Blood Sabers Read online

  Born in the post war era of 1947 and raised in the farm country of upstate New York, MF Burbaugh saw ground level life and death.

  In school, all the way into college he was an avid reader which put him in trouble as often as not. He had already read required reading books assigned as many as several years before and refused to reread them.

  From sixth grade on the requirement to read and report on a book a month again found him at odds. Seems DC Comics and Playboy were not considered valid for book reports so he made them up. Author, title, and storyline, from scratch, thus began his career as a storyteller.

  Joining the Army in 1966 and spending almost two years in Vietnam, he added to his grounding of reality, a reality his friends back home would never understand. He wrote his first novella there on toilet tissue (not the soft fluffy stuff we use today) and after 21 years in the Army, 2 children, three grandchildren and two great grandchildren, he now resides with his wife of forty-three years in El Paso, Texas.

  He writes mostly in the sci-fi/fantasy genres.

  IFWG Publishing Titles

  by M F Burbaugh

  Circle of Seven

  The Bounty Hunter

  We Were Legends (First Book of We Were Legends)

  Blood Sabers (Second Book of We Were Legends)

  Camelot 2 (Third Book of We Were Legends - out 2018)

  Book 2 of We Were Legends

  Blood Sabers

  by

  M F Burbaugh

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters portrayed herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places, events or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author do not necessarily represent the opinions of the publisher.

  Blood Sabers

  MF Burbaugh

  ISBN: 978-1-925148-09-1

  Copyright MF Burbaugh 2013

  Published by IFWG Publishing at Smashwords

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  IFWG Publishing International

  ifwgpublishing.com

  To my Wife of 43 years,

  how she has put up with me that long is a mystery.

  Prologue

  Legends as ofttimes recounted, deal with characters called gods, or ghosts or humans.

