Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE Hawke's Landing

  CHAPTER TWO Caged

  CHAPTER THREE Soaring

  CHAPTER FOUR One Piece of Steel

  CHAPTER FIVE Collateral Damage

  CHAPTER SIX Tales to Tell

  CHAPTER SEVEN Tainted

  CHAPTER EIGHT Rundown

  CHAPTER NINE Conflux of Interests

  CHAPTER TEN A Volatile Package

  CHAPTER ELEVEN Defusing

  CHAPTER TWELVE Silicon, Mistakes, and Departures

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN Recovery Effort

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN Sudden Movement

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN Loud Sounds

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN Direct Contact

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Blood From a Stone

  Epilogue: Illumination

  More from Darksbane Books

  Before You Go

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Destiny Abounds

  Book 1 of the Starlight Saga

  By Annathesa Nikola Darksbane

  & Shei Darksbane

  Copyright © 2015 by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  First Printing, September 10, 2015

  Darksbane Books

  247 Macedonia Loop

  Jasper, AL 35503-5959

  DarksbaneBooks.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people and events are coincidence.

  For my loving wife, with whom these tales were first woven and without whom these dreams never would have manifested.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Hawke's Landing

  The steady click of Branwen's plated war-boots followed her down the star dock, wind born from the adjoining desert caressing her face with its warm, abrasive fingers. She wasn't pacing, not really. However, she had paced the length of the maintenance and refueling area enough times by now for her instincts to have committed all the ways in and out of the area to memory, just in case. Some days, like today, that instinct felt nearly as old as she was, almost as if she’d been born with it. But those thoughts were just bits and pieces of weariness speaking out of turn.

  The typical sounds had blended into the background, finally; the howl of sand-bearing wind, the ceaseless murmur of mixed crowds, metal on metal and the rumbling burn of ship engines all fading away into a subtle cacophony of ambient noise. It always took days after coming to a new area for her unease to subside, but it was still leagues better than when she’d first come to space: those weeks of helpless discomfort and yes, even a little fear, born of unfamiliarity, superstition, and many long years of distrust.

  It was certainly better now than it used to be, anyway. Honestly, part of her still wondered if it would be better if she'd never left her homeworld, Fade, but now she had the dependence of her crew weighing on her shoulders, yet another old instinct driving her ever forward.

  A loud, sudden sound cut across the star dock, the searing screech of a metal hull ripping apart. Branwen's muscles tensed as her eyes instinctively sought the source of the “scream.” At least this time, she managed to keep herself from reaching for the familiar sword on her belt, or for one of the solid steel throwing axes strapped to the small of her back under her coat.

  Across the way, the curtain of heavy pedestrian traffic parted long enough for her to glimpse two technicians, locked in an argument over some sort of fire-spitting device as it cut into the wing of a sky-ship at rest, and she relaxed. The incident temporarily separated her thoughts from the need for further crew to man her as-of-yet-nameless starship, though those thoughts were soon to return, as was her “pacing,” strides lengthening again as she approached the Altairan Personal Transit Gate.

  Branwen accepted and ignored the number of odd or curious looks she received as she passed through the crowd, increasing in frequency as she grew nearer the raised Gate area and the city’s functional steel and stone structures shifted into pristine, refined Altairan architecture. It wasn't hard for her to stand out, after all; she had an inch of height on the average native Koltani males, and nearly three on the average Altairan. Not to mention her manner of dress: Koltani-style long coat over the earthy tones of her simply designed, yet durable, Fade attire, which most would consider unconventional at best. At least she had finally broken free of the habit of wearing her armored mail over most of it.

  Of course, no amount of pacing and pondering would matter if she couldn't find a pilot actually capable of getting their “star-ship” off of the ground, out of the docks, and into —no, past —the sky.

  Pausing briefly, she stepped to the side to allow the bulk of the swelling crowd to pass her by. Crossing her arms and leaning momentarily against a neat stack of thick wooden cargo crates, Branwen’s eyes traveled back and up the length of Koltan’s main port city as she reflected. The city was built onto the side of a mountain, climbing slowly down in an increasing sprawl until it hit nearly the bottom. The star docks spread out from that base like the splayed fingers of a giant’s armored glove, massive branching metal strips towering several dozen feet over the dry, dusty basin, providing homes to a multitude of resting vessels.

  She turned to thoughtfully lean over the nearby railing of the long platform, looking out at the wind-blown expanse of one of Koltan's myriad deserts, as if the hot, arid wind would bring with it new ideas. And perhaps, in a way, it did, as she looked up to the sound of raised voices nearby, and spotted the small woman who would change the direction of her life forever.

  1.1 - Merlo

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Merlo yelled in frustration at the guards—useless, stupid guards. They were too big to be worth anything in a fight, and those so-called “guns” they were carrying were so archaic, they looked like they belonged in a historical application. Why would they refuse to simply let her go back through the Altairan Gate to where she was “supposed to be?” After all, it wasn’t her fault she didn’t have credentials or identification. She was still waiting for the stupid Altairans to sort that out. And it wasn’t her fault she didn’t have currency to pay for using the stupid Gate, either. She was still waiting for, you guessed it, the Altairans to sort that out as well!

