Star Brigade: Maelstrom (Star Brigade Book 2)

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Stand: a Short Story

  Preview of Star Brigade: The Supremacy

  About the Author

  Books by C.C. Ekeke

  A Note from the Author

  C. C. EKEKE

  Copyright 2016 by C. C. Ekeke

  First published, 2005, as Star Brigade: First Renaissance, Revised, 2016 as Star Brigade: Maelstrom

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  STAR BRIGADE: Maelstrom is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  “Stand” copyright @ 2014 by C.C. Ekeke

  STAR BRIGADE, characters, names and related indicia are registered trademarks of C.C. Ekeke.

  Copyright © 2016 by C. C. Ekeke

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles.

  ISBN-10: 0-9899119-4-2

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9899119-4-8

  Website: http://ccekeke.com

  Cover design: Milan Jaram

  For Dr. Philip Rhyne

  Thank you for looking past the book cover,

  and being one of my biggest supporters.

  1.

  Tonight Tharydane was debuting a new dance. So of course, she needed a different style. The Korvenite’s flowing violet curls were tied back in several thick braids, ending with a stylish knob atop her head. The midriff-baring dress she wore this evening had a gold and spidery design, clinging to the slim curves of her chalky-skinned figure, and cost most of her weekly allowance.

  A firestorm of emotions from her rabid audience scorched through Tharydane now. Normally she skillfully swept back and forth across the small stage amid raucous shrieks from horny sentient males. And the teenage Korvenite would be so caught up in the thaoque dance that nothing could touch her. Not tonight.

  BOOM! The bass was a thunderclap to her ears. Now at its midpoint, the thaoque song thundered on. Its soft strings spoke fiercely of the dolorous plight that the Korvenite species still faced. Fear. Pain. Loss. Hate. Sorrow. Death. These sensations, signature to the Korvenite experience, weaved in and out of this passionate musical tapestry.

  Tharydane shook her hips sensually from side to side while shuffling backward. Her feet toe-and-heel clicked rhythmically to the gloomier beat. The audience roared unanimously in approval. The song could’ve been about green snow and they wouldn’t have cared. All they wanted was to see Tharydane dance! “Harr, Harr, give me some of that frail!” a drunk Tarkathian barked out in his native guttural dialect.

  The Korvenite ignored that and other catcalls, as always, too focused on the dance and her own thoughts to notice. The nightmarish visions plaguing Tharydane for over a month had finally stopped. But this past week something worse had replaced them. Maelstrom, some false Korvenite messiah, had ruined her one place of solace; Ymedes Slave Quarters. All its occupants, Korvenites she had considered family, had been rescued from enslavement. That should have pleased Tharydane. That should have meant her fellow Korvenites would now be free like her, no longer restricted from using the natural telepathic gifts from the all-seeing Korvan. Except now they had traded many cruel masters for an insane and murderous one, she knew. Every Korvenite from the Ymedes Quarters had undoubtedly become Maelstrom’s steadfast minion. She dreaded to think what occurred after she had barely escaped with her life.

  Or worse—was Maelstrom still on Bimnorii? The angst made her eyes, golden irises on black sclera, widened as she glided and sashayed across the stage to match the rising tempo.

  No one at Hugrask’s Hostellaris knew what had happened at Ymedes, nor had Tharydane told them. Then she, a Korvenite, would surely be forced to explain the evil Maelstrom had infused into her life, and how defiance had cost the girl any connection to her species. That night after returning from Ymedes, Tharydane had taken five long showers, despite the waste of water. Still, she felt soiled inside and out from Maelstrom’s psychic touch.

  And of course that poor P’aluash operative from the Galactic Union, a shapeshifter who had tried and failed to infiltrate Maelstrom’s operations. Whenever Tharydane closed her eyes, the memory of his head bursting into sprays of skull and pink blood kept playing through her thoughts like an auto-repeating video.

  Tharydane slowed her dance movements, letting the song’s rhythm lead her. In mesmerizing fashion she writhed her arms, teasing the crowd, driving them into a fever pitch. The yells grew louder, more primal. A rabid air overrode their emotions, roiling around the Korvenite like a cyclone.

  The music tempo intensified. She began spinning round and round, all while telepathically bouncing the crowd’s passion back at them.

  She stopped in mid-spin. At the same time as the thaoque melody plowed toward an aggressive climax, swelling with pain, dominated by loss, vowing vengeance—leaving the harmonious inflections of fear and death far behind. Tharydane matched the speed of the rhythm. Her hips, the toe-heel clicks of her feet moved faster. Faster! Far too fast for a normal being!

  Already riled up, the crowd noise swelled to beyond thunderous. And in a crashing bong, the song finished. So did Tharydane, who struck a pose with her head held high and one arm in the air.

  Immediately the audience erupted in appreciation, standing and cheering amid rowdy sprays of liquor. She silently held that pose for half-a-macrom longer, a sharp contrast to the boisterous hostellaris patrons applauding her. One quick bow later and the Korvenite dashed behind the safety of the stage curtains. Tharydane darted through the narrow corridor backstage, far away from the explosion of sound and thoughts. She couldn’t handle it, not tonight. In her present state of mind, just getting through that show was like walking barefoot across a Bimnorii desert during the scalding midday heat.

