The Hidden Prophet: Starship Fairfax Book 2 - The Kuiper Chronicles Page 15

  And screamed.

  To be continued...

  This concludes The Hidden Prophet. Starship Fairfax will continue!

  Author's Notes

  Hi Again Reader,

  Thanks so much for hanging out with me and the Fairfax crew! I had a blast writing this book, and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it.

  If you want to learn more of Darren’s story, you can get a FREE prequel short-story, “The Trials of Io,” by signing up for my mailing list! You’ll learn about future releases and other great deals, too. And if you haven’t already nabbed your free copy of my other short story, “Totaled,” check it out! You’ll get a glimpse of Caspar’s first tour of duty.

  Lastly, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate ratings and reviews, whether you leave them on Amazon, Goodreads, or a blog or social media. I’m a new author, and any feedback I can get will help me with future work.

  There’s much more to come, so be sure to check out my Amazon Author Page or my blog for links to more fun reads, or to join my mailing list.

  Happy reading!

  Best,

  Benjamin Douglas

  Email: benjamindouglasbooks@gmail.com

  Blog: http://benjamindouglasbooks.wordpress.com

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  Turn the page for a FREE PREVIEW of my mailing-list exclusive story, “The Trials of Io!”

  The Trials of Io: Preview

  Darren Jet secured his helmet and checked his vital readings one more time to make sure the suit was working. He was sure something would come loose, or his power pack would fail, or his spatial comp would shut down and he would wander blindly into the path of a rogue meteor. Years of experience with his own luck had taught him to anticipate as much. The last thing he actually expected was to survive the trials whole, unscathed, and victorious. But he had to try. It was the only way to pass into the Arms of the Sons, the most elite training program in the solar system. And the only route to his ultimate destination: to join the Sons of Jupiter.

  “Ready, kid?” The pilot’s voice over the comm was high and choked with fat. He seemed entirely too jolly to be ferrying people around in the radiation zone. Darren glanced at his readings one last time to make sure his own levels were safe. He looked up at the pilot through the window to the cockpit, aware he hadn’t answered. Numbly, he nodded.

  “Could’a fooled me,” the fat man mumbled. “Drop is in thirty, that’s three-zero seconds. Kite secured?”

  A moment of panic. Was it? He turned in a half-circle like a dog after its own tail. Ah, yes. It was secured. He nodded again.

  “Best of luck.” The man’s face soured. “Oh,” he turned. “Almost forgot. Last set of instructions.” He pointed through the window and Darren heard a beep, followed by a snap as a tiny compartment in the wall popped open. Darren ducked down to peer inside and spotted a drive, then snatched it out and plugged it into the data slot on the forearm of his suit. Instructions now? He was about to go into free-fall over one of the most hostile surfaces in the system, and they were amending the mission?

  “My luck,” he grumbled.

  The fat man smiled without it reaching his eyes. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” His hand hovered over the controls. Darren turned his back on him and closed his eyes, focusing on slowing his breath.

  “Two, one. Happy trails, sucker!” The pilot laughed, a vile, throaty sound, and the hatch hissed open. A breeze swept into the cargo hold, just enough to ruffle the pants of Darren’s suit. He opened his eyes and watched the craggy surface flying past tens of meters below.

  No point dragging it out, he thought. He stepped off the edge and dropped into the thin atmosphere of Io.

  There wasn’t much resistance for the kite to sail on, but that was alright. There wasn’t enough gravity to kill him from the fall, either. Just enough to break a leg or two if he landed funny, he reminded himself. He pulled the string. It was soundless, but he felt the gentle tug at his back as the kite expanded and locked into place, an enormous pair of silica-fabric wings hovering over him. His fall slowed and he swooped forward, sucking his teeth as he watched the surface grow closer.

  He was happy not to see any of the brilliant red molten rock anywhere near him. Io suffered from that fascinating planetary malady, volcanism—one of the reasons the Arms of the Sons had chosen it as their proving grounds for recruits. The constant tug of Jupiter kept the moon’s core hot, and eruptions were volatile and unpredictable.

  This led to the second reason for Io to serve as home of the Trials. The surface was covered with razor-sharp crags and edifices, a veritable obstacle course of death. Darren grimaced at the thought. Unfortunately, he could see plenty of that below him now.

  His eyes scanned the horizon but he caught no glimpse of the shuttle he was supposed to find. His mission, along with that of the other recruits, was to survive a journey across the lunar surface to an escape shuttle, and leave Io. If he managed to get off alive, he was in.

  That reminded him. He punched in a few commands on his arm device, and a vid popped up inside his helmet. It was a man sitting behind a dark wooden desk, the banner of the Arms over one shoulder and that of the Sons over the other.

  “Greetings, recruit.” His voice was dry and old, like himself. “And welcome to the Trials. Should you survive, we will soon meet. Should you not, know that your sacrifice for the Sons is not taken lightly.” He paused for effect. Darren kept an eye on the surface. His spatial comp readout said he was gliding a mere fifteen meters above ground.

  “You already know that you and nine other potentials have been dropped on the surface with the goal of finding the shuttle and leaving. I now give you a new, crucial piece of information.” The man leaned forward. “The shuttle will only hold two.”

  Darren waited for him to complete the sentence. Two what? Kuiperian masseurs? If only. His stomach tightened and he cursed under his breath.

  “I’m afraid it’s first-come, first-serve. I can only hope you’ve had the foresight to arm yourself. There are no combat rules. Your mission objective remains unchanged: get out alive. Whichever two of you manage to claim the shuttle and leave the surface will be embraced by the Arms of the Sons. The rest of you…” He smiled tightly. “Your sacrifice is not taken lightly.” The vid flashed off, replaced with an uninterrupted view of the rough terrain.

  Darren cursed. No, he had not had the foresight to arm himself. Neither had he ever killed anyone. This day had just got a lot more interesting.

  … the rest of the story awaits you for free as a thank you for subscribing to my mailing list newsletter. Thank you!