Paralyze the scourge war.., p.1
Paralyze: The Scourge War Book III, page 1
PARALYZE
The Scourge War Book III
A.A. Pierce
Pierce Publishing
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Copyright © 2024 by A.A. Pierce
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
PARALLEL
Free Story!
Acknowledgements
Also by A.A. Pierce
About A.A. Pierce
Chapter One
Black. solid, silent, and unforgiving.
A smooth, moist cavern devoid of stalactites, stalagmites, or other formations dug deep into the ground. Its sides trembled with the force of a thousand volcanic eruptions, though there was no sign of debris or falling stones.
Two long, sharp, glistening white stalactites appeared. More came into view. These were shorter, rounder. From the cave’s floor arose a dark-red, worm-like beast, thrusting forth like a wounded animal desperately trying to escape an oncoming forest fire.
It was a mouth. A woman’s mouth. Noise seeped into the air. At first, it sounded only like a distant whine, but then it erupted into a scream.
The scream of Lieutenant Trina Kagayama.
Her mouth shook as she belted out the cry born of the most intense agony imaginable. She lay in her coffin-shaped medi-pod in sick bay only minutes after having faced down the Scourge deep within the Vercingetorix.
Captain Ryan Monaghan woke with a start. He sat up, panting. His deep-blue eyes blinked him into reality, into his quarters. He frantically cast his gaze about the room; nothing looked out of the ordinary other than the articles Lieutenant Commander Shivani Chakravorti had brought from her quarters.
She’d hung her thali near the dispenser. A round brass plate decorated with little lotuses, it was a gift she’d received during her coming-of-age Kumari Puja ceremony when she’d reached the age of thirteen.
In the closet, one of her Fleet dress uniforms, with its knee-length hem, hung snugly among his clothes, including his uniforms and the only decent set of clothes he owned, a midnight-blue button-down and a pair of black slacks.
A family portrait hung on the wall near the foot of the bed. It was of her with her middle-aged parents and two younger sisters. The whole family was quite attractive, but Shivani was stunning with her light-brown skin, long black hair, and sparkling amber eyes.
Other knickknacks decorated the room, from a little Vishnu figurine to her United Earth Fleet Academy graduation certificate to a glossy selfie of her and Ryan hugging each other in front of Amélie’s Bayou, a fancy Creole restaurant on Terra Prima Station.
Ryan was so glad that she’d moved in. He was even more delighted at how little convincing it had taken.
He peered down at her smooth skin. Her face twitched pleasantly, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. Tempted to touch her, he lifted his hand over her face, but stopped short of dangling his fingers on her cheek. He then rested his arm between his legs.
“Trina again? Or Evan this time?” she asked in her incredibly sexy, posh, London accent. Her tone was that of concern, but not surprise.
These nightmares had tortured him for weeks now. The only question that was consistent was whether he’d dreamed of Trina or Ensign Evan Lapan.
“Trina,” Ryan said.
“When are you seeing Dr. Stevens again?” Shivani asked.
“Soon.” Ryan got out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom sink. Splashing his face with comforting, cool water, he lifted his eyes to the mirror. A weary, olive face stared back at him. He would see Liam and listen to whatever advice the doctor offered, but in the two or three sessions they’d had so far, Ryan had found little value. The only concrete suggestion Liam had given him was to focus on a neutral point—the corner of the commscreen—and focus his attention there while taking several deep breaths. Though Ryan had practiced this technique on more than one occasion, he hadn’t found it effective.
He heard the bedsheets shift as Shivani got up. Zippers zipped, and buttons clasped as she put on her uniform. Afraid that she would take off without even saying goodbye, he turned to her.
“Wanna get breakfast?” he asked. “At that place I was telling you about?”
“Yeah, all right.” Her tone was pleasant, if unenthusiastic.
He knew these times spent together were wearing on her. Each night, they passed out after rigorous, passionate sex, only for him to rise after an equally draining nightmare. He was afraid that only a few more of these would have to happen before she’d simply move back out again.
With her already dressed and waiting, he hastily threw on his uniform. They headed out arm in arm.
“So …” she began.
He could tell that she didn’t know what to say, or maybe she didn’t even want to say anything at all. He didn’t blame her. If she were waking up every morning with the same recurring nightmares, he would have found it just as exhausting. But he didn’t know what to tell her. Sorry for the inconvenient trauma of the last few weeks?
They stepped into the elevator and faced forward.
“Docking port,” he said.
“So … what do you think you’ll get up to today?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll check out Fairfield’s leisure deck. Maybe I’ll see how the repairs are going …” The crew was on shore leave after having destroyed the Hive, the Scourge’s shipyard-base. And yet, even though he’d also been desperate for some time off, he’d found that in the last few days, he hadn’t known how to spend it.
