The Zygan Emprise
Renegades
Book 1
Redemption
Book 2
Rebirth
Excerpt, Book 3
By Y.S. Pascal
www.zygfed.com
Copyright 2016 Y.S. Pascal
Renegades
The Zygan Emprise, Book 1
By Y. S. Pascal
www.zygfed.com
Amphitrite Books
Los Angeles, California
For Anastasia, George, and Alexander
Acknowledgments
Thanks to E.G. and Effie for their encouragement; Anastasios, George, and Alex for their patience; and Stacy for her inspiration.
And thanks to John and Kerry for making a fantasy reality. Thanks to MotherMary for her wisdom, Finally, thanks to Cindy for standing by me all these years, sharing my dreams.
Book 1
Renegades
aka
Renegade Paladins
Where Angels Fear to Tread
Charge!
-- Shiloh Cynthia Rush
Meet the Rush Family
John, 26, a graduate student at the University of Maryland, now departed for the U.S. Army and missing in action.
George, 24, a law student at Georgetown University
Connie, 22, a Masters degree student in high school math and science education at Georgetown University.
Shiloh, 18, ace graduate of Mingferplatoi Academy and a Zygan Intelligence catascope. Plays Tara Guard, Space Cadet, in the Singularity TV series, Bulwark.
Blair, 17, after completing high school, has moved to the UK to work on his uncle’s farm.
Christine/”Kris”, 15, popular teen actress of the Disney series “Mid-Kids”.
Bobby, 14, high school student and occasional commercial actor
Andi, 13, middle school student and budding artist
Billy, 12, middle school student and Little League champ
Glossary of Zygan and English Terms:
Aheya: Zyga’s second largest city
Anamorph: Change one’s appearance
Anastasis: Rebirth/resurrection
Andart: Guerilla fighter/terrorist opposing the Zygan Federation
Anorak: A heavy jacket with a hood, lined with fur.
Athame: A Madai (and Earth) dagger
Bartitsu: A type of Japanese Martial Arts
Base 12: Like Base 10, but with two more numbers. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,T,E,10, etc,….
CANDI: Cascading Auxiliary Neurosynaptic Discharge Interaction, which sends wireless signals directly into the brain.
Catascope: Zygan Intelligence secret agent
Cherukles: Zygan handcuffs
Chorize: To separate your mind from your body during ka’vyr
Chiduri: A desert planet on the tip of Orion’s sword, home to crab-like species that often shape-shift into rodent life-forms.
Comm: Communications holo
Emprise: An adventurous, daring, or chivalric enterprise.
Enclave: A Zygan neighborhood that duplicates a planet’s environment.
Ergal: A Zygan tool that can be used to transport in time and space, become invisible, increase or decrease in size
Gamil: A six-legged equine native to the planet Chiduri.
Geryon: A spear-like weapon that can pierce and uncover anamorphed and muted layers
Holo: A holographic (3-D) touch-screen computer
Hyperdrive: Faster-than-light speed
Ifestia: A harsh, volcanic planet orbiting the Orion star Alnitak that hosts telepathic species.
Invisible-ize: You got it!
Kalyvi: A Chidurian cave dwelling
Ka’vyr: An Ifestian mind-control technique
Kharybdis: A watery planet in Orion’s
Lev: Levitate
Madai: An ethnic group of reptilians from the planet Orion Alpha
Mayall II: Zyga’s home star, in the Galaxy of Andromeda
Mega: Grow
Megara: A planet famed for its outstanding entertainment and vacation sites, home to many species of humanoids.
Meiotes: A species of Ytrans whose young are born in complementary pairs, and spend their lives together as partners.
M-fan: Use an Ergal to appear
Micro: Shrink
Mikkin: Zyga’s capital city
Mute: Change one’s appearance and genetic make-up
Nav: Navigation holo
Nejinsen: The premier Zygan Medical Center, in the Zygan city of Aheya
Omega Archon: The king of the Zygan Federation
Orion Alpha: The planetary home of the Madai assassins, a lizard-like species.
