In the Wake of Chaos - Second Edition: Paladin Shadows, #4

By Aidan Red

Being alive, knowing Greg's secrets and being with him felt wonderful! But it was only a matter of time before the slavers realize that she had escaped and would come for her again. Greg's mission was over and he  have to leave, reassigned to fight another part of their vial treachery, and she would once again have to face them…alone, armed only with the help of her few loyal friends and her newly awakening talents.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aidan Red
• Release date: Nov 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781946039590

Book preview

IN THE WAKE OF CHAOS...

Terran Recruits Part 1

Second Edition

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PALADIN SHADOWS SERIES, BOOK 4

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A Novel by Aidan Red

Copyright

Paladin Shadows Series Book 4

Terran Recruits; Part 1, In the wake of chaos

Second Edition

Second Edition Copyright © 2021 by Aidan Red

All Rights Reserved

Revision Date 10/25/21

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This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the publisher.

This novel is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, dialogue, locations, events and plots are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published by Red’s Ink and Quill, Wichita, KS

For information on other works by Aidan Red, Science Fiction and Fiction, published or forthcoming, visit RedsInkandQuill.com

eISBN: 978-1-946039-59-0

Softcover ISBN: 978-1-946039-60-6

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My many thanks to my

Second Edition editors.

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Content Editing by Trenda London,

Facebook: ItsYourStoryContentEditing

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Copy Editing by Amy Jackson,

Copy Editing and Proof Reading, http://AmyJacksonEditing.com

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Cover by

Aidan Red

IN THE WAKE OF CHAOS...

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With Point Obscure overthrown, captured, and in the hands of the Peace Force, Greg tried to help Shara and Jill settle into the new realities of their lives. The nefarious slavers and their local Terran leader, Judge Bernice, though shaken and defeated for the moment, were still alive, and still a very real threat. Shara knew their small piece of high ground—the fact that the slavers thought she and Jill had died—was only temporary at best. Greg and Cheral had to report to their commanders for new assignments, and without their daily support, their gains were tenuous at best.

Shara knew her life and safety depended on herself and Jill. Her plan to hide on her ranch and remain publicly dead looked like it might work until Nick Jordan was taken by the slavers and Judge Bernice came to claim the ranch by family succession.

Chapters

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Prologue

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Glossary

Preview

Books by Aidan Red

About the Author

Prologue

Sunday, October 23

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In the early morning hours, Shara and Greg’s attack on the Traders’ secret launch facility, Point Obscure, raged on. Shara had led Bill Woods, Doug McIntire, and Rosalee Mitchell through the maze of corridors and unidentified chambers in search of Jill Thomas, and as many other captives as they could find.

Greg and Nick Jordan cautiously worked their way deep into the core of the complex, planting explosives to create distractions for Shara’s search and to interrupt the imminent launch of a Traders’ Union freighter and a Kyddellan diplomatic frigate.

In the siege on the launch control room, Stran came face to face with his half-brother Hew, known locally as Howard, whose complete focus and intent was to kill anyone trying to stop the launches. Their ensuing laser exchange left Hew dead, the control system in ruins, and unknowingly broke the back-door link, disabling the space station QuickSilver and instantly releasing it from the ominous fate that hung before it: the possibility of tumbling out of orbit with no means of escape.

Unaware of the fortuitous deed, Greg pressed on, destroying the navigation guidance center and then taking his fight into the launch bay as Shara led her group and the few captives she found up the stairs and balconies on the south launch bay wall, toward the potential safety of the surrounding forest just beyond.

Realizing the freighter was preparing to launch without the support of the facility, Greg climbed up into the forward landing strut well and dropped a series six canister into the equipment bay just forward; he dropped to the bay floor and barely made it to cover before freighter began to lift. The explosion of the canister interrupted the departure and the ship succumbed to gravity, crashing heavily onto the bay floor.

Greg dismissed the scene and turned his attention to the diplomatic frigate, but his heart sank when he saw Jill being forced aboard. He knew her only hope was for him to get on board himself, find her and find a way out before they could launch.

