QUIET

  WAR

  Book 1: Farewell Amity Station

  FRANK KENNEDY

  Dedicated to everyone who knows they can do it better.

  c. 2024 by Frank Kennedy

  All rights reserved

  A note from the author:

  Farewell Amity Station is set in the universe of the Collectorate, which includes at least three other series. Reading them is not a prerequisite. However, if you want a wider look at the Collectorate, please check out those offerings.

  I’d love for you to become part of my literary family. Sign up for my newsletter, which drops every three weeks along with free books and special offers. You can also follow me on Facebook, where you’ll find me hanging out daily. Come on over and let’s chat!

  1

  Collectorate Standard Year (SY) 5370

  Philadelphia Redux

  Planet: Earth

  THE BRAT NEVER LISTENED before he ran. Trevor thought a leash would do the trick. It worked with Fritz, a dachshund equal to the brat in age and cunning. But Mum, ever the stickler, forbade Trevor from treating his little brother like a pet.

  She did, however, insist he keep a constant eye on the rambunctious little fool while she tended to her work. They were two months behind on rent, living beyond their means in Earth’s largest metropolis.

  Didn’t help that the war took Father a hundred light-years away. Every time Trevor broached the subject, water pooled in her eyes. She heard nothing since the Swarm invaded Collectorate space.

  And now, rumors spread of enemy cruisers in the Sol system, preparing to run the orbital blockade.

  Trevor never saw the city so still. Beneath giant glass towers, the streets and parks were empty but for secure drones and a few defiant citizens who refused to shelter in place.

  Such a lovely spring day. Not the wisp of a cloud. Templar Park beckoned, twenty levels down. The brat could play until drained of his boundless energy. Trevor could take out his tablet and write stories about great sea adventures set long before humans took to the stars.

  Trevor resisted the allure and closed the curtains.

  “Fritz needs to go,” the brat said, entering Trevor’s bedroom.

  “He can hold it, Connor.”

  The brat played with the doorknob.

  “No, he can’t, Trev. His bladder is all full.”

  Trevor smirked. He knew his brother’s game.

  “I took Fritz for a diddle before you got up. He’s fine.”

  Connor twisted his lips into a squishy mess that usually preceded a tantrum. Trevor didn’t want to hear it.

  “Look, Connor. Just take Fritz to the water room and set him in the shower well. He’s done it there before.”

  The brat gnashed his teeth and hugged the door like a dance partner. There followed the familiar first moan.

  “That’s nasty, Trev-or. We need to take him outside.”

  “No. The city’s on lockdown. We have to make do. Mum’s orders.”

  Connor threw back his head and pulled the door shut.

  “I hate you.”

  Trevor heard him run down the hall and bang on Mum’s door, but she’d invariably tell him to go away. No one disturbed her work. She appeared only for Trevor’s kiosk meals and to pee.

  She slept beside her workstation lately. The job’s demands were endless, she confessed to Trevor. It wasn’t fair, but her bosses were former Solomons and had no problem making a Chancellor pay for the sins of her caste.

  “It’s a long road,” she told Trevor. “The hard feelings will end, but it will take time.”

  “Mum, the civil war ended six years ago.”

  He was six when the Chancellory surrendered. He never understood what it was all about or why so many had to die.

  “Their grievances go back centuries, Trevor. If our roles were reversed, I ...”

  She rubbed her eyes and yawned. Trevor watched her age years in a matter of months.

  “Until Father returns, I need you to keep on top of things around here – starting with your brother. Promise?”

  “I will, Mum.”

  Trevor did his best for the three months since he made that promise, but he also had the advantage of a new dog and Templar Park to keep Connor preoccupied. The lockdown crippled his strategy.

  The tantrums were the worst. Normal for a five-year-old perhaps, but insufferable to a sitter who was twelve. Trevor couldn’t lock the door and leave the brat to his own devices. The risk to property and life were too great.

  If Mum only took the time to see how Connor had deteriorated. The little boy knew his world had turned upside down, but no one told him why, or when it might right itself. Even Trevor didn’t have the answers.

