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  RESURGENCE

  Cobalt Rose: Volume 1

  By

  Stephen A. Fender

  Edited By

  Blake McLaughlin

  Special thanks to my friends, my family, and especially to my wife.

  Chapter 1

  The heavens opened in the star-filled sky and deposited an angel with a tail of fire that reached nearly a kilometer. The ship—or what was left of it—could do nothing for itself. That was the job of the pilot, the only remaining living thing onboard. The rest of the crew, dead nearly an hour now, did their best until the very end, which the pilot knew would be coming soon. Pitch and attitude control were lost, causing the battle-beaten freighter to tumble end-over-end on its journey home.

  And home was just beyond the small viewport—a beautiful, blue-white orb circling a handsome pair of binary stars. It came into view every few tumbles, the pilot trying to train his one functioning eye on it as it passed by. Try as he might, there was little else he could do.

  The onboard computer voiced a damage report—a never-ending list of critical items that no longer functioned. Was it too much to hope that one or two systems were still functional? That's when the fire had started in the engineering section.

  Or had it been there all along? Was it always there? He could no longer tell the difference. His ship was on fire, and in a few minutes, he would be as well. But only for a moment, perhaps two. Without control over the maneuvering thrusters, the ship would undoubtedly hit the atmosphere at an oblique angle.

  A few seconds of turbulence, then oblivion. Perfect.

  Then a second synthetic voice joined in, halting the damage reports and drawing him out of his introspection. 'Activating automatic fire suppression system,' the angel had said. Had the fire really reached this far forward in the hull?

  An undulating white cloud enveloped him, and he had to waft away the fog to see a half a meter in front of him. The motion and the coughing up of blood brought his senses more clearly in focus. At least the damn computer had stopped whining about the inequities of the ship.

  "Computer, status of the communications system," he thundered between coughs.

  "The communications relay is down," the ever-calm voice responded. "Main antenna has been damaged. Primary transceiver is not functioning."

  "What about the backup relay?"

  "Secondary communications relay is operational, though with reduced range. Secondary antenna is—"

  "Initiate a narrowband communication link, high-priority, channel one-six-four-seven," he managed, though the acrid air filling his lungs was making it difficult to talk. Not long now.

  "Chanel open," the computer replied seconds later as the hull began to vibrate.

  Through the haze of the cockpit, a single monitor glowed to life. On it was the face of a man, the lines of his old face more pronounced than the last time Bobby had seen him. The man carried a look of grave concern, and Bobby wondered if the smoke wafting around the small compartment obscured the full extent of his wounds.

  The shaking in the hull was getting more prominent with each passing second.

  "No time to talk," Bobby managed. "Sir, the mission was a complete failure. All crew dead. I need you to do something for me. I need you to get a message to Kristin. Tell her that I love her, I always have. And I'm proud of her. Can you tell her that? Are you receiving? Respond?"

  There was no response, but not because the transmitter was down or because the antenna was busted. It was because at that moment, hundreds of kilometers above the surface of the serene world, the powerless freighter skidded across the planet's exosphere. From the surface, it appeared like a shooting star across the mid-day sky, a brilliant ball of light and fire with a tail that stretched for dozens of kilometers. Then, after a brief final burst of light, the ball disintegrated into a half-dozen smaller lights before it was extinguished forever.

  * * *

  It was a perfect day for a funeral. From her vantage point on a gently sloping grassy rise, Kristin Glasco could see the unbroken sunlight streaming down to the pleasant hamlet of Coldfell about a kilometer distant. The town, built in the guise of an old English village from First Earth's distant past, contained more than a fair share of the latest technological wares from across Beta Sector. But on the surface, none were visible, which was just how the residents had wanted it. Framed by farmlands and pastures, and set against a backdrop of tree-covered mountains in the far distance, it was an image worthy of a postcard.

  It was easy to see why her brother had chosen this spot, on the serene world Arbrer, as his final resting place. The hard years he'd spent in service to the planetary government were infused with the opposites of every sight, sound, and smell currently surrounding Kristin. This was the peace and tranquility her brother had longed for during his living years, a serenity she'd little experienced, though she herself desired.

  Like brother like sister, I suppose.

  To Kristin's surprise, the assembled patrons at the service and the ensuing burial were few. Each of the two-dozen or so were strangers to her, most likely locals who'd come to know her brother in the years since he'd been transferred to this idyllic place. It was a far cry from the volume of people she knew her brother interacted with during his career with Arbrer Internal Intelligence—dozens if not hundreds of friends and foes alike that she thought would’ve been present for this occasion. Only one aging man, situated far enough away from the procession not to arouse suspicion, was known to her.

  Indeed, he was known to a significant number of people throughout Beta Sector. But gone were the robes and decorations of his office and the swarm of assistants and staff that buzzed around him like so many bees. This day, his dull tweed coat and pants, his patchwork Wigens cap, his button-down vest, right down to his scuffed and well-worn leather boots… all these things established that he was there incognito. Whether this was by design or out of respect for the dead, Kristin couldn't be sure. So many memories of her youth were rushing to the surface, and out of reverence for her brother, she tried hard to focus solely on the good ones, though those were few between. Her study of the man was interrupted when the words 'let us pray' were kindly spoken by the local vicar, and her attention was brought back to the mound of earth that entombed her brother.