  The gods are various. There is the Supreme Father, Creator of the entire universe who made six Firsts. One each day, and rested on the seventh day. Three males and three females. They were to populate the universe to strict guidelines, which they did not follow. They created souls, good and bad, and male and female, but to their image, the Father allowed those souls to recycle until they felt they were complete when they would go unto him. Some souls were trapped and others destroyed or ‘shredded’. He also had the Firsts play grand music he might listen to during his toils. His basic approach was hands off. Only through trials and tribulations could the souls develop to fulfillment, so he seldom interfered, though he felt their pain and suffering as any parent might. He took over soul creation and it is thought made whole solar systems complete with life and young souls. It is believed his new mate, the God Mother, tends to interfere a bit more than he did, which he allows.

  ~~~

  The cast of universal soldiers:

  Jake Spoonbill, NASA pilot turned King and Savior of the dying tribe. Forever tormented with wanting but one wife, Aawasa, yet she continually adds more. He also knows he alone is the soul chased by Linda, the Bronze Goddess. He and Linda may, or may not, be the parents of the God Mother. The Twin Swords of Power continually play a cruel joke on him. He has to but kiss a girl and she will willingly allow and desire that he give her a child and his wives allow it, even encourage it at times, which torments him even more. He is given the title of leader of his little army, though he has little control over what they do. He never knows if he is in a fantasy heaven or devil-spawned hell.

  Rodel, originally the name of a NASA ship called Ro-Del, which stood for Robot Delinquent. A micro-programmed AI unit made from a ‘ghost’ essence captured in a biochip, but turns out has other features including humor and love.

  Aawasa, first wife. True commander of Jake’s army of wives, a very pale blue skinned, black eyed, beautiful Amazon warrior. Creature of care, understanding, and love. Deadly with any bow. Red Demon with a blade. Guiding force of all those in her charge. Seer of souls and gift of future sight.

  Katawasa, second wife. Blue skinned, black eyed with a slight blue ring, beautiful Amazon warrior. Creature of fun yet deadly with a bow. Blue Demon with a blade. Loves a good fight almost as much as good sex, but always tormented by the deaths of so many. When she goes death lust someone is going to die.

  Queastra, third wife. Black skinned, golden haired, green-eyed aboriginal beauty. Gift of godlike reflexes. Deadly with a bow. White demon with a blade. Tormented by childhood tortures she can’t really remember. Warped sense of humor. Gave her life to try to relieve the suffering of another.

  Linda, fourth and fifth wife. Bronze Goddess or sometimes trapped as a beautiful human. A creature created by a godlike entity to be his sexual pleasure slave. Golden/white hair, bronze skin, breasts that always bounce in perfect unison. Hips designed to match. Her body was to make even gods drool with anticipated delights. She refused her Creator and suffered eternal torments while chasing but one soul she loved. No other. Potty mouthed and vindictive at times, yet with a warped humor. She battled her Creator and his jealous wife to try to win her freedom. She also became the vessel of that which the Father of the universe wanted, none could make, and he dared not ask for, a mate. Her Twin Swords of Power are deadly creations with magical powers. Some not wanted, others always gone when needed most.

  Major supporting characters:

  Latwasa, a blue skinned Amazon warrior with an extraordinary gift for forge skill. Believed to be the cycled soul of Brigid of Kildara, a legendary female sword-smith and only successful maker of the Power weapons used by the gods, and occasionally given to mortals. Her Samurai 10,15, and 20 fold sets are legends unto themselves for their beauty and deadly, almost unbreakable blades.

  The Chief, a Blue Skinned Amazon, chief of tribe. Unknown age. Originally doomed by the Creators’ wife to watch her tribe slowly die despite all she tried to save it.

  The General, a living, breathing Conan with blue skin. As close to being the real leader of all the Amazons as one can get, yet willingly sits in the shadows of others, sometimes just to torment them.

  Up, Up, and Away

  New Earth Colony Command Center, a small shack stuffed with com gear and computers. One hundred and sixty years after the hulk of Jake’s old NASA Explorer ship arrived back on Earth.

  “Captain, your only mission is to find the rare elements on that list and get back here ASAP. Are we clear?”

  I always thought General Paddock was perfectly clear. His big bushy silver eyebrows seemed so out of place plastered above his beady little brown eyes, burning holes through you, while his big square chin stuck out there daring you to take a poke at it. I knew if I ever did, my fist would just bounce off. But what do I know? I’m just the XO.

  “Perfectly,” my wife of two whole weeks replied.

  “Charlotte, the small anti-ship missiles don’t do a damn thing against them, been tried. Keep the long range scanner manned 24/7 and at the first sign, run. We have already lost six ships—bring this one back!” I’d met his type on Earth. Pompous, arrogant, and uncaring, unless it was his butt was on the line.

  “What if we can’t get away?” our engineering officer, Sylvia Collins, a
sked. One of the few still alive. She always made my heart flutter when I saw her. Her radiant black hair, her perfect body, her deep black pools for eyes…

  “Then, just like the others, you will die. Until someone can secure those elements and make that damn missile they designed, we have no chance at all. You saw them. The bastards killed the crew of Explorer One and all the rest; don’t let them do it to you. You’re number seven; they say it is a lucky number. Make it a lucky number! If not, we have one more shot, then this entire colony dies.” Emotion from him? Oh, his butt is on the line too. Scared me a second.

  As they discussed details I stood reflecting on our situation. We came to this planet a few years ago, our Eden. Leaving Earth and all its troubles behind. All seemed perfect, then we ran across them. An unknown alien race coming to us from an unknown sector of our galaxy, or perhaps even another one. We sent our ship to greet them. As our whole planet watched, the large space-suited aliens took out a saw and cut off the crew’s heads, one at a time, all six of them.

  Our President was running for re-election and Paddock talked him into going to meet the aliens, a great political victory over his opponents. Well, now there was just Paddock until the new elections. I know we all still have nightmares from those damn screams. Except maybe him.

  General Paddock had charge of ground control that day. He was appointed to his position by the President and wasn’t really a general. He was an ex-Earth Spacer captain that took the title General when appointed to the Space Exploration and Defense post of our newly forming government. We had no military, no defense, no nothing really. The general personally sent the order to Explorer One’s computer, and as our world watched, it accelerated, rammed into, and then exploded in, the huge ship belonging to the aliens, destroying them. We now call them Head Hunters.

  I was pulled back to reality as my wife, as competent a pilot and commander as you could want, told the general, “I’m not into those sciences, but why can’t we just use the Heavy Hydrogen, umm, tritium we use in our F/F reactors?”

