Axira Episode One

All characters in this publication are fictitious, any
resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.

A Galactic Coalition Academy Series

Axira

Episode One

Copyright © 2015 Odette C Bell

Smashwords Edition

Cover art stock photos: Portrait of a beautiful woman in
paranja © doodko, Earth in a meteor shower © JohanSwanepoel, and
Space background © aviany. Licensed through
Depositphotos.

For free fiction and details of
current and upcoming titles, please visit

www.odettecbell.com

AXIRA

EPISODE ONE

Prologue

I sat on the transport, staring at the wall. My charge was
next to me. I paid as little attention to him as I could
manage.

I just wanted this mission to be over. But then, as soon as
it was, there would be a new one. For the past 450 years of my
internment, I had not rested, I had not slept, I had simply done
the bidding of my master.

“
These fools won't know what hit them,” my charge growled from
my side.

I did not reply. Even if I had wanted to, I could not. The
two pock-marked bracelets over my wrists would not let
me.

They locked me in. Though they were not attached to shackles,
they fed straight into my body and mind. They translated the orders
of my master straight to my brain. I did as he bid, and only as he
bid.

I was a spacer.

One of the strongest. The jewel in my master’s crown. Along
with my sisters and brothers we had assured him dominance over his
section of space for centuries.

“
I cannot wait to see their faces puff up like jelly in the
depths of space. We will push them out the airlocks,” my charge
continued.

He was a repulsive character. From his figure to his voice,
if I could have, I would have recoiled. Instead I sat there, close
to his side, eyes staring ahead, hands rested on my
thighs.

Soon it would begin. My master had sent me here to ensure my
charge’s safety, to ensure his mission ran according to
plan.

The plan and the mission were as nasty as my charge. He would
take over this transport, kill the crew and passengers, and take
their cargo as his own.

Soon it would begin. I felt nothing but disgust. It was
strange I could still conjure the emotion; for centuries I had
completed missions like this and worse. Yet still there flickered a
sense of disgust at the things my hands did without my
permission.

One day I would break free, I promised myself. I had been
promising this same thing for centuries.

One day I would find the key to break the shackles that kept
me aligned to my master.

One day.

...

At approximately 07:34, the attack began. My charge and his
mercenaries produced their pulse weapons, and with gleeful
expressions, overran the crew.

I sat there.

I stared at the wall.

At one point a member of the crew rushed up to me, mistakenly
believing I was immobilized from fear, that I was one of the
passengers and worthy of protection.

He placed his hand on my shoulder, his face, plastered with
sweat and contorted in terror, coming close to my own. “Get out of
here, get to the escape pods. I’ll keep them
distracted.”

My arm moved up. Faster than the crewman would have been
capable of seeing.

My hand latched around his throat.

I was still looking at the wall.

I threw him effortlessly against it.

There was a thud and a snap. He lay still.

I stood.

I could not rush to his side to see if I had killed him; the
bracelets locked out all control of my body. All I could do was
watch the blood slowly trickle down from his nose.

From that point on, I did as my master dictated. Activating a
subspace pocket, I pulled out my energy blade. The pocket opened up
before me like a black hole. I alone could push my hand inside to
retrieve my weapon. The subspace distortions would have ripped
apart a human or any other soft-fleshed alien race.

Walking forward, wielding my blade, I helped my charge
overcome the transport. Though the crew had fought valiantly up to
that point, managing to pin the mercenaries in the engine room,
their fight was over as soon as I arrived.

There was nothing they could do. There was nothing I could do
either.

I watched as I decimated them.

Then I walked calmly through the destruction to the bridge of
the ship.

There I found my charge pawing over a control
panel.

I stood by his side, leaning on my weapon, which was as tall
as I was with a glaive-like blade at the end. It crackled and
charged with energy that rippled down my arm, seeping into my skin
with nothing but a tingle.

Below me it singed the hull.

“
They’ve put out a distress call,” my charge snapped. He was
from a race of boar-like creatures. Two prominent, pointed tusks
stuck out from his mouth, always dripping with saliva as his long
tongue flicked over them. Compound, yellow eyes blinked out at the
world, and a shaggy mass of black, dirt-flecked hair fell from his
shoulders.

“
Commander,” one of the mercenaries looked up, unmistakable
worry creasing his brow, “A ship is responding. It is already in
the system. It will be here in minutes. We should accelerate to
light speed.”