  Merlo felt like she had been tricked into coming here in the first place, with those stupid job advertisements, and none of this would have happened at all if the stupid, stupid Altairans hadn’t blown her ship into so much useless debris. How was she, an outsider, supposed to know the planet she was approaching was some kind of enormous prison-world that no one was allowed to get near without clearance? It all came down to these stupid Altairans, their stupid laws, their stupid rules and protocols, and their stupid, stupid, Gates.

  Anyway, these Koltani guards weren’t budging, and she was just about ready and willing to make them move instead. She didn’t imagine those weapons would touch her, not through her suit, and there was no way those two were any match for her physically. They were so tall and bulky… were all the people here so weak? She had barely seen a handful since her arrival who looked like they were actually in shape. The Altairans came closer with their shorter height and more slender frames, though their arms lacked the finely corded quality that a properly trained Arlesian’s limbs would carry. This cluster really was
upside-down. It was a wonder they even spoke the same language.

  Not that it was doing her much good. “Last chance, Primitives. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” Her muscles tensed slightly, ready—perhaps eager—for a fight, if it came to it. She could see the guard’s hand easing toward his useless, primitive weapon, but she was happy to do this the hard way. If it was a fight they wanted, they were in for a really bad time.

  1.2 - Branwen

  Branwen felt her curiosity piqued. Typically, one did not see someone arguing with the starport’s authorities. Arguing with Altairans tended to get you nowhere, while arguing with Koltani natives might just get you shot, though admittedly it was it was more likely to simply get you arrested this close to the Altairan Gates and “civilization.” Which, as a matter of fact, seemed to be the direction the altercation in question seemed to be going.

  Branwen's experience allowed her to read a lot from the Koltani officer's body language, such as his nervousness and unease at the small woman's verbal fervor. Branwen flicked a strand of golden blond hair away from her face, from where it had no doubt wandered free from one of her several braids. She could see the way this situation was going to go, as the officer's hand began to inch toward his credentials, or possibly his gun, or maybe his restraints.

  From the way she saw the compact, silvery-haired girl reacting, there would be no way she'd be understanding; the situation would escalate, and someone would get hurt. Ultimately, though, none of this was Branwen's business, which is why she sighed at her own predictability as she walked right into the middle of it.

  The Koltani guardsman was slowly leaning back on his heels, partially due to the invasion of his personal space by the forceful-if-small young woman, and partially by the sheer volume of vitriol she was currently spewing. Branwen didn't even know what half of those words meant, and by the slight confusion on the man's face as he scratched at his chin, perhaps he didn't either. Her anger was clear enough, though.

  Branwen noticed another, older, officer, dressed in the same typical uniform of well-worn leathers and durable sandy brown trench coat, complete with an officer's shining, star-shaped insignia on the front. He was clutching the wooden stock of his rifle as he eyed the situation, no doubt preparing to step in. Probably with a rifle butt to the young woman’s face. As he stepped forward from the small but growing ring of bystanders, so too did Branwen, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “Stand down, soldier.” It likely wasn't quite the appropriate thing to say, but it was close enough for the moment. As long as she could resolve this before they started looking her over for credentials, at least; her military distinctions were both years ago and very far away. He relaxed and didn’t immediately try to stop her as she brushed past him. Perhaps he was just happy to let someone take the problem off his hands. Good enough. “What seems to be the problem here?” Branwen raised her voice with an authoritative tone, the very same she’d used for years upon years on her homeworld.

  The concerned-looking guard in question visibly relaxed at the commanding inflection in her voice, taking the opportunity to step back from his barely five foot tall aggressor. Looking her over briefly, Branwen doubted the girl had hit her twentieth winter yet, though it was still hard for her to tell sometimes with sky-people. She couldn’t tell if the girl was from Altair, Elysian, or perhaps some other planet in one of the clusters. She assumed Elysian from the distinctly strange hair, but one could never be sure.

  Branwen had never heard of Elysians being particularly violent-tempered, but she still lacked a lot of space-related knowledge and expertise, after all. The Koltani officer nodded to her appreciatively and opened his mouth to speak, but as Branwen expected, the fiery young woman dove right into the silence instead, though she managed to conceal the slight smile that crept in alongside her amusement.

  “The problem,” the girl began fiercely, lifting her hand to jab an accusatory finger at the pair of guards, “is that these slack-jawed Primitives won’t let me go back through this stupid Gate to where I belong.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but like we said—” to his credit, Branwen felt the officer was still being more polite than could reasonably be expected.

  “I know you said I can’t go back, but it doesn’t make any sense! Like I told you, I didn’t mean to come to this stupid dusty rock in the first place. Some asshole tricked me into coming over here and I didn’t even know you had to have all that crap to use the Gates!” She paused for a seemingly overdue breath. “Look, all I want is to go back through your stupid Gate to the place I was five minutes ago, and finish the stupid Altairan processing or whatever!”