  He glanced outside the curtains again and sighed.

  It was almost time for luncheon. If he made Connor’s favorite wrap and read to him afterward ... OK, that was good for maybe two hours. Then he’d need a new plan.

  When would it end?

  Fine. Lunch.

  He passed by the brat’s bedroom en route to the kitchen. The door was flung open. No sounds from inside.

  “Connor? Ready for a bite to eat?”

  The bed linens had been slung about the room, and a helping of dog toys lay atop the exposed mattress.

  Great. A full-on tantrum. It’d been a week since the last time Connor destroyed anything of value.

  The pillows were still intact. Good sign.

  “Connor? Where did you ...?”

  Trevor felt a deep, horrifying pit in his belly when he returned to the corridor. He had a clean view through the living room to the front door, which was propped open with a plush toy.

  “Cudfrucker. The little bast ...”

  He stood outside Mum’s door.

  No. He wasn’t going to raise the alarm. She gave him one job: Keep Connor safe.

  Trevor raced into his bedroom and grabbed his hand-comm. He linked in to Connor’s amp and tracked the boy’s movement. The brat was descending – already ten levels down the lift.

  “Don’t care what Mum says. I’m going to beat your ass till it’s purple this time.”

  He cursed himself for the thought and dashed from their flat. The lifts were close, but none tracked near Level 20. Why busy now? It was lockdown. He didn’t need assholes making life more difficult.

  “Hey, Trev, whatcha doing there?”

  Cud! Thomas Quinlan. Sixteen, built like a small mountain, and always up for a little Chancellor beat-down.

  Trevor matched the Solomon boy eye-for-eye, his Chancellor genetics already sprouting him to six-five with a few more inches to go. Yet he ignored the caste training techniques – Mum couldn’t afford to send him to Tier-Up class anyway – and had become gangly. Thomas could toss him about like a raggedy doll.

  “Not today, Thomas. Just ... go home.”

  Bad choice of words. Thomas went for the predictable snark.

  “Sorry, my master. I’ll swing around, grand sir. Wouldn’t want to defy the little Chancellor lord.”

  Trevor heard knuckles crack. Thomas balled his fists.

  OK. Be smart. It’s what Mum says: Truth first.

  The nearest lift approached from Level 25.

  “Please, Thomas. I know we’re not supposed to be out, but it’s my brother. He ran off. I need to find him before ...”

  Trevor felt a hot breath which smelled of garlic.

  Typical.

  “Connor’s loose?” Thomas laughed. “And we’re worried about the Swarm. You need to put shackles on that little freak.”

  The door opened. Trevor raced inside, praying Thomas did not follow. He swiveled around to find the mountain with his nose stuck to within an inch of the threshold.

  “I-I’m sorry, Thomas. I have to go now.”

  Thomas bared his teeth as the door slipped shut.

  “I’ll be waiting, Trev. I always wait for you.”

  Unlike many Solomon bullies, Thomas backed up his threats. Trevor brushed it off for the moment. One crisis at a time.

  The amp tracker showed Connor exiting through the lobby. Why didn’t security stop him? Or maybe they tried, but the brat slipped through their grasp like an eel.

  The answer became apparent when he reached the lobby: It was empty save a pair of cleaning drones. Something else chilled Trevor.

  Horns. Outside.

  He hadn’t heard them since the civil war.

  “Cudfrucker.”

  As he exited Obersson Tower 17, Trevor passed panicked residents rushing inside. No one tried to stop him, although a secure drone hovered in the grand plaza, instructing all citizens to take shelter.

  Was this it? The real thing? Were they running the blockade?

  Trevor crossed the plaza on the pedestrian bridge into Templar Park, where ornate gardens, tall oaks, and water fountains betrayed the urgency of the day. Connor was two hundred meters ahead, making for his usual haunt. Not even the city’s defense horns deterred him.

  “Please let it be a drill,” Trevor muttered.