  Distance and walls soon muffled the audience noise. Finally reaching her dinky backstage changing room, Tharydane pulled off the top of her outfit which now stuck to her sweat-drenched white skin. When Tharydane doused herself fresh in the hydrobathe area, she still didn’t feel clean on the inside.

  She dried off, threw on a grey tank top and some baggy pants. Tharydane then leaned against a corroded wall and slid to a seated position. It didn’t stop, recalling her Korvenite friends fa
lling under Maelstrom’s sway, him nearly corrupting her, him telekinetically exploding that P’aluash’s head like melon fruit. It was all Tharydane could think about.

  She wiped away the remaining moisture on her face and began unbraiding her hair. Staring at the blotchy rust that saturated the ground, Tharydane inevitably zoned out. And for the first time in days, she finally stopped thinking about Ymedes. The Korvenite stopped thinking about everything, losing herself in the mindless task of undoing her braids.

  The solitude was short-lived. Tharydane heard the hasty clomp of footsteps and a mechanical whir coming from outside. Moments later the door slid open, giving way to two totally differing figures. Suddenly, Tharydane was hauled to her feet and wrapped in a fierce hug from Hugrask. She felt her ribs creak under the Mulkeavian’s enthusiasm, always boisterous in its rare displays.

  “Tharydane!” he howled. “That was amazing young’n! Easily one of your best performances.” He finally drew back and held her firmly by the shoulders, squeezing so tight Tharydane knew it would leave marks. Hugrask, like all Mulkeavians, had rubbery shit-brown colored skin and no legs. But unlike many in his race, he never used his beefy arms to walk. Due to extreme laziness, Hugrask sat on a hoverpad to float around and support his increasing girth. As he looked her up and down, Tharydane couldn’t find Hugrask’s face under all its crinkles of joyous pride.

  “Uh—thanks,” she winced, relieved Hugrask had let her go. “I wanted to make up for missed performances.” At Hugrask’s side was the Nnaxan Dothan, one of the hostellaris’s many employees.

  “That you did,” Dothan patted her shoulders with his two left hands. His three craniowhisks were wriggling happily. “Was that a new dance you learned from the Korvenites in Ymedes?”

  Ymedes. Tharydane stiffened. “Yeah, something like that,” she murmured, her stomach in knots. Someone had to know. “Uh, Hugrask. Can we talk…alone?” She resumed unbraiding her hair and stared pointedly at Dothan.

  “Of course, young’n.” Hugrask’s face took on its usual gruffness as he too glared at the Nnaxan.

  “Oh.” Dothan finally took the hint and left the room.

  Once the door hiss closed, Hugrask wheeled around on his ward. “Have at it, Tharyn.”

  “Well—.” For a moment, Tharydane reconsidered confessing. Then she started talking, and couldn’t stop. The Korvenite told Hugrask everything about her last trip to Ymedes, from the freed Korvenites to the Unilink, then about Maelstrom and his terrifying power. “I got out of there as fast as I could. I was afraid he’d kill me too. But I’m not sure what they did to Ymedes.” Tharydane let out a tired sigh, shaking her flowing violet mane free of any kinks.

  The whole time Hugrask silently watched her with his beetle-black eyes. When she finally stopped for breath, he quietly asked, “You tell anyone else?”

  Tharydane shook her head furiously. “Probably the best thing.” Hugrask floated back and forth on his hoverpad, like one pacing. “That explains why so few traders have come from Ymedes lately.”

  “But Hugrask,” Tharydane pleaded, “what if something happened and sentients think I did it?”

  The Mulkeavian floated ahead and gripped her shoulders again. “Don’t fret about it, young’n.”

  “But if they think I did something,” she cut in. “You might get in trouble—!”

  “Easy, Tharydane. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. That Malicious Storm or whatever his name is won’t hurt you.” One look at the Mulkeavian and Tharydane felt her anxiety lessen.

  “But just in case, lay low for a couple days,” Hugrask suggested. “I’ll have some pals from Ymedes find out what went down.”

  As he spoke, Tharydane noticed how quiet the hostellaris was. Usually the background clamor was deafening. “You hear that Hugrask?”

  “What?” he growled, spinning around on his hoverpad suspiciously.

  “Exactly,” she shivered. Something was definitely wrong out there. Tharydane stretched her mind forward to sense what was going on. She caught the stray thoughts of a Voton regular—.

  He’s going to kill me! Tharydane jerked back, physically and mentally. The Voton’s terror was like something she rarely felt on Bimnorii, ice-cold. No, it couldn’t be Maelstrom, not here.

  “Hugrask!” Dothan’s voice hissed on the backstage comm system, startling both Tharydane and Hugrask. The fear in the Nnaxan’s tone mirrored the Voton patron’s. But Tharydane was more drawn to a single cavernous voice dominating the background. The tongue that voice spoke was unmistakable.

  “Maruduutch,” Tharydane murmured.

  Hugrask nodded absently. “Dothan, what is that Maruduuk doing in my hostellaris?” he snarled.