My charge, the commander of this unit, laughed. Slobber
spluttered out of his mouth and landed on the panel he still leant
over. “Let them come.” He turned to me, his eyes
glinting.

I still stood exactly where I had come to rest moments
before. My blade still crackled in my hand. I still stared at the
wall.

There I would remain until my master told me
otherwise.

“
Let them come,” my charge roared louder, his voice shaking
through the small bridge room.

His call was picked up by the other mercenaries, and they all
smashed their hands down onto the panels and railings before them,
stamping their feet, roaring, and preparing for battle.

But the battle would not be theirs, only the victory would
be. The fighting would be all mine.

I could not shift my gaze. I could not turn to face the main
computer screen. I could not find out what ship was coming to the
transport’s aid. I would not know until it arrived. I would not
know until I saw their faces. Seconds later, I would claim victory
over them.

I had no choice.

As the time to their arrival neared, my charge snapped up
from his chair. He had lodged himself in the central command seat,
but his bilious form was too large for the arm rests. As he jumped
up, he ripped off one of them and it struck my leg, resting against
my foot.

I felt it though I could not see it; I could not look
down.

They all rushed past me.

“
Where are the passengers and the rest of the crew?” My charge
roared, licking his tusks as he headed for the air lift that would
take him from the bridge to the rest of the ship in
seconds.

“
In the hangar bay.”

“
Be ready to open it once they arrive.”

With that, they left the room.

They knew better than to turn to me and order me to follow
them; I did not work for them.

My master had loaned me to their mission for one reason: to
curry their favor. And if their favor was not to be had, I would
receive orders to turn on them.

A favor from my master was a dangerous thing.

If their actions did not please him in the future, my sisters
and brothers would be sent after these mercenaries. No matter where
they escaped to in this galaxy, my sisters and brothers would hunt
them down.

I stood there, staring at the same section of wall I could
not turn from without a direct order.

As I did, the onboard computer beeped in warning. “Ship
approaching, speed one quarter light speed. Estimated arrival 23
seconds. They are establishing communication. Re-routing
now.”

I saw the reflected light of the main computer screen change
color. No doubt it had just flickered on to show the ship that was
soon to come to this transport’s aid.

“
This is the Coalition Ship Zeus. We have received your
distress call. We have scanned your vessel. We are picking up 8
Barbarian Mercenaries and 1 unknown life form. Please
respond.”

No one would respond.

“
If you do not respond, we will have to board your
vessel.”

I stood there and stared at the wall.

“
This is Coalition space. Under the Pax Accords, all
transports travelling through this area are—”

I reached out. I brought my blade down into the panel closest
to me. It cut through it with ease.

My master did not wish to hear the rest.

Sparks erupted from the panel, flames licking up and tracking
over the broken glass and metal.

I turned.

I walked towards the air lift.

I tried to close off my mind. Withdraw. I did not want to
witness what I would do next. But I could not close my eyes, and
there was nowhere to run to.

I was a prisoner in my own mind.

The ship shook as I exited the air lift.

I knew that the Zeus must have latched onto the transport
with its docking clamps.

Soon its security officers and troops would board.

I felt the subtle vibrations in the hull under my feet. They
had boarded two floors up.

I did not rush. I kept the same steady pace, my unblinking
eyes staring ahead as I held my blade by my side.

I passed injured passengers and crew.

I passed the destruction the mercenaries had brought upon the
transport. Panels had been ripped from the walls, conduits had been
pulled from the floor, like guts from an animal.

Everything was charred, seared with black streaks from the
blasts of pulse weapons. The acrid smell of burnt flesh and metal
filled my nostrils. I could not have coughed against it even if I
had wanted to.

I heard my footsteps, gentle and rhythmic, as they echoed
through the broken corridor.

The ship gave another shake. I did not lose my balance even
though a section of bulkhead nearest to me groaned and fell away
from the wall, smashing through the floor, exposing a set of
sparking circuits that crackled and danced.

I walked right over them.

They could not damage me. Their excess energy merely
translated up my legs, through my body, and into my
blade.

When I reached the end of the corridor, I turned towards an
air lift.

It was broken. A woman lay inside, burns to her face and
arms, her simple black tunic ripped and tattered.

The panel above her head had been shot, its sparks still
churning out, falling towards her and singeing her hair and
clothes.