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C.3482.315

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Commander, the communications officer called in Galactic Standard as the wing commander entered the escort cruiser’s Bridge. The communications officer summoned the escort commander at the first signs of irregular happenings at the Traders’ secret Terran launch facility, Point Obscure.

What do you have? the commander asked.

Sir, the communications officer explained, five centipars past, Point Obscure’s cloaking failed and we can see the illumination of the open launch portal. We have tried to contact them to find out what trouble they are experiencing, but they have not acknowledged our calls.

It is still full dark there. Can the local planet satellites detect them? the commander asked, and stared at the navigational situations officer.

From our data on the planet’s capabilities, the navigation officer replied, the next pass for a data-collection satellite will not be for another par and twelve centipars. The manned space station will not pass over Point Obscure for another three planetary orbits, five pars.

Maybe they can get their condition corrected by then, the wing commander suggested, and turned to his command chair.

As the commander sat down and studied the image on his sensor screen beside his chair, he wondered how the emissary’s mission was progressing. Before the emissary began her descent from their synchronized position in orbit above the planet Terra, she had told him they were there to collect and return to Kyddel with a bride for the prince’s surprise wedding—a woman of special empathic talents, it was rumored—to aid His Majesty in spying on the Galactic Peace Force. He smiled, knowing that if the prince could determine what the Peace Force knew or where they were at a given time, the prince’s transportation of humanoid slaves would become much easier.

But there were also rumors that the Traders were having troubles building and keeping their launch facilities secret and undetected on Terra. Intelligence had noted four changes in Terran launch facilities in the past four Terran years, and Point Obscure was the most recent. Operational for only two hundred turns, it was still experiencing infancy pains.

Commander, the communications officer continued, his voice tense. The emissary’s frigate just alerted us there is a disturbance within Point Obscure and the emissary is moving their launch time up. Estimated in twenty centipars.

Focus the scanners for a visual, overhead view, the wing commander directed. What is the nature of the disturbance?

They were told Point Obscure is experiencing a prisoner break in the detention chambers. A small group of prisoners apparently overpowered their guards and managed to get their weapons. It is an attempted escape. Point Obscure’s chief officer, a Brian Woods, claims they will have order restored quickly, but the emissary feels it is best if they leave earlier than planned.

The wing commander studied the scanner’s image, wishing they could enhance the image more. The local planet-side weather was not helping their surveillance; the scanner’s images were infrared, and the atmosphere made the visual enhancements wavy and unfocused. They could not get a clear view of the facility.

Contact the other three escort cruisers, the wing commander ordered. Tell them to power up and be ready to follow us to an intercept with the emissary’s frigate once it launches.

Yes, sir. The communications officer turned to his console.

Fifteen centipars passed, then communications announced, They are launching. Reporting significant weapons fire exchanged in and around the launch bay and immediately outside the portal. The emissary and the prize are on board.

Calculate their departure path and set up our intercept, the commander said to navigation without turning his head. Contact the fleet we are preparing to move.

They are heading one hundred and ninety degrees south, local global coordinates, the navigation officer announced.

They are slowing, the communications officer muttered in disbelief, then in a normal voice, continued, The crew is saying they are being recalled to the facility and the guidance system is not answering the helm. They are being forced to return.

The commander swiveled his command chair to face the communications station.

Sir—the communications officer looked up from his console and stared at the commander—they have initiated an autodestruct command.

Forty

Sunday, October 23

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I do not know what has happened, Harry, an irritated Judge Bernice Reeds admitted, her fingers rapping on the dining room table in her sprawling mansion in the hills southeast of Grants. She watched the Eastern Rim Mountains brighten in anticipation of the coming dawn through the wide, second-story bay window. I have told you what Brian said as he was leaving Obscure. He felt the complex was severely damaged and they could no longer hold the attackers off.

Yesterday it seemed like everything was proceeding as planned, Elder Malcolm Clotter noted. His frustration reflected the mood of the meeting.