It also hadn’t been lost on him that he and Shivani had spent a minimal amount of time together since their arrival at the station. They’d gone out to dinner twice, but that had been it. It crossed his mind that perhaps Trina’s death had affected Shivani as well, but he couldn’t tell. If it had, she hadn’t told him.
Arriving at the Paragon’s spaceway, they passed into Fairfield Station, greeting a few fellow crewmen along the way.
“So, where is this place?” Shivani asked.
“Leisure deck.”
“Right. Makes sense.” She sounded as if she were forcing conversation.
He appreciated her effort, especially considering that he didn’t really feel like talking, either. “It’s good. Atatahak took me there for breakfast.” Mentioning the late captain’s name was enough to bring back all the events of the last few days. The successful attack on the Hive. The subsequent Scourge attack on the Vercingetorix, which had knocked her out of FTL. The rescue mission Ryan had mounted to save the survivors.
Of which there were none.
“This way.” He directed Shivani toward the restaurant. But the only reason he even mentioned the direction was to keep their conversation from completely dying.
He halted. “Wait. No, this way.” He turned in a new direction, but even as his foot stepped forward, he wasn’t sure. It hadn’t been that long since he’d met Atatahak for breakfast, since he’d navigated this route, and yet the exact way escaped him. “No, no. I was right the first time.” I hope.
“What cuisine?”
“French.”
“Of course.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, the name and all.”
She giggled. He laughed. He was glad that the tension between them had eased, though he knew whatever issues were lingering had not disappeared.
“What’s good there?” she asked.
“The croissants.” He couldn’t remember what Atatahak had ordered for him, so he simply mentioned the first French food he could think of. Hope they actually have croissants there, otherwise I’m gonna look like a complete jackass.
They soon arrived at Monsieur Greneuille’s, a traditionally styled neighborhood bistro with a terrace and rouge façade.
The waiter who had served Ryan and Atatahak greeted them at the door. “Monsieur, so good to see you again,” he said in a native French accent.
It impressed Ryan that the waiter recognized him, given that he’d only had one meal here and that weeks ago.
“For two?” the waiter asked.
“Oui.” Ryan
“Fameux. Parfait.” The waiter led them inside to a tiny table for two.
Ryan and Shivani sat and picked up their menus.
She frowned intensely at hers. “Let’s see here …”
“Yeah, I wish I could help you, but I don’t speak French.”
“It’s in English too.” Her tone had a harsh edge.
“Yeah, but I don’t even know what the English means.”
“You should take a class.”
“In English?”
She grinned. “That too.”
“What do you think you’re gonna get?”
“The English breakfast.”
“But this is a French place.”
“Are you literally menu-shaming me right now?” She smiled wide, but again there was a harshness to her tone.
“No,” he said defensively, “just thought you’d be a little more adventurous.”
“Are you seriously calling me unadventurous?” Her smile faded.
With her expression, he couldn’t tell whether she was kidding, but proceeded as if she still were. “No, you’re very adventurous.”
“Good answer. I want the eggs.”
“Sorry?”
“You asked me why the English breakfast. I want the eggs.”
“Great minds.”
“Copycat.”
He shrugged. “Got my mind on other things.” The second the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them.
“Such as?”
“Let’s enjoy our breakfast, Shivani.” He didn’t mean to sound so impatient, but he really didn’t want to get into everything.
Her face fell. “Ryan, what did I tell you about that?”
“About what?”
“Shutting me out. I told you if this is gonna work—”
“And what can I bring you?” The waiter stood right next to the table, ready to take their orders.
Ryan wondered if the man had been there long enough to hear the escalating awkwardness in their conversation.
“Yes, I’ll have the English breakfast. Thank you,” Shivani said.
“Same here,” Ryan said.
“I’ll get that for you right away.” The waiter took their menus and wandered off.
Ryan and Shivani stared at each other. He fidgeted with his silverware. She glanced outside at the main walkway, past the other restaurant façades.
“You glad to be back in Engineering? I mean, full-time?” he asked.
“Yeah”—she drew her attention back to him—“I mean, I’ve been back at full-time for a while now.”
“I know. I just wanted to check in.”
“So, what do you think our next assignment will be?”
“No idea. All Whitcomb said was that they had plans for me. For us.” Ryan was referring to the fact that during his last call to check in with Admiral Buzzetti, the president of United Earth and Commander-in-chief of the Fleet, Merrick Whitcomb, had personally dropped in to congratulate him on his success in destroying the Hive. At the time, Ryan didn’t have any idea what to make of it. He assumed that any day after that, Buzzetti would have called with further instructions or information or updates of some kind.