Pedagogue: Mingferplatoi Academy Professor
Plegma: A cloud-like nebula, home of the Syneph species.
Sentinel Corps: The elite Zygan Royal Guards
Sidon: A city in Ancient Phoenicia in the Middle East
Stun Gun: A Zygan weapon with multiple settings, including Stun and Kill. Stun freezes the target, Kill lasers the target to a crisp.
Syneph: A cloud-like being that can change shape and color.
Temporal Leap: Using an Ergal to go move around in time without looping—so you can return at any time, even before having “left”.
Thal: A Kharybdian dwelling
Thomeo: Orion style skyscrapers that look like giant inverted ice cream cones.
Time Loop: Using an Ergal to go into a different time and then return right after you left
X-fan: Use an Ergal to leave or disappear
Ytra: The home planet of the Meiotes.
Zyga: The home planet of the Zygan Federation
Zygfed: The Zygan Federation
Zygint: The Zygan Intelligence Agency
Chapter 1
Aurora
Mingferplatoi Academy—two years ago
His heel hit the edge of my lip. I felt a sharp stab of pain and my blood began to flow. Livid, I spun around and slammed the side of Spud’s cheek with my fist. He cried out and collapsed into a crouch, then sprang towards my stomach. I was ready. I tightened my abs and shot both arms up into his jaw before he could make contact. The force of the blows sent his body back onto the floor, where he lay grunting and clutching his face.
Still wary, I lifted my foot and lightly placed it on Spud’s writhing abdomen, then looked up at the pedagogue for an acknowledgment of my victory. I caught the flicker in in the edge of my vision, but it was too late. Spud’s powerful legs launched into my pelvis and threw me screaming against the wall. For the next few minutes, I remembered nothing more.
* * *
Maryland—three years ago
If I’d known I’d never see him again, I would have told him how much I loved him. John was my favorite brother, but I was furious at him for choosing the Army over us. He made the announcement at dinner on April third, exactly three years ago, at 6:52 pm. This was going to be our last supper together for, he insisted, only a few months. I remember staring down, fiddling with my pendant. I couldn’t bear to look up at his face. I had just turned fifteen a few weeks before, and he’d promised to teach me how to ride his Moto Guzzi. Another broken pledge.
John’s flight was scheduled out of Dulles at 6:45 the next morning. The only thing on his mind was getting ready in time.
We were all kind of in shock. My youngest sister Andi was only eleven. She cried like she was losing Grandpa Alexander again. The rest of us tried not to. I glanced at Connie, who was nineteen going on thirty. Her eyes reflected disappointment and the barest hint of distaste. John had nev
er been her number one sib.
With eight brothers and sisters to pepper him with questions, John spent the rest of the meal explaining why he’d made his sudden decision: to serve his country, for travel and adventure. For a chance to learn about things he’d always wanted to know. Tweens Billy and Bobby shared John’s excitement without really understanding the danger. The virtual soldiers in the war games they played every day could be resurrected to life with the simple touch of a button. There wouldn’t be such a button in the Army if something went wrong. I sat quietly at the table, sliding the food I could no longer swallow around on my plate with my salad fork.
John gobbled down his stew and then, anxious to pack, rushed to his room trailing siblings like a paternal Pied Piper. I didn’t feel like shouting my thoughts over a row of bobbing heads. My only hope to catch him alone for a few minutes was to set my alarm and wake up well before the sun. But it was the sheets of rain assaulting our cottage that made me leap out of bed in the middle of the night. The drumbeat of the drops on my half-opened window had almost drowned out the sound of John’s motorcycle as it sped away from our farmhouse and, carving an S-shaped skid in the gravel shoulder, turned the corner down by the gate to the main road.
I stood frozen by the window, long after he was gone. The rain tasted salty on my lips, which couldn’t speak the words they should’ve said: “Don’t go.”
