Planet Eaters (Galaxy Mavericks Book 8) Page 14

  “It’s been a pleasure, gentlepeople, but it’s about time we got out of here,” he said.

  Slowly, the trio backed out of the bridge.

  The emperor seethed, clenching his fists.

  “You will not leave!” he roared. The tentacles on his back reared up and extended, darting toward them.

  Florian aimed and shot one of the tentacles. The impact made the emperor recoil and fall into a dashboard.

  “See ya,” Florian said.

  They backed out of the bridge and made their way into the airlock, with Florian carefully aiming the rifle at every soldier they passed.

  “Suit up,” Florian said.

  Hux and Tatiana crawled into spacesuits. Then Florian passed the gun to Hux who fired a warning shot. Florian changed into his spacesuit.

  “What good is that going to do you?” Jax asked. The emperor stood next to her, and a pool of metallic liquid dripped on the floor from where Florian shot his tentacle. “The bay doors are broken. You’re not getting off the ship.”

  “Who said anything about getting off the ship, my good woman?” Florian asked.

  Jax’s eyes widened.

  Then Florian wiggled his fingers at her.

  “Toodles.”

  The ship rocked again. The ceiling crumpled and all the soldiers screamed.

  Jax looked up just as a ceiling bar struck her and the emperor on the head.

  The Planet Eaters descended upon the ship, breaking it apart and depressurizing it in an instant. Jax, the emperor, and the soldiers blacked out from the loss of oxygen.

  Florian, Hux and Tatiana blew through the airlock as if carried by a furious wind.

  Sparks and fire flew everywhere.

  Florian breathed in. And out.

  He remained calm.

  He, Tatiana and Hux held hands, an unbreakable trinity.

  As the Planet Eaters crushed and swallowed the ship, they allowed themselves to be sucked into the aliens’ jaws, closing their eyes as they plunged ever downward.

  35

  Michiko guided the escape pod toward the ground where Clark hovered.

  The radio in the escape pod beeped.

  “Miss Lins, this is Beauregard.”

  “Can’t talk right now,” Michiko said.

  “You’re letting your emotions get the best of you,” Beauregard said. “You’re putting yourself in danger and we may not be able to save you.”

  “It is what it is.”

  “Miss Lins,” Beauregard said. “I highly suggest that you turn around and come back to the Horizon. Please. This is your final warning.”

  “I told you that this is my fault,” she said, “and I have to fix it.”

  “You’re not being logical,” Beauregard said.

  “Sometimes logic isn’t enough,” Michiko said. “Sometimes you have to do what’s right.”

  She disconnected the radio and prepared the pod for landing. She brought it down softly on what was left of the medical facility’s manicured lawn.

  She climbed out of the pod, stumbling into the grass.

  Then she saw Clark floating just a few yards away, merged with the other Planet Eater, swirling silently with his eye closed.

  A warm wind blew, blowing thick dust into her face.

  The smell of char hung heavy in the air.

  A giant crater loomed ahead—the remains of the medical facility. As she neared, the entire building was gone, even the foundation. Only broken earth remained.

  Her palms sweated.

  Her legs trembled as she tried to figure out what to say.

  She stopped a dozen feet away from Clark for fear of getting too close.

  “Clark,” she said quietly.

  Clark did not respond.

  “You betrayed me,” she said. “You betrayed all of us. And now you’ve done the inexcusable.”

  The wind blew again, and blaring sirens filled the air.

  “They’re coming for you,” she said. “And I can’t protect you. But it’s not too late. I know what you’ve done. And I know that wherever all of this stuff you ate just went, it still exists.”

  She stepped forward.

  “Give it back,” she said.

  Clark swirled quietly.

  “I said give back!” Michiko cried, stomping the ground. “Give it back, now!”

  She stepped closer, almost close enough to touch him. She pulled out her phone and activated the Crystalith app and played the most dissonant chord she could on the keyboard.

  “Give it back!” she shouted in an angry tone. “Give it back, give it back, give it back, GIVE IT BACK!”

  She stomped, and screamed and yelled and banged on the keyboard.

  “NOW!” she screamed. “I’m serious!”

  She stopped, huffing and puffing.

  Still, Clark did nothing.

  She threw her phone to the ground.

  “It’s not fair,” she said. “It’s not fair what you’ve done to me. I trusted you. And I’m so disappointed.”

  And then…

  Clark opened his eye.

  Michiko stepped back.

  The eye drooped as if sad. Then it squinted.

  Clark separated from the other Planet Eater, who remained sleeping.

  He wavered back and forth, his eye blinking as if it were having a seizure.

  “Clark?” she asked.

  Clark burped. A wave of filth and stench hit Michiko’s nostrils and she wanted to vomit.

  Clark opened his mouth, and his jaws billowed. Then he vomited.

  Michiko flew backwards in a torrent of concrete, wood, and debris.

  HGRWAM…

  HGRWAM!

  Michiko shielded her face and she landed on her back.