Yes, yesterday! Judge Bernice snapped. Yesterday we had the freighter loaded and ready for departure and we had Prince Kiese’s bride ready for delivery. Then, late evening, Brian called and said Obscure was under attack. He said there was weapons fire in the detention area and the central navigation facility had been destroyed by multiple strong explosions, and launch control was under siege.

That sounds like the work of more than one traitor, Harry speculated. Did Brian say how many were attacking?

No. But however many there were, he or they seemed to know the layout of the complex. He thought Security was destroyed first, greatly reducing Obscure’s ability to defend itself.

What did you say Brian said about the launches? one of the Elders asked.

When he and Kdeen were leaving Obscure by the shuttle to Clay, about two hours after midnight, he said that both launches had failed. I do not know if they were aborted or if the attack disabled them, Bernice explained as she sank back in her chair. When the ground shook and the shuttle tunnel filled with dust and thunder from an explosion, I knew the tunnel had collapsed. Brian and Kdeen did not arrive in Clay.

And without him and the information he was bringing, Elder Malcolm’s brother Charley remarked, we have no idea of the extent of the damage or the outcome of the attack.

Yes! We have to send someone up there to quietly take a look around, Bernice demanded as she stared at the view to the northeast through the window.

In unison, all of the Elders nodded in agreement.

Harry—her head snapped around to look at him—who is available to send?

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DAWN FINALLY BROKE as Galactic Peace Force Lieutenant Cheral Haak stood on the southern lip of Point Obscure’s dark, gaping launch bay portal, more than six hundred feet in diameter and four stories deep. Secreted in the north central portion of the forested Riggs Valley, Point Obscure was the slave traders’ only operational launch facility remaining on Earth, until last night. Cheral stared down at the half-destroyed hulk of the Stellar Merchants’ Guild’s inter-galactic freighter, its dark, golden brown hull nearly hidden in the deep shadows of the open launch bay, its forward section collapsed on the body-strewn floor, a stark reminder of the surprise attack and ensuing battle to capture the facility, only hours finished and, amazingly, won.

Without actually seeing him do it, Cheral recognized the major’s handiwork: complete simplicity, one medium canister—probably a Series Five or Six—precisely placed at the very nerve center of the ship and their escape and communications were strategically blocked. The rest of the freighter remained relatively undamaged and the captives in their sealed envirocubes, unharmed by the explosion.

Concerned that the Traders might drop reinforcements or a counterstrike at any moment, she rechecked the hilt indicator of her father’s old Kaaspr 88 hand laser weapon as she scanned the far side of the open portal and noted Q-Ship Q-KKLC14’s pilot and commander, Major Kooich, and his mate and nav-com, Lieutenant Leeana Kooich, as they slowly searched the wooded areas west of the portal. Dropping the fully discharged `88 back in its pouch on her right hip, she checked the hilt indicator of the current issue Kaaspr 106 that she held ready; ten percent remaining, five shots left before it too was completely discharged.

She glanced at the clearing sky, trying to stay vigilant; enemy fighters might sneak in close and materialize without warning. She quickly chided herself for the thought, since they had KKLC14 watching for any signs of approaching ships, and turned away from the portal. She walked around the lip to the east, surveying the staggering results of their efforts. Bodies of the Traders’ fallen troopers seemed to be everywhere. She forced herself to stay alert, objective, to not focus on how they had died or how many of them there were. She reminded herself that just a few hours earlier, each one of them was trying to kill her and the rest of her major’s squad. She bent down and picked up a stray Greymn hand weapon, obviously dropped and no longer needed by one of the defending troopers in the skirmish. She absently checked its charge state, and with a quarter of its energy remaining, she decided she liked having a backup.

She inhaled deeply and started forward, prodding each body as she came to it, one by one, as she joined the loggers assigned the onerous task of searching for any that might still be alive. At least, she consoled herself, I don’t have to bag them.

Cheral did not count the fallen as she made her way slowly around to the east side of the launch portal and stopped when the number of bodies sharply dwindled. With none in sight further north, she turned and started back, glancing at the bony skeleton of the emissary’s frigate in the clearing south of the open launch portal. Nothing of the ship remained to identify it as a space-going vessel, much less any kind of vessel. It was just the broken ribcage of some huge, dead metallic beast. The wide clearing was the result of its death.

