Lineage (Baldwin's Legacy Book 5)

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright © 2020 Nathan Hystad

  Books By Nathan Hystad

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Legacy (Baldwin's Legacy Book 6)

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  Copyright © 2020 Nathan Hystad

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover art: Tom Edwards Design

  Edited by: Scarlett R Algee

  Proofed and Formatted by: BZ Hercules

  Books By Nathan Hystad

  Keep up to date with his new releases by signing up for his Newsletter at www.nathanhystad.com

  Nathan’s books are also available on Audible!

  Baldwin’s Legacy

  Confrontation

  Unification

  Culmination

  Hierarchy

  Lineage

  Legacy

  The Survivors Series

  The Event

  New Threat

  New World

  The Ancients

  The Theos

  Old Enemy

  New Alliance

  The Gatekeepers

  New Horizon

  The Academy

  Old World

  New Discovery

  Old Secrets

  The Deities

  The Manuscript

  Lights Over Cloud Lake

  Red Creek

  Return to Red Creek

  Prologue

  The alarm chimed softly through the office, drawing Brandon’s gaze off his work. “Computer, what tripped the sensors?”

  “Movement in quadrant zero point seven, sir,” the computer’s feminine voice told him.

  “Zero point seven…” Brandon found the referenced region on his console and put his hands behind his head as he watched the feeds. “Damn it.” He kicked away from the desk, rolling across the floor to the transmitter. He quickly pressed the blue button, trying to reach the others. “Guys, we have a code nine.”

  He waited for the response. When none came within a minute, he tapped it again. “Quit messing around. We have a code nine. They’re coming.”

  Still nothing.

  Brandon rose, rubbing sweaty palms on his gray jumpsuit. He saw the patches in his reflection but ignored the symbol that used to mean so much to him. He should have ripped them off by now.

  “Where are they?” he muttered to himself, leaning over his screen. He linked to the camp drones, sending one high above the Martian surface. The camp was spread out below, and he was proud of what they’d accomplished in a decade. Ten years of blood, sweat, and tears. This was their home.

  Brandon tried not to think about the brother he’d left behind, or any of the countless others that had been lost since their escape, but he couldn’t help it. Clark would be so proud of him. But if President Basher discovered them, it was over.

  The camp was spread out across two square kilometers, with seven habitats interconnected by long underground tunnels, and the drone hovered over the first dome. Behind the clear glass was a humid garden, and Brandon smiled at the greenery amongst the red dust and rock. The juxtaposition wasn’t lost on him.

  The next two domes contained the majority of their population: seventy people sleeping in close quarters. It wasn’t ideal, but they’d managed to make do. Brandon slept in his command center most nights, so it didn’t really bother him.

  When the drone hovered over the fifth dome, half a kilometer from the first, his breath caught in his chest. Someone was there. He saw the glint of metal where it shouldn’t be and lowered the drone toward the anomaly. Two of his people were standing outside the habitat, but from this distance, he couldn’t identify them.

  The rover was approaching, and he noticed the gun in one of the colonist’s hands. This wasn’t good. He ran to the edge of the office, ignoring the alarm from the distant ship’s presence. “Computer, has anything landed nearby in the last day?”

  “No detection of orbital breach, sir.”

  “Then how the hell is a rover heading for our camp as we speak?” Brandon asked.

  “That seems unlikely.”

  “Never mind. Send a red alert. We have company. Direct them to the tunnels and make them seal themselves in,” he said, slipping into his EVA.

  “Sir, most of the…”

  “Just do it, computer!” he shouted. He heard the beginnings of her calm message pouring through the console speakers, and he was about to proceed to the airlock when he remembered the gun. Brandon tested his EVA’s functions, and when he had the green light, he jogged behind his desk, using his verbal password to open the black safe. He pulled the modified weapon from its case and pressed the power button on the side. It whined as the bars filled along its barrel.

  Brandon darted from the office, sealing the airlock first, and exited his command center. It was the only building on their colony to not be connected to the others. He’d wanted to have a space far enough from camp to keep watch, and it doubled as a safe zone should trouble come their way. The airlock hatch was built into the sharp cliff of the crater, and he walked out of it, heading for his own rover.

  The solar panels showed he had three quarters of a charge, and he turned the unit on. It had four waist-high tires, with space to carry four comfortably in their EVAs, along with a truck bed to hold supplies. It was empty now, and he clicked the vehicle into drive, sending dust behind him.

  The idea of an alien rover on their planet was difficult to fathom. They had securities in place to prevent this exact thing, but somehow they’d been breached. First, he needed to mitigate any danger, and secondly, he had to ensure this wasn’t repeated.