Radio silence.
“Wasn’t President Whitcomb on that call?” Shivani asked.
“Yeah.”
“My God, the president himself.”
“No kidding. I still haven’t gotten used to it.”
“And he didn’t say anything more specific?”
“Nope. Just big plans.”
“Well, whatever it is, I hope it’s not another bloody all-out firefight. I’m getting rather sick of those.”
“Me too. I’m hoping they send us on some survey mission, maybe. God knows you guys’ve earned it.”
“Yeah, especially after having destroyed that giant bloody thing with the virus.”
“And we couldn’t have done that without you.”
“No, I suppose not.” Her voice had no pride in it, rather a hint of shame.
He knew that she’d had plenty of reservations about having launched a virus into the Scourge shipyard-base, but had they not, it would have destroyed all the strike team ships. Then again, what with the loss of all but the Paragon and the Quasar, not to mention Trina, Ryan wondered if it was all worth it.
Their waiter arrived with their breakfasts and set them down before each one. “Bon appétit.”
Ryan and Shivani dug straight in. He was so relieved to be done with their current conversation that he wolfed down the first few bites. She did the same, and he wondered if she felt the same.
After two minutes, he paused to ask her about maybe finding a new date location on the station, in the Arboretum or just a pleasant view of the stars. Before he had a chance, though, he heard a little beep sneak up from her waist.
She finished chewing, wiped her mouth, and picked up her tablet. “Pardon me.”
“Go ahead.”
She skimmed through whatever notification had arrived. Her face fell. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
“I …” She placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God.” She stood. “I … I have to go.”
“What? What happened?”
“I’m sorry.” She looked down at her unfinished breakfast. Then lifted her eyes to his. “I’ll pay you back.”
“No, Shivani, it’s okay—”
“I have to go.” She took off.
“Shivani!”
But she’d already left the restaurant.
With a shrug, he continued his breakfast. Wonder what happened. Guess I’ll find out later.
A few minutes later, he finished his meal and paid the check.
“Where did your amie run off to?” the waiter asked.
Ryan didn’t answer him, instead offering only a polite nod. He hurried out.
On the walkway, he took a stroll along the various storefronts of Fairfield’s leisure deck. Spotting a Little Havana club, he walked over and paused at its entrance. Only days ago, while at Terra Prima, he and Shivani had bumped into Trina and Matthew, the Paragon’s Chief Security Officer, who had been enjoying a brief respite at the club on that station. Trina had indulged herself in a cigar, and Matthew had put up with it.
Ryan’s eyes stung. He couldn’t believe that all that had happened only a few days ago and that, unknown to all of them, that trip, that shore leave, would be the last all four would enjoy.
“Please, sir, come in,” a short man in a mustache greeted him.
Ryan had already forgotten that he was standing right in front of the club’s entrance. He stepped toward the man.
Likely expecting a sale, the man smiled wide. “We have a very fine selection of the finest Cuban, Nicaraguan, and Mexican cigars. And we have only the finest whiskeys and cognacs.”
“You got Islay?”
“Yes, Islay. So many bottles of Islay.” The man placed his hand on Ryan‘s back, easing him inside.
Ryan stopped and faced him. “Yeah”—he threw a glance inside the club—“that sounds nice.” He stepped out of the man’s embrace and headed back toward the Paragon.
Chapter Two
As Ryan entered the Paragon’s docking port, stepping onto its spaceway, the memories of the Scourge’s surprise attack on Shennong Station flooded his mind. Trina getting him to safety.
“Sir, you need to board!” her shout had echoed in his ears.
Stepping onto the Paragon, he then recalled when she and Matthew had gotten him safely aboard. The instant that Ryan had stepped on deck, he’d fallen to his knees and vomited all over because of the overwhelming trauma he’d just witnessed at Shennong’s destruction. While at the time he hadn’t seen it, he’d been aware that Trina had gently wiped the residual bits of vomit from his mouth.
“Gotta get you to the bridge, sir,” her words again rang in his mind.
“No shit, lady!” she’d snarled at Dr. Katsourakis, the head of Shennong, who’d made the boneheaded observation that they were under attack.
It was the first time that the good doctor had bothered Ryan and his crew with matters related to her comfort with the ship after they’d rescued her and her staff, and it wouldn’t be the last.
A few passersby greeted Ryan. He wished them well, but he couldn’t socialize with anyone. Not now. Something had been nagging at him for days and it was time to find out what was going on. He headed for sick bay.
