Triton: The Descendants War Book 1

Triton
The Descendants War
Book 1


John Walker


Copyright © 2020 John Walker
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 noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.


DISCLAIMER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This story contains explicit language and violence.


Blurb
Commander Titus Barnes struggles to save his ship.
War brews on the horizon and the crew of the TCN Triton get caught in the middle. When they answer a distress call from one of their colonies on the edge of their space, they end up outmatched and outgunned by an unknown force. This conflict may well push humanity into a new age…or spell the beginning of the end for their race.
Meanwhile, two archaeologists work to uncover evidence of alien life on a far off planet. As they make what might be the biggest discovery of the human race, their activities trigger an alert, drawing dangerous forces to investigate. Cut off from any quick help and on their own, they must use every trick at their disposal to stay alive.


Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue


Prologue
Alon Dess tossed his jacket over the farmer, slapping him in an effort to put out a blaze. The man’s screams competed with the bombardment going on all around them; a series of explosions as the orbiting invaders rained down hell upon the colony. Smoke and dirt filled the air, with flashes in the clouds offering the only warning before additional strikes pounded the area.
The attack seemed to come without warning. Alon happened to be on patrol, checking the perimeter of the administrative district. Their town had grown considerably though they were still within their first five years.
Militia members tended to only break up drunken brawls between farmers. Even pirates and raiders knew not to bother them. They didn’t have anything worth taking.
This isn’t about theft.
Alon stopped his efforts. The farmer stopped moving and quit making noise. His body went limp. All the tension left. He’d been in a building that had taken a direct hit. Of those inside, he was the only one to stumble out, completely consumed by flames. Alon had tackled him to the ground and batted at him, but chances were good the man had already died.
Other bodies littered the street. Pieces of them, anyway. Those who weren’t so lucky, those who took direct hits from the bombardment had been scattered like breadcrumbs. Few people came out of the buildings after they were hit. Alon heard them shouting at one another, telling them to get inside.
Fear made them sign their own death warrants.
Craters appeared around him, explosions rattling his bones. Alon’s ears rang as he shuffled away. It seemed like a miracle he’d survived as long as he had. Stumbling to his feet, he made his way toward the command center. Fortified walls might withstand a few hits, and their bunker certainly offered some protection.
Too bad none of the civilians thought clearly enough to get there. He seemed to be the only militia soldier on the street trying to help. The fact his peers weren’t around either meant they were rallying or hiding. Could he blame them? Not with everything happening. Few had been trained for such an event.
The worst thing they had to worry about was pirate raids. But someone had thought otherwise by installing the bunker as one of the first buildings in the colony. Rumor suggested it had been there merely to protect the early inhabitants from poor weather or unknown predators. Regardless, it represented a chance for survival.
If I can get there, maybe we can find some help.
He didn’t know who was alive or not. His comm had gone out just after the first blast. At first, he had been listening to Krinden sing badly, and then it started buzzing. By the time he had tapped the earpiece, the first explosion had caught his attention. Just outside the wall, a plume of fire and smoke was rising some fifty feet in the air.
Those are military grade weapons.
The thought came to him as he ran down the street. All the buildings seemed to be on fire. Not one of those in the commercial district had survived the initial attack. I wonder who managed to make it. The command center looked okay. Through the floating smoke and debris, he saw the glistening metal walls… a beacon of hope.
At least for now.
Some of his peers stood outside near the stairs, aiming their weapons outward. As he approached, Alon shouted, waving his hand over his head. He had lost his rifle when he’d brought the burning man to the ground and had forgotten to pick it up. Given the circumstances, he didn’t see what use it would have been anyway.
“Hey!” Alon reached the stairs. “What’re we doing?”
The others were covered in dirt. Some of them were hard to distinguish. He recognized Krinden, though. He stood nearest, wearing a grim expression. He kept his attention outward as he spoke. “We’re in trouble. Dunno who these bastards are. They won’t answer hails. And they’re sending down landing parties right now.”
“What?” Alon looked around. “I have to get another gun!”
“Better get your ass inside then,” Krinden gestured with his head, “you don’t have