  The young man swallowed, but Branwen saw his eyes seem to steel a bit with resolve as he again rubbed at some of the bare stubble on his face. “And beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but we just can’t let you do that. No official I.D, no passage. We’ve got orders, y’know.” The woman’s face somehow managed to redden further, and Branwen decided that now was the time to take further steps toward resolution, instead of the situation’s current pathway toward disaster.

  “Give me a moment with her, please; I will see if I can resolve the issue.” Branwen's statement carried the tone of an order more than a request, really; while she had no real, legal authority over this man, soldiers the world over—any world over—were pretty much the same, Branwen had found. Neither he nor his older partner protested as she put a hand on the shoulder of the girl's one-piece, dark, military-style bodysuit and led her a few steps away. The senior of the two looked speculatively at Branwen, but to her eyes both of them just seemed relieved to see someone take this spitfire problem off of their hands.

  The girl let Branwen pull her aside, with “let” being the imperative word, as she seemed rather surprisingly solid and strong despite lacking in size. The taller woman kept her grip gentle, guiding rather than pushing, and looked down at the young woman’s unusual, silvery eyes as soon as they had stepped far enough aside for relative privacy.

  “Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” Branwen began. “If nothing else, at least I am not about to shoot you.” She looked over her shoulder towards the guardsmen, who had backed off toward their posts at the shimmering, ten foot archway that led to a visible Altair on the other side: the Altairan port city reflected therein dwarfing the Koltani side in scale, aesthetics, and technology.

  She likewise noted that the previous two guardsmen had since been joined by a third, presumably higher ranking officer, as indicated by the more elaborate, star-shaped badge easily visible on his casually-draped dark scarf. Branwen gave the three men a respectful nod since they were still looking in her direction and conversing amongst themselves and received two out of three nods in return. Not bad, she supposed.

  “Yeah, I’d like to see them try.” The short girl huffed dismissively, tossing her head to remove some of her soft, silvery-blue hair from her face. One could still see the proverbial fire in the sterling sheen of her eyes as she glanced in the direction her much taller companion was looking, though she obviously hadn’t a chance of actually seeing them over the viscous crowd, moving thickly and slowly in between them and the raised Gate platform.

  Branwen smiled softly. For some reason, she found she took an instant liking to the girl, perhaps because she reminded her of some of her own family, bittersweet though that memory could be. “Yes, well, I am rather sure from the way you carry yourself that two would not be much of a problem, or three, or maybe even ten; but if you got on the wrong side of the law here, they would just keep sending more until they managed to arrest you.” She looked back down, hoping and figuring that being friendly and accepting would help calm the girl down. It wasn’t like Branwen had never encountered problems with an authority figure, after all. “If you would, relate your issue to me. I am not not in charge here, but perhaps I can assist, nonetheless.”

  The young woman sighed and rested a hand on her hip, glancing around for a moment while she appeared to collect her thoughts. She gestured toward a
couple of chairs tucked neatly in between the stacks of cargo crates nearby, and asked, “Hey, you think those funny fox-men would mind if we sat here for a minute?” Branwen nodded for her to lead the way, as she figured the generally good-natured Kepo wouldn't mind, especially as they weren’t even around just then. The girl deciding to sit and take a moment was a good sign; likely, the rest would help her quench her anger a bit. Besides, she seemed as though she needed to catch her breath and rearrange her thoughts.

  “Yeah, right now I’ll take just about any real help I can get,” the girl grumbled with a strong air of irritation, again glancing over her shoulder once again toward the Altairan Gate. Despite her small build, the simple hardwood frame of the girl’s chosen chair creaked ominously as she eased herself carefully into it, as if she were actually far too heavy for it to comfortably support. Branwen wondered briefly if its wooden resolve might fail, but it seemed to persevere once its occupant had settled. She fixed her eyes on the girl’s youthful face, watching and trying to guess her story and her honesty from the expressions she displayed, as Branwen waited, patient, composed, and somewhat amused, for the rest of her tale.

  “I was waiting on the other side,” she gestured vaguely in the direction of the Gate, “and I found a posting where someone said he was hiring on a pilot for his ship on this side of that instant travel Gate thing they’ve got on Altair. Obviously,” she gestured down at herself, “I went after him to get the job, but when I got here, he’d already hired someone else and taken off. I was annoyed, but whatever, you know? I started to go back through, and those idiots at the Gate wouldn’t let me.”

  Branwen furrowed her brow. “That… is an odd thing indeed,” she said, considering the other woman. There was more to the story, of course, but she felt that it wasn’t really the best time or place to pry. It was her tale to tell, at any rate. The lack of detail given, however, diminished neither Branwen’s desire to help, nor her interest in the opportunity that presented itself. “Why do you need a job so badly? You said you are a pilot? I am looking to hire a pilot, myself.”