“Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once.”

Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

My new space fantasy series, Star Legend, begins just after Christmas 2020 with book one, The Valiant. It’s a mashup of British mythology and space opera, which I hope you’ll love. I’ll be publishing snippets every Saturday until the book goes live.

Chapter One

The distress signal was impossible, yet there it was: a flashing pinprick of red on the console screen, and steady beeps—three short, three long, three short—from the comm officer’s headset. It was an ancient code, yet the ship’s computer had recognized it and flagged it for immediate attention.

Major Wright gazed down at the enigmatic dot and passed the headset back to its owner.

“Where is it coming from?” he asked again, leaning closer to peer at the mountainous topography of the region.

“Nantgarw-y-garth,” Corporal Singh repeated patiently. “West Britannic Isles.”

“Nantgarw… Where the hell’s that? It looks like the arse end of nowhere. Why would we have anyone there?”

The corporal didn’t answer, no doubt guessing the question was rhetorical. “I didn’t know if I should alert the brigadier, sir,” he said. “Only…”

Singh didn’t need to say any more. He hadn’t wanted to wake Colbourn in the middle of the quiet shift. Smart choice.

Wright slammed one hand against the console and straightened up. A few of the officers on the Valiant’s bridge looked his way. He remembered he was barefoot and wearing crumpled standard issue pajama bottoms. He began to fasten the uniform shirt he’d pulled on after Singh had commed him.

“Might be a covert mission,” he murmured.

“Yes, but…” Singh ventured.

“What?”

“West BI? I thought the place was entirely EAC now, along with the rest of the country.”

“It is,” replied Wright. “Has been for a couple of years.”

The European Democracy’s epicenter, Berline, had fallen to the Earth Awakening Crusade a decade previously, and the organization had pushed steadily westward, breaking down civilization as it went, eventually occupying the entire Britannic Isles. Wright had fought in some of the battles for his homeland, earning promotions, scars, and memories he would never forget.

“But,” he added, “if they are covert operatives, why aren’t they alerting SIS? Why send out a general distress?” He’d heard of resistance groups that were fighting on in some areas, but he couldn’t see why any of them would broadcast a code that hadn’t been used for centuries.

The two men regarded the puzzling blip.

Singh coughed. “If it is a genuine distress signal…”

“Yes, yes, all right,” said the major testily, tiredness making him irritable. “I don’t need you to inform me of the urgency of the situation, corporal.” He loved his job, but a good night’s sleep came a close second place in his heart. He rubbed his beard shadow, and then tried, absent-mindedly, to smooth down the tuft of hair that stuck up from the crown of his head. He was unsuccessful, as always.

“There’s nothing for it,” he said. “I’ll have to tell the brigadier.”

“Rather you than me, sir.”

***

Wright had failed to raise his superior officer via her ear comm, and she had refused an implant, so he had no choice except to wake her in person. By the time he reached Colbourn’s quarters, he had finished fastening his shirt and had tucked it into his pajamas. He thumbed the door buzzer and leaned on the bulkhead, propped on his forearm, as he waited for a response. When none came, he pressed again, long and hard.

“Goddammit!” growled a voice over the intercom. “Someone had better be dying.”

“It’s Wright, ma’am. Something’s come up that requires your immediate attention.”

The intercom was silent, then, “Well, what kind of something?!”

“A distress call, only…”

Suddenly, the cabin door slid back, and an older woman’s bony head thrust through the gap. Her eyes were narrowed, angry, and piercing.

“Only what?” Brigadier Colbourn asked, between clenched teeth.

Wright knew he wasn’t receiving the full potential force of her ire, that she tolerated him better than others, yet he still took half a step backward before explaining about the incongruous signal.

“West BI?” asked Colbourn. “What the…?” Scowling, she said, “Hold on.”

She withdrew into the darkness of her quarters. Seconds later she re-emerged, wrapping a gray bathrobe over her sleep suit.

As she marched down the passageway, he kept pace by her side and laid out the details of the situation.

Age and tiredness showed in the lines of the brigadier’s face, and her white hair was cropped close to her scalp, making her head look positively skeletal. He always thought of her as an old war horse who deserved to have been put out to pasture years ago. But she never spoke of retirement. Like him, service was in her blood, and she would probably die with her boots on.

When he finished updating her, the brigadier slipped in her ear comm and began barking orders. One of the Valiant’s companion corvettes, HMSS Daisy, was to be prepped for a mission. The BA’s corvettes were their only warships capable of space-to-surface travel.

Turning her head sharply toward the major, Colbourn said, “I want you to assemble a rescue task force.”

After a beat, he asked, “We’re going in?”

“Of course we’re going in,” the brigadier spat. “Do you think we should leave them there? It’s our distress code they’re sending. Those are our people. The only problem is, we don’t have time to arrange a stealth op. We’ll have to get in and out fast, before the EAC have time to respond.”

“But what if they aren’t our people? It could be an EAC trap.”

“Then it’s a damned good one,” Colbourn replied. “They must know we’d never abandon our own.”

The brigadier strode through the door to the bridge. Every back in the place became bolt upright, and all eyes became intent on their screens.

“Singh,” Colbourn snapped as she sat down. “Report on the origin site of the distress signal.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s called Nantgarw-y-garth—”

“I don’t give a shit what it’s called. Wright’s already told me it’s in the back of beyond. I want to know terrain, population, latest intel, if we have any. You know what I need. Do I have to spell it out to you in words of one syllable?”

“Yes, ma’am. S-sorry, ma’am. I do have some information…” His voice petered out under the intensity of her glare, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“Dammit, man. Speak!”

“It’s mountainous,” Singh blurted. “Highest elevation five hundred and fifty meters. Latest population estimate, er, zero point three people per hectare. No known military installations. Scan data doesn’t indicate any evidence of armaments either.” He rattled off the local temperature and weather conditions, which were wintry. “I still haven’t established contact with the signal originator.”

“Better. Wright, where are you with assembling the task force?”

“Nearly there. I’ve picked twenty of the best from the platoon aboard the Daisy.”

“Good. You’re leading the mission?”

“I was planning to.”

The brigadier’s stern expression grew pensive, and she didn’t answer immediately.

The situation troubled Wright, too. No one in the Britannic Alliance would send a distress call from enemy territory unless they were in imminent peril. Even then, they might choose to fight it out rather than endanger the lives of their rescuers. This was going to be a high-risk expedition. They had almost no knowledge of what the rescue team might expect, and they would be under extreme time pressure.

He waited for Colbourn’s decision.

Briefly making eye contact with him, she gave him a curt nod, adding, “I’ll speak to SIS while you’re en route and update you about anything pertinent.”

Her words weren’t particularly reassuring. If the individuals requesting rescue did have something to do with the Secret Intelligence Service, that didn’t mean SIS would tell them anything relevant or helpful. In Wright’s experience, the government department frequently operated as if it were independent, with interests and aims wholly distinct from those of the Britannic Alliance.

Yet, despite his many reservations, at the end of the day, Colbourn was right: if there was a chance it was the BA’s people calling for help, they could not ignore them.

“I’ll head over to the Daisy,” he said.

Colbourn turned to speak to Singh again.

I hope you enjoyed part one of The Valiant. Be sure to check back next Saturday for part two.