She remembered the fear she felt when Shara had told her that her major and Jill Thomas were on the frigate as it launched. She remembered how, after a tense few moments, that fear had suddenly turned into rejoicing when the frigate was forced to return, and how that was cut short when they realized the crew had initiated an autodestruct command, unwilling to be brought back and held accountable for their slave-trading activities; the frigate had begun to disintegrate before their eyes, and crashed.

She remembered the long, tense minutes after her cousin Shara had disappeared before they could stop her, going into the burning wreckage to find the major and Jill. Then the frigate exploded! Dazed by the blast, fearing the worst, they slowly realized they had escaped with mere seconds to spare, protected under the lip of a rock ledge beneath the ship.

Cheral paused and took a deep breath remembering the roller-coaster moments, distracting herself from the memories by checking the slavers’ fallen troopers farther from the portal. She circled back to the south lip, certain more than a hundred bodies littered the forest floor around the southern quarter of the open portal. All in all, they had all been very lucky. None of their group had died, and only a few were injured.

Once the fighting was over and the efforts begun to release the captives aboard the freighter, the major and Shara held a briefing on the rocks west of the facility and assisted in getting Gary Woods’ wounded loggers and Nick Jordan back to town for necessary medical treatment. Then the major left the site under her control, along with Gary Woods and his loggers to begin cleanup until their own reinforcements arrived.

At the sound of voices coming from the hatchway beside the gaping portal, she looked up. Gary Woods and Jack Thomas climbed the corridor of steps and came out of the open hatchway; she hurried to meet them.

Gary was one of two brothers of Brain Woods, who ran the Woods Lumber and Mill in the town of Riggin. Jack was the mill’s financial officer and Jill’s father. Gary and Jack were both local allies who secretly helped when the major’s undercover investigation turned its focus to the valley. They waved as she neared, and together they turned toward the south, hearing the soft whine of an unseen ship landing—a friendly ship, she reassured herself, since KKLC14 had not sounded an alert—the mechanical sounds of hatches opening and a loading ramp extending. From an area on the west side of the new clearing, men in the unmistakable camouflaged Peace Force Marine uniforms and flop hats seemed to materialize out of thin air as they trotted through the transport’s cloaking veil and into the clearing.

Recognizing Kiile in the lead of his squad of thirty, Cheral felt her heart skip. She smiled and dropped the Kaaspr back into its pouch and the Greymn into a utility pouch on her belt, and remembered the major saying Kiile and his marines would be there in about an hour.

It was nearly a year before when she was shot, when she had almost died, that Kiile began visiting her as often as their mission allowed. Nearly eight months later, Cheral was finally back on her feet and reassigned to the major, once again posted as Q-Ship Q-STSX1’s nav-com officer. Functional but not completely combat ready, she joined the major in his dogged investigation in Riggs Valley, taking a job as a waitress at Hap’s in Riggin, the local college hangout, a month before the fall semester had started.

Cheral patiently stood ‘At Rest’ as the marine squad stopped a man’s length in front of them. Upper Squad Leader Kiile smiled, nodding at Gary, and then saluted her. Cheral returned the salute.

Squad Leader Kiile at your service. Good to see you again, Lieutenant, and to see you’re in good condition—unharmed, that is. The major tells me you may need some help with the...uh, debris—he gestured to the bodies strewn about them—left after this morning’s skirmish.

Good to see you also, Kiile, Cheral greeted, hoping she had not blushed at his comment. We certainly could’ve used your help last night.

We came as quickly as we could, Kiile explained. But the major did not alert me until the fighting was already finished.

Gary looked puzzled. The major? Then he remembered Jack’s introductions. Ah, yes, the major. He did indeed say you were coming to give us some assistance. Gary smiled and extended his hand in greeting. Good to have you here, Kiile.

Kiile returned the gesture, greeting Jack similarly, and then turned to better assess the number of bodies.

Looks like you had your hands full. Kiile smiled at Cheral as he turned, placing her on his left. He motioned to the marine nearest and