  “Not just any Maruduuk! It’s Gijjir Nhul, from Ymedes! He’s looking for Tharydane and he wants—oh no—URK!”

  Replacing Dothan’s voice was a sharp, persistent clacking noise. “[Nnaxan],” Gijjir rumbled into the comm system, overshadowing Dothan’s choked gurgles. “[Where is your Korvenite?]”

  The comm abruptly cut out, leaving both Tharydane and Hugrask in stunned silence.

  “W—what could Gijjir Nhul want with me?” Tharydane inquired, finally finding her voice again.

  Hugrask floated back and forth, rubbing his plump jowls thoughtfully. “Something bad must’ve happened in Ymedes. Maruduuks usually send assassins or bounty hunters if it isn’t too serious.” And if half the stories she’d heard about Gijjir Nhul were true, there would be a body count before this ended.

  “I have to go out there,” Tharydane was already scampering toward the corridor leading to the stage. “None of you should die because of me—.”

  “YOU—STAY—HERE!” Hugrask yanked her back roughly by the tank top straps. “That shellhead sandsniffer will KILL YOU once you get out there!”

  Tharydane stared at him, feeling the blood drain from her face. Never had she ever heard Hugrask regard anything other than his hostellaris or hovercar so passionately.

  “Fekt, I’d tell you to run for it on the aaln. But Gijjir might have some cronies in the back.”

  As the pale halolights illuminated his gruff crinkly face and tree trunk arms, Hugrask’s escalating worry was palpable. “I didn’t keep you around for eight years just to see you get yourself killed!

  “Now stay and watch from the vidstation,” Hugrask pointed a beefy arm at the rusted monitor jutting from the corridor wall, his eyes never leaving Tharydane. “DON’T move unless things get too dangerous.”

  Tharydane could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something.

  “Oh stop the waterworks young’n, this’ll blow over soon.” The Mulkeavian gave her a hard love pat on the face. “Now stay put.” He floated down the long corridor toward the stage. A brief flutter of light signaled his moving through the curtains. Then Hugrask vanished.

  Tharydane wasted no time darting to the rusted vidstation along the corridor walls. With the press of a button she could see a topside view of the hostellaris’ main bar area, which had emptied out. And Tharydane could clearly see why.

  Compared to many Maruduuk she had seen in the past, this one was especially enormous. Over two metrids in height and completely hairless, Gijjir Nhul was covered in an oily, fuscous exoskeleton. His rather massive body moved about on four insectoid-like legs jutting out of his thick base. Gijjir’s head was horse-shaped and wrinkly, like a newborn’s, housing two bulging opal eyes. His long, permanently puckered maw might’ve made Tharydane laugh—on a less menacing species. The teeth inside of Gijjir’s mouth were jagged and broken, positioned in a circular pattern. His arms seemed peculiarly long and skinny compared to the rest of his bloated body, specifically that apron of a belly.

  What made Tharydane shudder were Gijjir’s large crusher claws, a Maruduuk’s equivalent to hands. Each claw was as long as Tharydane’s arm, a combination of three hooked phalanges with the middle being the largest and sharpest. His body’s oily sheen glistened as he clacked both claws in chorus.
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  Thankfully Gijjir let go of Dothan, who lay at his feet gasping for air. She could see Vinda and the others huddled together near the bar, terrified. Flanking the Maruduuk were at least seven thickset guards, some human and Tarkathian, others were some races Tharydane didn’t recognize.

  “[Ah, Gijjir,]” Hugrask floated on to the screen from the stage, arms spread out disarmingly. He was now speaking Maruduutch to Gijjir. “[Why’d you have to scare away my customers?]” Dothan used this distraction to scramble toward the gaggle of Hugrask’s staff near the bar.

  “[Hugrask!]” Gijjir roared, skittering forth on insectoid legs. “[Where is your Korvenite slave?]”

  “[Tharydane’s not my slave,]” Hugrask retorted with clear anger. “[And she isn’t here right now.]”

  “[LIAR!!]” With a savage swipe of his claw The Maruduuk knocked a table over, sending it spinning. From her backstage perch, Tharydane jumped. “[I heard the cheering. She just performed! Where is she?]”

  “I’ll tell ya nothing until you explain why you burst into my hostellaris!” Hugrask retorted in Standard Speech, floating up and forward fearlessly.

  At first, Gijjir’s opal eyes bugged out even more. Insolence wasn’t something the Maruduuk was used to. But he relaxed. “[Foolishly brave you are, Hugrask. In case this is news to you, every single Korvenite slave in Ymedes escaped. But not before they slew their former owners. My workers!]”

  Vinda, Dothan and the others stared at each other, hearing this for the first time. Without stretching her mind out too much, Tharydane already sensed their fear and doubt shifting from the Maruduuk to her.

  Hugrask shrugged, unfazed. “Unless they’re late with liquor shipments, what happens in Ymedes isn’t my concern.” He started slowly floating backward to his bar. “Besides, what does my Tharydane have to do with the disappearance of your slaves?”

  “[I know she visits the Korvenite slave quarters regularly and that she has no restraining bolt to dampen her powers. She obviously freed the slaves and led them on their killing spree!]”