* * *
Mingferplatoi Academy—two years ago
Maybe Spud should’ve just knocked me out for good. My consciousness returned just as the adrenaline was fading—everything, and I mean everything, hurt. Especially my Academy classmates’ laughter from the gymnasium stands. I’d let that 6-foot gangling Ichabod Crane with the stuck-up English accent throw me against the wall like a sack of potatoes. That would never happen again. I’d be sure to return the favor before we graduated.
“Shall I call you a medic?” I looked up to see Spud bending down to help me.
“Call me a re-match,” I shot back, grunting, as I leapt up on my feet, ignoring his extended hand. “You won’t catch me with that trick twice.”
“I should expect not,” he whispered, brushing a stray lock of dirty blond hair from his sweaty forehead. “Unlike yours truly, Andarts are not known to be merciful.”
If he hadn’t said that with a hot British burr, I would’ve decked him.
* * *
Hollywood—present day
“Earth to Shiloh,” Chell’s voice sang in my ears. “Anybody home?”
I focused back on my image in the full-length mirror before me and had to admire Chell’s handiwork as a make-up virtuoso. The vanity lights, aided by several flavors of mousse and gel, had brought out the blonde highlights in my very, very short, spiky hair and covered the jagged pink scar just above my hairline. Chell, whose own long brown curls teased the toned pecs bursting through his shiny satin muscle shirt, had cloaked my scattered freckles with a smooth layer of flax foundation. My azure eyes were framed by an aggressive ebony corona and the faintest pink of my lips bled through the snowy layers of the ivory lipstick he’d painted on with delicate brush strokes. Standing behind me, I could see Chell, his hands resting at the low-cut waist of his slim-hipped jeans, shaking his head. “Girl, you are a space cadet.”
It had taken Chell a mere hour to transform me from acne-cursed actress Shiloh Rush to Ensign Tara Guard, one of the teen commandos on the sci-fi action series Bulwark. (Catch us Fridays at 10, 9 Central, on the Singularity Channel and online at www.singularitytv.com/bulwark!)
I leaned my head back in the make-up chair and looked up at Chell with a rueful smile. “Credit’s yours, not mine.”
“I read you, sister,” he sighed. “Hey, with fashion, or after a fashion, we’re all speaking our piece.”
“Or on the prowl for it?” I teased.
“Naughty, naughty. You were due on set three minutes ago, hon,” Chell chided as he pulled off the tissues protecting my collar and brushed some stray powder from the shoulders of my skin-tight black vinyl uniform, studded with the decorative insignia of the Phaeton Alliance. Winking, he added, “Go get them bad guys for me, will ya?”
* * *
The flash of light was blinding. The blast from the laser cannon had just missed our Jetta starcruiser by mere millimeters.
“Arm neutron torpedos!” I barked at Spud, whose spindly fingers were frantically keyboarding over the controls of the Jetta’s weapons console.
“Fire!” I ordered.
A large explosion to my right threw me and my partner against the communications panel, smashing my left elbow on the hard edge of the metal. Fueled by the pain, I cried, “We’re surrounded! 360 torpedo dispersion!”
“Aye, aye,” he responded in a terse clip, his eyes glued to the blue screens of our vessel’s navigational computers. “Engaging.”
As our spacecraft pitched forward, I reached over and slammed my fist into the weapons board, setting off a shower of fireworks just beyond my windscreen. Moments later, a massive jolt shook our cruiser and it yawed violently side to side. We gripped our control panels and looked at each other in alarm.
Spud nodded. “It is our only chance!”
“Evasive!” I ordered as I hit the giant red button flashing on my console and pulled my joystick back as far as it could go. Fighting the move, our spaceship groaned up and to port, and the starfield ahead of us morphed into a field of blinding lights. I threw my hands in front of my face to cover my protesting eyes and screamed.