  He found Connor alone at the children’s playground, yet he wasn’t playing. The boy was shouting through his tears.

  “Fritz! Fritz! Here, boy.”

  Trevor grabbed his brother by the shoulders and swung him around.

  “What are you doing out here? We’re in dang ...”

  Connor squished his lips.

  “F-Fritz. He ran away. Over there.”

  He pointed toward th
ick botanical gardens surrounding a pond.

  “Shit, Connor. Where?”

  “I don’t know, Trevor. You have to find him. He won’t come.”

  “He probably can’t hear you over the horns.”

  Trevor feared making the tough decision. If they left the dog, Connor would scream and kick all the way home. Trevor gave it his best and shouted for Fritz to the top of his lungs.

  “Again,” Connor insisted. “He can’t hear you.”

  Trevor complied, but how long to wait? The glass city rose around them in giant columns stretching for several kilometers. Were they the only two fools standing outside in this canyon?

  “C’mon, brother. We have to start back. Fritz will catch up.”

  Connor pushed him away.

  “No, Trev-or. He’s my dog. We ...”

  Something caught the boy’s eye. A second later, he ballooned a churlish smile through his tears.

  “Fritz!”

  The dachshund leaped out of a thicket of shrubbery and dodged playground obstacles. Connor fell to his knees and welcomed Fritz into his arms.

  “You brought him outside without a leash?”

  Connor cuddled the dog in his lap.

  “He hates the leash.”

  “Fine. We’ll talk about it inside. We have to go now.”

  “No. I want to play.”

  One thought entered Trevor’s mind:

  I’m not going to have kids when I grow up.

  “Connor, look around. There’s no one else. It’s not safe out here. I promise ... as soon as we get the all-clear, we’ll spend a whole day at the park. Whatever you want to do. Just ... please don’t be a monster about it. We have to go.”

  Connor relented, but they hadn’t walked twenty meters before the brat pointed west of the city, through the great canyon.

  “Wow. Trev, look! What’s that?”

  Trevor saw a cluster of suns burst into life and fade as quickly.

  Wormholes. Oh, no.

  Seconds later, the apertures gave birth.

  Though the wormholes opened several kilometers from the city, Trevor did not mistake the objects that exited.

  “Warships. Connor, we need to hurry.”

  “But it’s so pretty. Can’t we watch?”

  Trevor didn’t answer. The horns blared across the city at a higher pitch. No, this was definitely not a drill. A second burst of apertures inside the original few hypnotized the boy.

  He saw scattered, pinpoint flashes of yellow and green intersecting the many clustered warships. Then the sky turned pink, blotting out the combatants.

  “Oh!”

  They said it together.

  “What happened?” Connor asked.

  “Don’t know. Explosion of some kind. C’mon. Inside. Now.”

  Instead of running, Trevor pulled the awestruck little brat, who almost fumbled Fritz while insisting he wanted to see the whole show.

  The battle burst through the wide, pink fog.

  Three warships. The lead drew fire from its pursuers and returned blasts from its aft turrets. Trevor didn’t recognize its configuration.

  The enemy was here. They were coming.

  “Please, Connor. That’s enough. We have to go faster.”

  “But it’s getting closer. See.”

  The enemy ship carried a plume of black smoke from its aft as it descended but wasn’t spinning out of control. The city’s defense perimeter launched missiles from the ground. They smashed against the warship’s belly without effect.

  It was bigger now. Almost to the city. Too close.

  Trevor had enough of this. He scooped up his brother and pressed on. How many more wormholes were about to open? Thousands of citizens had evacuated Redux; they assumed the largest city would be the first target. Yet Mum never proposed they leave. Too much work to do.

  He kept his eyes laser-focused on Obersson Tower 17. Its lobby, its safety, was maybe two minutes away at this pace. If he didn’t obsess on the danger, it would pass. The defense shield or the UNF warships would finish the job.

  It would be a great story to tell someday.

  The strategy might have worked had he not felt the city tremble around him. A thunder rolled between the glass towers as the sound of cannon fire intensified.