  The rover was a couple of kilometers from the fifth dome, which they’d dubbed “The Island.” It housed their main facilities: gym, mess hall, kitchens. The dome over was their storage facility, and where they initiated construction on each additional tunnel and structure. Already two more domes were underway, but they were waiting for another supply shipment to arrive. He hoped that was what had set the alarms off. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the path the traders were supposed to take from Earth.

  Brandon slowed as he approached the Island and drove around the far edge, glancing at the sky. It was littered with stars, and his hand settled over the gun sitting on the seat beside him. He wasn’t going to let anyone ruin what they’d created.

  When he was sure he’d be exposed if he continued, Brandon parked the rover, turning it off, and hopped out, his boots landing softly on the surface. The gun felt unusual in his grip for a second, but the memories of the civil war flooded into his mind. His spine went rigid, and he could almost smell the battlefields inside his EVA. “Not n
ow,” he mumbled to himself.

  Hugging the dome, he moved toward its entrance, which faced the expanse of Noachis Terra. Brandon preferred night on Mars. If he closed his eyes while indoors, he could almost pretend he was in a place more habitable, somewhere that the world wasn’t trying to harm him at every bend. This desolate landscape had killed twelve of them over the last decade, and there were days he thought that number was a blessing.

  He stopped when he spotted the other rover, this model unfamiliar. Someone stood in front of it. He pulled free the digital binoculars strapped to his belt and peered through them. Not a someone; a something. Brandon had seen androids like this near the end of the war, but this one looked far more advanced. His silver hands gave him away, and the fact that he didn’t wear an EVA made it even more obvious.

  Brandon assumed the android was speaking to them, linking to their EVA headsets, but he wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation. He continued forward, recognizing his friends. Carl was at the lead, Jun beside him. Brandon hoped her reckless behavior was on pause today. He wished she’d stayed inside.

  They were still a hundred meters from his position, when the android’s transmission relayed into his headset too, and he slowed, trying to make out the choppy words. He stepped closer, finally receiving a clear feed.

  “You do not seem to comprehend my message. You are to stand down and await the arrival of our team. You will be kept alive if you cooperate,” the robot told them with a neutral tone.

  “And you listen here, you bucket of bolts…” Jun started to say, but Carl raised a hand, silencing her.

  “How did you reach the surface?” Carl asked it.

  Brandon noted the gun on the robot’s arm. It was built into its forearm, and the android was likely extremely quick on the draw.

  “That is none of your concern. This colony is hereby unsanctioned by President Gordon Basher on behalf of Earth and its residents. You have been labeled insurgents and will be treated as such,” the android said.

  “Look, we only left to escape his tyranny. We aren’t harming anyone,” Carl pleaded, and the robot stepped closer.

  “You have misspoken of our leader and will be brought to justice.” The bot’s arm lifted, and Brandon made his move. He bounded across the empty space between them, using his years of training to pass the distance in seconds. The android turned to face him, sending a blast. Brandon jumped, using the low gravity to his advantage, and spun in the air, rolling forward as he struck the ground. His weapons tracked on the android, firing twice. The first blast missed the target, but the second struck the android in the leg, damaging its knee.

  Brandon didn’t relent. He kept moving, making himself more difficult to pursue, and shot another volley of blasts, this time striking the robot a few more times.

  “You will regret this, insurgents.”

  Brandon heard its voice in his headset, but it only fueled his anger. “You came to us, uninvited, interrupting our chance at a fresh start. All we ask is to be free. Send that to your leader.” He pointed the weapon at the robot, who was lying on its back over the red dusty ground. It was dark, but the stars cast a dim glow over the ominous landscape. Their time had come to an end. All this effort. For nothing.

  “You will cease fire and do as order…” Brandon fired from close range as it attempted to sit up, and the blast hit the target on the smooth-featured metallic face. It fell, circuits exposed with flashing arcs, quickly dying.

  Jun raced to his side, and she kicked the metal device with her EVA boot. “Damn it! What are we going to do?” She turned to Brandon, her eyes glowing with the soft green reflection of her helmet’s HUD.

  “We’re going to do what we’ve always done,” Brandon told her.

  Carl walked over, staring at the ruined android. “That’s correct. Prepare to fight.”

  One

  Admiral Thomas Baldwin exited the elevator on the top floor of the Concord’s administrative headquarters in the center of Ridele, the capital city of Nolix. Everything was so pristine: the floors stark white, the walls glass, the lighting glittering and opulent. The style somewhat matched the fleet ships like Constantine, but that was where the parallels ended.

  Thomas had been coming to this office for the last couple of months nearly every day, and he still hadn’t grown used to it. Walking into the space felt like he was a stranger in his own clothing. The sounds were unfamiliar. He heard them now: the shuffling of the breakfast delivery man’s feet, the chatter at the reception desk, the muffled voices speaking behind closed doors as he made his way toward his own office.