“Cut!” Jerry Greenspan, the pudgy director of this week’s Bulwark episode shouted. “That’s a good one, kids.” Without waiting for a reply, he spun on his heels and hustled towards the far end of the giant hangar where the grips were lighting the Touareg II prison set for our next scene as alien captives.
Visibly annoyed, I climbed out of the prop ship, rubbing my elbow, with Spud on my heels. My co-star eyed my arm with a mischievous twinkle, “One of Zyga’s best pilots indeed.”
“Dude, I wasn’t the one steering this ship,” I whispered back. I shook my fist at Mark, the special effects coordinator, who mouthed the word “sorry” from across the soundstage, safely behind his shielded control panel overlooking our faux spacecraft. Spud knows that, in real life, I’m a much better pilot than Ensign Tara Guard—or Mister William “Spud” Escott, for that matter. I scored better on my final exam at the Academy last summer than he did, acing the segment on dodging fusion torpedos in hyperdrive. My own Zoom Starcruiser, which goes zero to sixty light-years a second in a second, is totally ding-free. That is, if you don’t count the tiny dent from my little fender bender with the Soviet satellite Sputniki in 1957.
Yup, you read that right. 1957. Way before any of us was born—including me. I’d just traveled back to 1957 for a few minutes on a mission for the Zygan Federation. I know you don’t believe me, but of course time travel is possible. Don’t let all the paradox phobics convince you it isn’t.ii All it takes is the right technology. Earth doesn’t have it yet. But the Zygan Federation does. Oh, yeah, sure, I guess I’d better explain that, too…
* * *
In the galaxy of Andromeda, just up the Universe and around the corner from our own galaxy, the Milky Way, there are billions and billions of stars. Almost all of those distant stars have orbiting planets, though Earth scientists won’t be able to see them until they launch the McAuliffe Telescope in 2053. One of those planets, Zyga, orbits a blue dwarf star near the center of Andromeda.
Zyga is three times the size of Jupiter, and has millions more inhabitants than our own solar system’s largest planet, even if you count all of Jupiter’s methane-breathing microorganisms. Zyga is the home world of the Zygan Federation, an alliance of intelligent beings from over ten thousand planets in Andromeda and the Milky Way. It’s a very advanced society with knowledge and technology that makes earthlings look like chimps, and, unfortunately, chimps with very dangerous toys.
Earth has a lon
g way to go before it can even qualify for membership in the Zygan Federation. One basic membership criterion is discovering hyperdrive, travel faster than the speed of light. That should only take Earth scientists a few centuries or so to achieve. But another criterion, achieving world peace? I don’t see that happening in my lifetime. Which, like most Zygans’, could be as long as several thousand years.
Yes, I’m Zygan now. I used to be American, but you have to choose your loyalties, and I chose Zyga. It wasn’t to get the chance to live almost forever. In my job, as a Zygan agent, the odds are kind of against that. My incentive to join the Zygan Federation was much more important--my brother John.
* * *
Maryland—two and a half years ago
I remember it was early May. The cherry blossoms had already drifted to the ground and blanketed the path from our farmhouse to the gate like a pink snowfall. The suffocating humidity that envelopes the East Coast every summer hadn’t made its way up to Maryland yet, so the day was crisp, sunny, and clear. My brother George had taken a heavy stack of books out to the gazebo to study for his finals. Law schools would not look kindly on an applicant whose grades weren’t totally impressive. Andi was sitting quietly on the wooden deck by his side, drawing a picture of her big brother with pastels. My oldest sister Connie was over at the Bradfords’ house, tutoring their kids in algebra, and definitely wouldn’t be back for hours. Blair had flown back home to the UK for the summer, and Kris and the little guys were at an open casting call for some alien invasion movie they were planning to shoot at the Washington Monument. And John, well, none of us had heard from him since he’d sped off to his military “adventure” the month before. Every time the phone would ring, I’d jump out of my seat, only to be disappointed time and time again. The next call—that would be John, it had to be.