  Bobby: her older brother and closest ally. As children, he was so protective of her, always ready to come between her and any adversary that had gotten in her way, be they real or imagined. She'd trusted him implicitly with her darkest secrets when no one else would listen, and he'd done the same to her. When she'd applied for the Unified Merchant Academy, Kristin thought Bobby would be crushed. It was a lifelong dream of his to join the ranks of Unified Sector Command, and she often thought he had the same for her. Instead—ever the good brother—he'd hugged her tightly and told her how immensely proud of her he was. She never got the chance to tell him of the many things she'd encountered, about the adventures she'd lived, or to explain why his sister was in the situation she was now faced with.

  Because of misplaced blind faith, there would be no far trader waiting for Kristin after the funeral, save for the one or two she might be able to con her way onto to serve as a loadmaster or possible steward. There were few options for a trader with black marks on her record.

  Looking out across the pastureland once more, she envisioned her future self as a farmhand, scraping the muck of the animals from her worn boots as she inwardly tumbled towards an uncertain and bleak future.

  Then, without realizing it, she began to sob uncontrollably.

  Chapter 2

  The weather had turned, and not for the better. Soaked to the bone and without an umbrella, Kristin had retired to her brother's house just outside the borders of the village. After shedding her damp ja
cket and well-worn muddy boots, she’d discovered that the house was just as he'd last left it, clean but lived in. There were no dishes left in the basin to wash, no food sitting unattended on the counter, no trash to take out to the incinerator. Only his bed was unmade, a sure sign that although he'd gotten older, some habits from his childhood still lingered.

  She made her way from room to room, trying to put the pieces of her brother's life together into a cohesive picture. Finding little in the form of clues to the life he'd lived for the last few months, she made her way to the kitchen in search of something to eat, but a staccato rapping at the front door stopped her.

  Opening the door, she saw the elderly gentleman from the funeral, his patchwork Wigens cap held loosely in one hand and a selection of local flowers in the other. "Hello, Kristin," he said, offering a faint smile. "It's been a long time."

  With the funeral now over, she’d allowed some bad memories to rise to the surface, some of which revolved around the man standing meekly before her. Kristin eyed him keenly, debating on whether to admit him or not. Sighing, she knew the sooner he was allowed in, the sooner he would leave. Stepping clear, she accepted him into the foyer.

  "I'm sorry about Bobby," he began as the door closed behind him. "He was a good lad."

  "What do you want?" she asked in annoyance, then turned to face the visitor. "I mean, what can I do for you, Governor Riddle?"

  "So, we're back to titles, are we?" he asked, setting the flowers and hat on a nearby shelf.

  "Were we ever really anything different?" she replied quickly, crossing her arms in defiance.

  He smiled meekly before putting his hands in his pockets. "Once, long ago, perhaps we were."

  "I don't recall." It was a lie, but she was too angry over Bobby’s death to take it back.

  He chuckled softly. "I see. Well, when your father died, and I was asked to look after you and Bobby—"

  She raised her hand in an attempt to stop him. "Don't."

  He paused before continuing. "When I was asked to look after you and Bobby, I did so as much out of obligation as friendship. I owed him that much. Perhaps more, much more than you will ever realize. I'm only sorry things were never smooth between us, but I did the best I could. For what it's worth, I do care deeply about you."

  "I know you do, Robert,” Kristin huffed. “But that’s not the issue here. Bobby… dead in a shuttle accident?" she snapped. "I don't think you were looking after him at all. He was one of the best pilots I've ever known."

  "Bobby was fully capable of taking care of himself. I've never known him to make a rash or stupid decision in his life, whether behind the controls of a ship or not. I was immeasurably proud of the officer he'd become."

  While Kristin and Robert had their differences in the past, she never thought him capable of putting Bobby directly in harm's way. But now she had her doubts. "I don't buy any of this. I want you to tell me everything you know. You owe me that much."

  He shook his head slowly, his voice laced with pity. "I miss the old Kristin, the one that trusted me.”

  “That would be nine-year-old Kristin. As you can see, I’ve grown up since then. And, after what’s happened to me in the last two months, I learned that the only person I can really trust is myself.”

  Riddle nodded. “I read the report from the Unified Trade Guild. You did your best in a difficult situation.”

  “No, I didn’t. It was a stupid mistake that I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. And you still haven’t given me an answer.”

  "You presuppose I have one."

  "You're one of the lead chairmen on the Unified Security Council," she seethed. "And this is Bobby we're talking about, not some run-of-the-mill intelligence officer. You know damn well you fully investigated this before I even set foot on this planet, so don't stand there and play the innocent diplomat to me!" she screamed, slapping the wall hard enough to sting. She tried to rub away the pain, but it was running deeper than she realized.

  Resigned, he nodded slowly. "Bobby was murdered."

  The word hit her like a ton of osmium. "Murdered?" she repeated in a whisper. "But… how? When?!"