  There were currently ten admirals. After the debacle with the Statu had revealed the old regime’s lies and cover-ups, the entire organization had been reset, with Admiral Jalin Benitor, the Callalay leader, at the helm.

  Tom strode past Prime Xune’s office, which usually sat empty unless he was in town. For most of Tom’s first two months, the Prime had been traveling throughout Concord space, meeting with each partner, giving rallying speeches, and encouraging transparency. Tom didn’t have much of a stomach for politics, but even he could see that Xune, previously a Zilph’i advisor, was the right man for the job.

  Xune was bringing the partners together like never before, and his passion was paying off, according to Benitor. The Concord had been in shambles only a year or so ago, but their foundation had been rebuilt, and Tom was proud to be part of the reason.

  He stopped in front of Admiral Benitor’s office, which was right beside Xune’s, and poked his head in, seeing she was scrolling through messages on her projected screen.

  “Any news for me?” he asked. They’d been waiting for a message from Elder Fayle, but she’d been circumspect on the details of what exactly occurred when the Vusuls attacked Driun F49. Reeve Daak had been a witness, along with Ven Ittix, and they’d reported the events.

  “Still no sign of Keen. I want you on this, Thomas. He was your capture, and…” Benitor didn’t even glance up from her screen as she spoke to him.

  “Don’t go there. I wasn’t the one who freed him from the prison. You’d do well to remember that,” he told her.

  She finally broke her stare from her work and met his gaze. “Thomas, just locate him. You know where he’s going. How difficult can this be?”

  “I have eyes on them, but this isn’t going to be as simple as standing in the bushes waiting for Keen to appear at his wife’s house. He’s not that impulsive,” Tom told her.

  “Fine.” She seemed ready to return to her work, but she paused, waving him inside her office. He did so, and the door slid closed behind him. Tom looked past her, at the marvelous view of the city. The panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows gave one of the best angles of Ridele. Even though he didn’t love being in a city, there was no denying it held some sort of magical beauty he rarely saw elsewhere.

  Dozens of large transport vessels moved between the giant sky-piercing towers, carrying the locals from one section of the city to another. Ridele was spread across a hundred kilometers, but this quadrant, the core of Nolix, was the most impressive. Millions of lives, so close to one another. Tom shuddered to think of how much devastation could result from an attack, and blinked away his gawking stare, settling it on Benitor.

  “I hear you’ve been doing some digging, Baldwin,” she whispered.

  “Is that so? Do you see a shovel in my hand?” he asked, and from her reaction, she wasn’t pleased with his flippant remark.

  Benitor rose, her chair squeaking slightly at the reprieve. She turned around, staring at the view like he’d been doing. “This is the pride of the Concord, Tom. Nolix. Do you know why?”

  “The Tekol are a great people. They’re a Founder, and the location was ideal for an information and supply hub. From Nolix, you can reach almost every corner of the Concord within three weeks,” he told her.

  She shook her head. “The Callalay were the first to conceive of this partnership. Aruto is majestic. Have you ever visited it?”

&nbs
p; “No, I haven’t.” Tom had always wanted to, but his grandfather hadn’t brought Tom along when he’d traveled there. “I hear it’s wonderful.” This was the truth.

  “Aruto is. But there’s a reason we haven’t been such a central focus as Earon, Leria, or Nolix.” Benitor turned to face him, and for the first time in his memory, he saw that she was upset. Emotional.

  “What is it?”

  “Stop digging, Thomas. The Ugna were welcomed into the Concord with open arms. The Prime has asked me to ensure that they stay happy, and that was part of the reason you joined our ranks,” she told him.

  He understood this already, but there was something she wasn’t saying. “And you want me to passively sit around, waiting at Fayle’s beck and call?”

  Her misty eyes hardened as she frowned at him. “No. I want you to do your job. Find Keen. While you’re doing that, you’ll be the Founders’ liaison—not to Elder Fayle, but to the Ugna. She respects you, and you have befriended Ven Ittix. You were the perfect man for the job. Don’t make me regret bringing you into the fold.”

  He wanted to counter, to say that he might be the one full of regret. Two months. Already he felt different, changed, from being grounded on a planet. He missed Constantine, both the ship and his grandfather’s AI. He’d bonded with the crew—from Brax to Reeve to Ven, and certainly with Treena Starling. She was the most capable officer he’d ever worked with, and he was positive she would be an astounding captain, but a huge part of him wished he was still behind the helm.

  “You didn’t tell me what happened with Aruto,” he said.

  “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m sending you to meet with President Bertol.” The elderly Callalay admiral smiled, years slipping off her face with the gesture.

  “You are?”

  “That’s right. Elder Fayle will also be going. It was her request,” Benitor said.

  “I thought you said I didn’t work for her,” Tom reminded her.

  “That’s right. You work for me, and for the Prime, but most importantly, for the Concord,” she said, taking her seat once again.