had crashed backwards through the window (the glass itself had enveloped him as if it were a liquid, seeming to suspend itself about him as he fell through the air, time slowing to a viscous crawl) and it was easy to assume that he had been shot. So his long plunge drew itself out, and by the end of it, he felt a gust of wind escape him as he landed, quite violently, atop a heap of trash that had been compacted into a nearly solid brick of garbage within the large dumpster that stood against the side of the cone-shaped building. He found himself unable to breath but rejoiced in the fact that he was still alive and that he still had both documents in hand. He soon forgot of the sharp pain that he had felt in his chest and scrambled out of the dumpster and took off back into the streets, keeping low and out of sight, he made his way back to the Nesiah Seven. At that point, they left the planet exactly as they had found it: broken and decrepit, a dying place fit for dying people, never to return back.

When Emery had arrived at the ship that day, he found Captain Carver in his office. He had handed the man the documents and watched as Carver set them upon his desk and instantly began to neglect them as he often neglected most things.

So, what are they? Emery asked, looking to Carver for some sort of indication of what they could be.

Carver shrugged. Old news. And that was that. Not another word on the subject, and never would another be spoken.

You know, he could take what I do a bit more seriously, Emery spoke, and Miri looked up from the plate of food she had been toying with for the past few minutes.

Apathy is his oxygen, Emery. You can’t expect much more than what you got.

Emery nodded. For whatever reason, he found himself somewhat comforted by that. Miri had this way about her that always left him feeling in place— he supposed that she had learned how to do this over a long period time; they had grown together upon the Nesiah for their entire lives, practically conjoined, and knew exactly what there was to know about the other.

I could have died, Mi. I almost did.

Yeah, Miri said, and she tossed her sleek, black hair to the side, allowing it to fall to the left and out of her face, but he doesn’t know that, and I doubt you’re going to tell him. I also doubt that it would make much of a difference if you did.

You’re right, I’m not going to tell him, and for good reasons.

Then you should quit complaining. There’s no need to worry about it. She smiled at him, and though he was frustrated, when he saw that smile, he couldn’t be any longer. He reciprocated it— it was such a pretty smile from such a pretty girl that he couldn’t help but do so. It was an involuntary reaction from him, as any man would have experienced.

Miri stood then (she had decided that she was finished with her food) and grabbed Emery’s hand. She tugged, ushering him to follow her. They began to walk and she let go of his hand. "Do you remember when Carver had Joer Arada try to clear that water cooler leak a while back?

Yeah.

It took him about three whole days just to figure out what was wrong with it and another to fix it, and at the end of it all, it turned out Carver knew what was wrong the whole time and it was just a test.

Yeah, Emery said. I remember. All it did was annoy him, though.

That’s my point.

Emery grunted. "Well, Carver and Joer don’t have the best relationship. Everyone knows that after what happened a few years ago; I can understand why Carver would want to pester him."

Miri laughed. But you’re much more fun to aggravate. They were both walking down the main area where all the cabins were now. Though, we are on this ship for a while, and it gets boring sometimes. Maybe he just wanted to give you something to do for once.

Maybe, but I wouldn’t place any bets on that thought.

Neither would I— though, I’ve never been much of a gambler, I wouldn’t really know what I’m talking about.

Oh shush. Miri laughed, and as it was impossible for Emery not to smile when she did, so was it impossible not to laugh along, too. That was just the way she was, and that was just the way he felt about her.

I guess you’re right.

Damn right I’m right. She winked.

He looked about them as they walked, but all of the details that encumbered the ship glanced by him without any recognition on his part. Emery was so used to it all that he was no longer, as some people were, astounded by its detail. It was a nice ship, though— large, but not too large, smaller than most cruise-liners or frigates, but a decent sized compared to the amount of people it fit. The whole topside of the Nesiah was where the ship was controlled within motion and also within weapon deployments and other necessary roles. The port side was where the cabins and the kitchen as well as the mess hall were located. Starboard side, along with the stern, was full of tangled engine parts and other mechanics.

Captain Carver had been granted the ship by the magistrates of the planet of Geraan, the purpose of the ship to, initially, build up a crew to keep the ship running and then to primarily negotiate interplanetary trades of matters relating to planetary ownership. In their forty years as a crew, they had managed to almost triple Geraan’s hold over the Armedian Arm, which pleased the Geraanian magistrates beyond belief. Fortunately for the crew, they did little work of this sort, for there was little work to be done, but managing the ship itself proved to be a hard enough task as it was, and so they kept themselves busy simply keeping the Nesiah going. Finances were of no issue to them; Geraan’s government, being decently wealthy, supplied to them more than enough money to sustain themselves and Carver himself was already an affluent man by cause of other means.

It’s late, Emery said and Miri agreed. After deciding that it was a good idea to sleep, they both exchanged goodnights and made their way separately back to their cabins.

Emery plopped himself onto his bed and looked out of his window. Stars sprinkled throughout space were just another normal feature of Emery’s daily view. Once in a very great while a nebula or supernova would appear in the distance. It was hard to miss the times they did; Captain Carver always announced it over the intercom. When those times came, Miri and Emery would usually go and sit on the deck inside the clear observation room located bow side. Here, Emery was, for just a moment, re-enlightened to a simple fact he often ignored— space was inherently beautiful in many aspects. It took his breath away with ease and consistency. There was really nothing else like it and he knew this. These were the moments he remembered how lucky he was to be out there, how great and carefree his life had really proved to be. But it all came and went and soon he would forget again.