  “Fritz!”

  Connor dropped him meters shy of the pedestrian bridge into the plaza. The dog barked at the approaching goliath.

  We won’t make it.

  The Swarm war cruiser filled the canyon as it tilted side to side. It was too big. Too wide.

  It clipped Obersson Tower 10. An explosion near the top sent glass and debris raining down. Its engines screamed and its bow dipped. It was coming down on top of ...

  Trevor didn’t think. He lugged Connor down a green slope until they found refuge beneath the bridge.

  “Fritz. You forgot Fritz. Trevor, he ...”

  “Shut up. Please. Just shut up.”

  Trevor held his brother tight as the enemy blotted out the sun. When it passed over them, Trevor caught a glimpse of the red scorpion on its belly. So the reports were true.

  Up close, the cruiser was so much bigger. Even worse: Longer. It didn’t seem to end. And it was about to crash. Would it bury them alive? Had his carelessness killed them both?

  More explosions. Debris smashed onto and around the bridge in fiery chunks. The earth fractured and vibrated at the crash.

  Small detonations followed and then a few hopeful seconds of bliss. They were alive. They made it.

  Two more warships approached, both flying well above the glass towers. Trevor recognized them: UNF warships like the one Father served on.

  The warships delivered pinpoint green blasts that splintered the brief midday peace.

  “Where’s Fritz?” Connor asked, snaking out of Trevor’s grasp.

  “I hear him. He’s OK.”

  Indeed, the dog never stopped barking. He competed against the roar of the UNF’s aerial barrage.

  “Give me your hand, Connor.”

  “No. Got to find Fritz.”

  The boy tried to escape but lost his balance and slid into the edge of the stream. Trevor raised his legs and pushed off. He joined Connor in the water before the brat sank.

  “Help me, Trevor. I can’t swim.”

  “Hold tight. I’m here.”

  This time Connor obeyed without hesitation. Had the dire nature of the moment finally hit him? He burrowed his way inside big brother’s arms as Trevor righted himself and found the bottom. The water reached his rib cage, but the current was weak.

  “What now, Trevor?”

  “Don’t move. We’ll stay right here. It’s safest.”

  He hoped.

  To the west, two-man fighter craft descended from the warships. To the east, Trevor saw smoke, fire, and a mountainous beast lying prone on the plaza. Its massive engine array glowed yellow.

  “I’m sorry I ran away, Trevor. I’m sorry. I don’t hate you.”

  “Never thought you did, Connor. Just hang tight. OK?”

  Soldiers in full body armor approached from both directions. Energy weapons as big as arms fired wide strips of laser bolts.

  Debris continued to fall in flaming ribbons. Glass, metal, fixtures, wood furniture. Fritz stopped barking.

  Trevor ordered himself not to cry. If they somehow survived this battle, he dreaded seeing what remained of their little world.

  2

  23 years later

  Amity Station, Collectorate Unified System

  208 light-years from Earth

  THE VOICE FROM BEHIND needed to go away. Trevor had nothing against the woman; she was following orders. Her timing, however, was shit.

  Trevor stared at his pom’s M-chain. Why didn’t Ana respond from her tablet? Even in her most brittle state, she loved to play around with glyphs and symbols in lieu of a coherent message. She knew Daddy wouldn’t mind.

  The girl didn’t come out of her room before he left. Trevor thought she’d have calmed down by now – at the very least, Effie would set their daughter straight.

  “First Deputy, sir,” the annoying voice continued from behind. “Ready when you are.”

  Trevor cursed under his breath. He closed the pom and tucked it in his uniform’s jacket. Give her time. That’s what Effie said after last night’s blowout. What choice did he have?

  “Apologies,” he swung about. “Family matters.”

  The Hokki woman – a full foot shorter, hair in a tight ball, eyes black as the space between stars – crimped a polite smile.

  “We’re all cursed with one, sir. It can be a struggle.” She extended her hand. “Sec Deputy Hoshi Oda.”