  She was dizzy and couldn’t stand. She sat up. She had been blown several hundred feet, and between her and Clark was a trail of debris.

  “What the?”

  The other Planet Eater opened its eye, and seeing the debris, it roared.

  MAWRGH!

  It opened its mouth and nipped at Clark.

  Clark nipped back, and the two aliens clashed, becoming a single shadow as they circled the area.

  MAWRGH!

  Clark formed a giant tentacle and struck the other alien. The other alien did the same.

  They were fighting.

  Michiko tried to stand, but she couldn’t.

  “Clark, be careful,” she said, weakly.

  Clark crashed into the other alien, and the two fell into the giant crater, descending toward its depths.

  Michiko stumbled but tripped over a chunk of steel. She skinned her knee. She grabbed it and cried out in pain.

  The two aliens roared and rocketed out of the crater, smashing and clashing into each other. Clark’s eye narrowed angrily as he attacked.

  Michiko fell forward.

  Then she felt something around her waist.

  A rope.

  Something yanked her up. Soon, she was in the air, flying high over the ground.

  The GGC Horizon. It flew above, with its bay doors open.

  Will was there, with a rope on his arm.

  “Yeehaw!” he cried. “Come on up, little doggie!”

  “No, stop!” Michiko cried.

  But she was helpless as Will pulled her into the airlock and shut the bay doors.

  She stumbled toward the porthole windows in the airlock, watching Clark as the Horizon flew toward the upper atmosphere.

  The other alien struck, and Clark fell to the ground.

  Michiko yelled.

  Clark looked up at the ship, his eye blinking sympathetically. He vomited again, spewing out more debris. He covered the ground with it until the entire area was full of rubble.

  The other Planet Eater roared, as if angry with Clark, and it opened its jaws wide and swallowed him.

  Then a brilliant white flash spread across the area, blinding her.

  Her heart sank.

  The two aliens were gone.

  36

>   “Ship’s shield and fuel levels are dangerously low. Please find the nearest planet and seek assistance as soon as possible.”

  The corsair’s computer beeped and repeated the warning for the fifth time.

  Grayson clucked his tongue.

  “I’d say we’re just about screwed,” he said. “Pull us out of hyperspace. We’re gonna have to call a tow.”

  Eddie deactivated the hyper core and the ship exited hyperspace.

  “Cut the engine,” Grayson said. “We need to conserve power.”

  His phone rang.

  It was Devika.

  He frowned.

  “You picked a fantastic time to return my calls,” he said.

  “Grayson, are you okay?”

  “We’re swell. Just about died, but I’ll spare you the details.”

  “We had a situation,” Devika said. “Clark just devoured the medical facility.”

  “Yeah, well we just saw the Planet Eaters devour the entire planet of Defestus. Wait—about what time did this happen?”

  “A few minutes ago,” Devika said.

  “The Planet Eaters just ate Defestus a few minutes ago,” Grayson said. “That’s a funny coincidence.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence at all. Maybe they’re connected somehow. Where are you?”

  “We took a bad hit,” Grayson said. “From what I can tell, we’re somewhere in the short arm, and we’re gonna have to call a tow.”

  “We’ll come pick you up,” Devika said. “Did you find Florian?”

  “We found him, all right,” Grayson said. “And it looks like he’s shacking up with the emperor of the Zachary Galaxy.”

  Devika was silent.

  “What’s wrong?” Grayson asked.

  “Florian killed Miloschenko,” Devika said. “If he’s working with the emperor, he’s deceiving him. It’s not good.”

  “Yeah,” Grayson said. “This Florian guy is becoming a major headache.”

  “Be safe,” Devika said. “We’re on our way.”

  She disconnected.

  Grayson radioed for a tow.

  Eddie sighed. “So I guess we wait.”

  Grayson stretched, leaned back in his chair and closed his tired eyes.

  “Yeah, we wait.”

  37

  In the negative netherscape of the Planet Eaters, Florian floated down toward broken soil.

  He touched down, landing on his knees.

  In the sky, the Planet Eater mouths sucked ravenously. Debris rained down to the ground, striking it forcefully and causing tremors.

  Tatiana and Hux landed next to him.

  Ahead, the Zachary ship crashed to the ground violently, crumpled up like origami.

  Florian took off his helmet and took in a breath of fresh air.

  “Aaah,” he said. “That’s the smell of freedom.”

  The three gray, ink figures appeared in front of him, tall and menacing. Florian pulled out his app to translate.

  “Thanks for the help,” he said. “I was in some real trouble there.”

  Man with the dark heart, do you understand now what it takes to walk the path of darkness?

  “Last I checked, I was already on that path,” Florian said. “And I’m too fucking far to go back now. Did you keep your end of the bargain?”

  The figures walked forward and motioned for him to follow.

  They followed.

  High in the sky above, Defestus hovered, devoid of its atmosphere. The Planet Eaters swarmed it like cockroaches, and their frenzy was so loud Florian could hardly hear himself think. Meanwhile, bits of sand and rock fell from the planet, crashing onto the barren netherscape that they walked across.