  Riddle picked up the flowers he'd set down, then placed them in a nearby vase. "There's a planetary system not far from here—Camia," he said as he absently arranged the bouquet. "It's a bit off the beaten path. It's so nondescript even the Unified survey teams passed it over in favor of more impressive systems. But, rumor has it that some tenants have moved in, ones that aren't too responsive to order and democracy."

  "Pirates?"

  He nodded. "We think so. Arbrer Internal Intelligence believes they came in about six months ago. We'd already lost three civilian merchant ships before I could drum up enough support in the local government to send out a team on an intelligence-gathering mission."

  "And Bobby was on this mission?"

  Robert nodded slowly. "We needed to get close enough to get some viable data on what was going on in Camia. Bobby was sent in, leading a team of four. They were posing as merchants onboard a modified Class-Three freighter."

  "So, what happened?"

  "Honestly, we're not sure. Bobby's ship was already heavily damaged when one of our long-range communication relays picked it up. He was barely alive, likely wounded when his freighter came under attack." Robert finished plucking at the flower and turned to Kristin. "If it's any consolation, his last thoughts were of you. He wanted me to tell you how much he cared for you."

  That was so like Bobby. Even on his deathbed, he wouldn't be thinking of himself. "And the intelligence you were looking for?"

  Governor Riddle shook his head. "We found very little in the wreckage. The data drives and computers in Bobby's freighter were too damaged to tell us anything useful. As I said, his last words were of you. He didn't say anything before or after that concerning the mission itself, other than it was a total failure. But I'm convinced that whoever or whatever is there at Camia is what killed him."

  She turned away from his gaze, rubbing her still stinging palm. "And Sector Command? They're going to send out the military, right? A cruiser or a frigate or some—"

  "I wish they were. What with the war against the Meltranians still being waged, the Unified government won't allocate any resources to this sector until we can provide concrete evidence that something is awry. They say it’s an internal problem for Arbrer Intelligence to handle. Honestly, Kristin, I've personally gone to the council myself, all but begging them for assistance. They're not going to allocate anything here until we have more proof."

  "You mean more bodies."

  He moved to a nearby window, one looking out across the rolling hills. "Preparations were underway for another mission to Camia. We had another team assembled, a ship… everything was ready. Then there were a series of accidents.

  "Accidents?"

  "Nothing you need to concern yourself with," he dismissed. "Regardless, Arbrer's governing body was starting to sour to the idea of wasting more resources on the problem. It all added up to the mission being scrapped while the politicians figured out a new strategy. Damn them," he cursed. "They owe me favors a dozen times over, yet they're going to twiddle their thumbs while Bobby's killers are still out there.” He turned, looking at her with marked determination. “But I'm not so easy to dismiss, and I know you aren't either. That's why I'm here."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I came here today to say two things: First, that I'm sorry about what happen to Bobby."

  "And the second?"

  Riddle smirked. "To see if you want to do something about it."

  "Meaning what?"

  He reached into the pocket of his tweed coat and withdrew a stack of credits, placing them on the shelf where his hat had been. "Fifteen-thousand, in advance. Ten thousand more when you bring back the intelligence I need."

  "You're joking," she scoffed, though her eyes never left the stack of money. It was more than she’d made in her last year of trading. "My master’s license
has been revoked, meaning no one is going to take me onboard as part of their crew. I'm not qualified to—"

  "You're uniquely qualified, Kristin. I tried sending out agents… some of my best people… and they never came back. But I still need someone to get to Camia and obtain the information I need to present our case to the Unified Council as soon as possible.”

  As soon as possible? “What’s the rush?”

  “Aside from not wanting to see further harm come to innocent merchants?”

  Kristin was silent, folding her arms in preparation for the revelation.

  Robert smiled weakly. “There’s a Unified Trade Guild summit about to take place on Tarsus. They’re evaluating the classifications of some of the trade routes through a lot of subsectors, including this one. If these acts of piracy… or whatever they are, continue unabated, I fear that they’ll have a negative impact on our current standings with the guild. That alone could cost this sector millions—if not billions—of credits annually. Many of the people in this sector are farmers, factory workers, asteroid miners, and such. They can’t afford further hardship.”

  So, you’re just going to leave the fate of the entire sector up to me? "You're asking a lot, Robert."

  "You won't be alone. You'll have a well-trained man at your side, as well as a specialized team I've assembled for you."

  "Wait, I’m confused. You said you didn’t want any operatives on this mission.”

  "I don't want one in command. That's where things tend to go sideways. And, for the record, let's just say this particular agent has been detached from all official channels."

  But Kristin was far from convinced. "And these crewmen?"

  "They're not the most reputable lot, but they'll do their jobs. They have their own problems to deal with, ones that will mostly go away if this mission is successful. They’ve assured me that they’ll stay in line for the duration of this assignment, but I’d stay vigilant if I were you. There's also a Class-Six trading vessel at the spaceport in Celebury, about thirty kilometers from here. It's been outfitted with basic offensive and defensive equipment, as well as some advanced surveillance systems. I want you as her captain."