Bored of the view, he stared up at the ceiling, then reached over and turned off his lamplight. Ignoring the slight pain in his left breast and letting the dim vibrations of the air ducts above him lull his mind, Emery’s eyelids grew heavy, until he finally let himself rest.

Chapter Two

E mery woke in a much better mood than he had been in before resting. Whatever kind of feeling it was he couldn’t exactly put his finger on, but it was something of fulfillment. He could already hear the bustle of workers outside his door.

He hadn’t stepped outside for more than a few seconds when Miri came up to him. Did you hear what’s going on?

That seemed ridiculous to ask, considering that he had just woken up. I didn’t even know something was going on, he replied.

Carver says we’re landing in Saraad Caafulus soon, she told him. Her eyes lit up after saying this.

Emery tried to remember what Carver had told him about Saraad Caafulus, or Saarad, which is what most people called it. It was a plures climates kind of planet, meaning Saraad was in a position just the right place away from its sun to have multiple climates. The only other planet in the Armedian Arm that was plures climates was Phenan, the commerce and business capitol of the galaxy. Planets with only one climate were called unus escendo. Those were, obviously, much more common. Saraad, in comparison to most planets, was ahead of the game, but they had their own problems as well. Economically they were falling short. They put so much money and effort into keeping the planet looking so utterly pristine that they completely neglected the existence of a budget. They were in a deficit that outmatched any other.

Around sixteen percent of Saraad’s population was human. The other part of the population was full of many other species, mainly Caafulans, natives of Saraad Caafulus. Caafulans were a group of smaller people. Most of them were no taller than five feet, even the ones fully grown. Their body structures were basically relative to humans wherein they had two legs, two arms, a head and torso, and had all this arranged in the same way a human body would. Besides that, though, Caafulans had more of a bright-yellow skin, and their faces were far more scrunched and round, with very large eyes. Their arms and hands were more frail and weak than that of a human’s, along with their legs. The only distinct advantages they had against others was their natural alacrity and defined intelligence, along with the fact that they could shoot guns unnaturally well, which commented on their stability.

There was only one Caafulan aboard the crew of Nesiah whose name was Riggus. All around there was two-hundred sixty-eight people aboard. Other species aboard included Ingens, a group of larger, human-looking people with much more strength than that of a human but a lot less intelligence (somewhat on the opposite end of the spectrum in comparing humans to Caafulans). The only Ingen Emery knew personally was Fauntle, who was quite the beast but typically not the brightest aboard the ship.

A larger group of the men and woman aboard were Seccals. Seccals had very rough skin; their faces were covered in these kind of black, miniature spikes that gave them an odd look, but otherwise they were very human looking. Around fifty dwarfish-looking people called Brevis aboard commanded most of the weapon firings, and some worked in the kitchen cooking. The other Brevis aboard maintained the engine. A few robots, whom of which, in accordance to their programming, tended to stay to themselves most of the time, were scattered about the ship. Emery had no clue what they did, but he saw them often. The last non-human was the only one of his kind, named Xenith. Xenith was a lupus, a group of people that were very wolf-like, aside from the fact that they spoke like humans and were similarly bipedal.

Emery always wondered how Carver had managed to find Xenith. Lupus were rare, to the point where they virtually didn’t exist anymore. Xenith, in fact, was the only one that existed at all in Armedia, or so Xenith himself thought, along with the others aboard the Nesiah. Emery heard of more, but of where he knew not. Aside from that though, Xenith was fast, intelligent, knew how to handle weaponry well, and had the might of an ox. He was considerably honorable and twice as polite. Xenith was Carver’s co-captain, though often he was more like a captain it seemed, for he was the one who always gave the orders while Carver tended to sit aside in silent exhibitions of peer analysis.

I hate planets, Emery exclaimed in response to Miri’s statement, groaning with displeasure equal to an amputee’s. Did he say why we’re landing there? It really didn’t make any sense.

I didn’t catch anything in specific, Miri said. All I got is that we should be landing in about a week. Why should it matter though? At least we get to go somewhere new, right?

Emery shook his head. This is the second time we have stopped off at a planet within the past three months. We’re never out here for such a short amount of time.

You’re just letting suspicion be the sake of your thoughts, Miri said back. And you act this way far too often. Just try to be happy we can leave this place for a little while.

Emery tried, but he couldn’t. If he didn’t know something was up before, then he knew now. Stopping at Saarad Caafulus most likely had to do with what the documents had to do with, and that didn’t give much help since he didn’t even know what the documents were for in the first place. He discarded the idea though, not permanently but just as a temporary solution in order to, reluctantly, abide by Miri’s advice.

They both made their ways to the mess hall, a late breakfast or an early lunch waiting for them inside. Emery was surprised that Miri hadn’t ate yet, but he just supposed she was waiting for Emery to wake up. Their footsteps, even with all the bustle of people running around the ship preparing for landing, were surprisingly loud, as if they were stomping their feet to let people know they were walking by. Emery soon noticed it was only his feet making so much noise. His body was tense; his feet were heavy.

In the mess hall, there weren’t too many people, and all of them basically kept to their own groups of closer friends. That was the way it got on the ship; everybody had their entire lives to decide who within the crew