  As they walked, a ship appeared in the distance. It was intact, though the walls were caved in.

  There was a silhouette of a man lying on the ground. He wasn’t moving.

  As they neared, Florian clapped slowly.

  “Bravo,” he said, grinning. “It’s about time I got something out of this deal.”

  The figures gestured to the man.

  Man with the dark heart, we have much work to do.

  Florian stood over him.

  Smoke lie on the ground with his face against the soil.

  Florian touched Smoke’s hip with his boot.

  “Wakey wakey,” he said.

  Smoke groaned and rolled over. The cyborg did not open his eyes.

  “This is the beginning of a great relationship,” Florian said. “I can just feel it.”

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  Author's Note

  I'm eight books in, and I'm amazed how I still have something to say in these Author’s Notes!

  There aren't any music references in this novel.

  There also aren't any other references.

  Planet Eaters is about the Galaxy Mavericks coming together, learning how to work as a team. It's about their personalities meshing together, their pasts converging with the present, all while the future hangs in the balance.

  It's the beginning of what I hope will be a satisfying cap to the series.

  Because it's not enough to have seven character books and then just walk away.

  I can't wait to see where this series ends.

  Been Thinking

  I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be an author.

  About every ten books or so, I have this existential crisis.

  What am I doing with my life?

  Am I making the right decisions?

  I always evaluate my personal, professional, and writing lives.

  I'll confess that I don't always know the answers with my personal and professional lives. The answers just aren't clear, but I trust my intuition. I've done okay for myself so far.

  But the writing life—I always invariably come to the same conclusion every time, usually within a few minutes of deep thinking.

  And that conclusion is that writing books is the calling I have always looked for.

  It's the calling that some people search their whole lives and never find.

  It’s so amazingly clear for me.

  When other kids in high school were trying to figure out if they wanted to be lawyers or doctors or physical therapists or whatever people do with their lives, I knew that I wanted to create.

  I didn't care what it was. I wanted to make stuff, send it out into the world, and if I was lucky, maybe change a few peoples’ lives and inspire them to create beautiful stuff of their own.

  Most people have always thought I was a little weird. After all, what's sexy about sitting in a chair and making stuff up?

  You have to understand, when I was in college, the 2008 financial crisis in the United States was happening.

  Nothing was certain.

  And if you wanted to go into the arts where no one was making money, well…

  In the eyes of a philistine, that would be foolish.

  Of course, I'm no philistine, folks. But I needed money like everyone else.

  But I stayed true to myself. I got a job, and it was a crappy job. I wrote poetry in the morning and at night. It was rough, but I did it.

  When I made the transition to novels, I questioned myself.

  I remember it like yesterday. It was a rainy night in November. I was living in a studio apartment with my wife barely big enough for one person. I was writing my first novel. And boy, it was bad. I hit a rough spot, one that would ultimately prove too difficult for a young writer to overcome.

  The novel died that night.

  Not because I gave up.

  But because I knew I needed to go in a different direction. There was another novel to be written. And that novel really scared me, but I decided right then and there that the scariest thing I fear is the thing that I always need to be writing.

  I asked myself if I really wanted to do this.

  Of course I did!

  My answer to myself then was the same answer to myself now.

  I want to create the best science ficti
on and fantasy catalogue in the history of publishing.

  I'm not saying that arrogantly. Trust me. If I never get there, it's totally okay.

  But I have minimized my ego, and I don't make creative decisions based on things like market trends or reader expectations.

  I make my decisions based on what scares me, what drives me, what I want to learn. And then I go to market like a pro.

  And while I haven't developed the author income that many other authors in my generation have, I have a big, vast portfolio that will be a wonderful place for my next true fan to explore.

  That's why I do this.

  For myself, and for the people that get me.

  It fulfills me in a way I can't describe.

  Want to know another confession?

  Sometimes the author life makes me sad.

  I wake up at five thirty every morning, no weekends off. I write for three hours and then go to work. Then I come home, spend time with my family, and before going to bed, I write for another hour or two.

  I pour my heart and soul into a book, and I have the time of my life.

  And then, sometimes, I publish it and it doesn't sell. Or readers don't want it.

  That's very sad. And I hope that gives you some perspective to the thousands of authors out there who work as hard as I do.

  For me there's always a silver lining.

  It's that I have such an amazing life where I can even do this in the first place.

  I'm so lucky.

  Maybe one day in the future I'll be more successful than I am, and I'll be able to look back on this author's note fondly.

  Or maybe not.

  And that's ok.

  Because I'm fortunate to be able to do this.

  It's times like this, when I'm nearing the end of a series, when I'm in ultra-deep reflection, that I realize that my choice to become an author was absolutely the right path for me.

  And my future couldn’t be clearer.

  So thanks for being a part of this.

  Onward to Book 9. It's going to get really fun from here on out.

  Turn the page to read a sample of Horizon Down, available in stores now.

  About Michael La Ronn

  Science fiction and fantasy on the wild side!