  “Ask our damn physicists, Charlotte. They both want those elements on that list. Maybe it is the lack of special equipment. We didn’t leave Earth thinking we’d need to battle aliens almost immediately after we set up housekeeping. Now, any real questions? If not, get those items and get back here. That is an order!”

  I almost laughed out loud as she saluted with one middle finger to her eyebrow when he spun away.

  Our little explorers were just that. In the more than 250 years since their inception, NASA had done absolutely nothing to make them safer than was needed to get us from point a to point b and, if lucky, back again. They did expand them from a one-man ship to a crew of six.

  NASA policy stated no planet was hostile, profiling was forbidden, profit was the name of the game, and that meant we were pretty well unarmed. In the earliest days of exploration some ships had made it back, other humans had been found, and NASA was quietly stuffing its own pockets with wealth while people were out of work.

  It all changed when the now legendary gutted ship was supposed to have been recovered, and the book with its magic formula was found inside. Finally Earth could dump hordes of people into space, relieving the stress of an overburdened industrial system trying to provide the requirements for life to the billions and billions of people we called humanity.

  “Bill and Mary can explain the heavy metals to us. I suspect we will have long periods of boredom to fill,” I said to Charlotte. I wanted to get to space.

  The general came back and handed Mary a sheet of plastic with several star-charts on it. “Earl says these look promising from the data we collected on the way here. Check them first.” He said to Charlotte, “All the location data is in the computer already. Make no reference to where we are, just in case.”

  Earl Brentworth was our only true astrogator; he had a secondary major in geology. He also was not going with us. Bill was our computer tech and our primary self-taught geologist. He was five foot eleven and a half, two and a half inches shorter than me. Brown hair, a couple years older, shifty eyes. Something turned me off about him, never could point to what during the training sessions on Earth. He had the only real spacesuit we would take along called an EVA.

  He and Mary were an item; she was a blond, five eight, well built with pretty hazel eyes, but it was her breasts that attracted the men like flies. Many said they were implants, but I think they were one hundred percent Mary. It just fit her overall physique. She did have the sweetest personality too. She was a chemist and had dabbled in geology. She ran the spectral analyzers and gas and mineral separators. We all were cross-trained in many fields, usually just enough to get you into trouble.

  Four hours later the makeshift launch pad had one of our two huge refillable booster tanks strapped to our little explorer ship. Or should I say our ship was strapped to it? It was twice our size.

  “Launch Control, Explorer Seven is ready for liftoff,” Charlotte said.

  “Roger Seven, take all commands from me.” It was General Paddock—figures.

  I could just see out the right side window. For some reason eleven stories up didn’t sound too far, until you realize you sat on top of a roman candle waiting to be lit and looked at the huge two part tank full of liquid hydrogen and oxygen just waiting to recombine in their explosive mix.

  During pre-launch Charlotte had the main checklist. I did all the panel and switch checks. I had to chuckle as we started the long preflight check sequences and relayed them to ground control. We married just to get this mission. Hubby and wife. She asked me one day at the bar if I wanted a shot at crewing Seven and next day we were on our honeymoon. Maybe love would stop by someday, maybe not, but we got the mission, so who cares? Marriage had long ago been legislated into a meaningless ceremony that served the sole purpose of deciding who received your stuff when you kicked the bucket.

  Charlotte was a dirty redhead, brown eyes, tall as they go, almost five eleven, well built, and three years older than me. She shot her last husband when she caught him cheating. That was a few months ago. I heard Paddock say they might charge her someday, but right now they needed a commander.

  All my checks were a vocal response to physical tests of systems or verification to switch positions as she read the list. If anything on her side went wrong, like the F/F didn’t start, computers failed, or almost anything prior to firing the second stage, we could coast back to the planet. Once it fired we were committed.

  I really had only one job during boost. All I did was sit with my glove resting on the cover of the big red button. If something went wrong during launch I pushed it. Rumor said all it did was fold your seats in half so you could kiss your ass goodbye.

  “Pre-flight checks complete and nominal,” she reported.

  “All systems are go for launch,” Paddock relayed to his one assistant that lit this candle.

  “Explorer Seven, ignition in ten…five, four, ignition start, two, one, ignition confirmed,” he said.

  The shaking started, everything vibrated as tons of liquid shot out our ass and belched into flames that turned the whole area to an inferno. As an eternity ticked by Charlotte confirmed the telemetry Paddock was relaying.

  “+5 and 1800.”

  “Roger,” she replied against the weight of buildings crushing against us.

  “+10 and 8 angles.”

  “Roger.”

  I listened to them as the times and altitudes ticked by.

  “+145 and 62 angles. Confirm first stage fallback?” he asked.

  The rear video feed confirmed the huge booster was falling away.

  I slowly removed my glove from the death button.

  “Confirmed, booster separation. All systems optimal,” Charlotte told him. “Engaging F/F in three, two, one, engaged. Sequencing…sequencing …sequencing…confirmed sequence engaged, all green.” The dread Fission/Fusion reactor had started normally.

  “Roger, second stage at your command, see you when you get back.
”

  We wouldn’t talk again until our return. All communications and local transmissions had been shut down in a hope of preventing the HH, or Head Hunters, from finding our helpless planet.

  As the Fission/Fusion reactor came active and the energy to mass converters were brought on line, we fired our second stage and we were now totally on our own as it fell away.

  The routines of space get boring quickly. Day after day slipped by as we chose routes, did fly-by analyses of about everything we ran into and found little of what we needed. We spiraled our search map, ever moving outwards. All systems functioned normally. Our crew was more than adequate for this mission. On duty, you ran scans, wrote reports, and looked busy. Off duty, Charlotte and I had our little privacy cubical with its curtains and we did what space couples do for fun and exercise.

  Gilbert and Sylvia were our final couple. Sylvia and I had been hooked up twice before; she broke it off both times without reason. I still loved her, and it hurt, but such is life. She hooked to Gilbert for the same reason I did Charlotte, a shot at this mission. What many believed was our one last hurrah. She was also a competent pilot, analytical engineer, and had dabbled in astrogation and space communications. She had graduated with me on Earth. I was fourth, she was third. We were both just turning twenty-three.

  Gilbert was the shrink, doctor, and physical trainer; he also filled in as navigator and robot repair. Until we started hooking couples into crews there were a lot of problems, now you were picked only if you appeared to be a stable couple. Love was not required, and was actually frowned on. Except possibly Mary and Bill. I don’t think love was a problem.