PSIONIC SCI FI: the inevitable fusion of man, machine and the paranormal.
Once again the Dark Ops crew of the Nemesis is called into action.
But this time it’s personal.
When a former team member is kidnapped on a Hive drug mining planet both the Universal Government and the new Corporate Overlord have to respond.
For the first time the Nemesis team and the Corporate Archangels join forces against a psychic vampire, his strange twin brother, and the Oracle menace threatening their universe.
But is anything truly what it seems?
THE FIREBORN CHRONICLES: BOOK II
The Nephilim was a small, sleek, corporate ship about a third the size of the Nemesis. Unlike its dark counterpart, it glowed white when landing, depicting a vision of purity only its polished silver hull could produce. This was an intentional effect; in much the same way, the Nemesis’ equally sleek dark body glimmered in the sun like the blue-black wing of a raven. Interplanetary relations demanded many illusions. They made the job easier.
Michael frowned at his view screen. Landing the Nephilim so close to mine 171’s entrance provided him with a firsthand view of the Magistrate’s failed plan. Even from this distance, in the fading light of evening, he counted as many as twenty bodies still scattered about the grounds. He studied the group of mine reps struggling to appear dignified as they scurried out to meet him.
Shutting down the central control-screen, he grabbed up the three-quarter length ivory robe he had chosen earlier for this mission. This is going to be a hard act to follow. Traumatized people need extra theatrics just to get their attention.
Michael pulled the silken garment on over his also ivory business suit in route to the ship’s main exit. He tapped on the tiny view screen by the door to verify his audience was in place. As they gathered, he reached to the back of his neck and released the tie neatly tethering his long hair. With a quick shake of his head, a disquieting appearance emerged: ethereal blue eyes, flowing robe, unbridled platinum hair.
He punched the door release twice. A bright flash of light erupted behind him as it snapped open. Two steps forward activated specially orchestrated jets of air, setting his hair and robe awhirl. He gauged their thoughts as tendrils of awe-tinged fear overtook them until the meager assembly of miners froze where they stood.
Michael glared down at them and telepathically projected a primal hiss across their consciousnesses. Most of them backed away, a couple remained frozen, and one, struggling for calm, awaited him. This was their spokesman.
“I am Michael, Archangel of The Overlord—Enforcer of his will.” He opened his mind to the thoughts of all present while stepping uncomfortably close to the Magistrate. “What has happened here?”
The Magistrate could not look him in the eye for very long. He fidgeted and pawed at the ground with his highly polished riding boot. “We set a trap for the fiends, but they overpowered us!”
Michael allowed the magistrate to ramble on while gleaning information from the minds of everyone else: I didn’t see him anywhere near the fighting…Fool damn near got us killed…men dropped as they neared — even died…felt my life being sucked away… stole my beautiful warhorse…They wore protective gear….Thank God all they wanted was that girl…She was so weak from the fall…exposure to the Rock…probably won’t survive…never stood a chance…They should be well into the western ice mountains by now…to their Keep…impenetrable range…easily guarded…best money could buy…brothers…the Lords of Deridia…We don’t get paid enough for this…They’re demons…fiends…vampires…. It did not take long.
Michael stared the Magistrate to silence. “I will eliminate the Lords of Deridia. You get back to the mines.” He allowed his gaze to include the rest of the startled group. “Meet your quotas, or I will return to deal with you as well.” He allowed his words to echo through their minds as he turned away.
The Magistrate stood dumbfounded. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. The Overlord can count on us.” He waved everyone away. “Back to work.” He sidestepped toward them, equally anxious to escape more notice.
Michael disregarded them and returned to the Nephilim. Once the door hissed shut, he closed his eyes and thought his findings to The Overlord’s coordinator, Gabriel, who, in turn, would notify the Nemesis and anyone else the Overlord deemed necessary.
He slid off the robe and hung it by the door, and then smoothed his hair, fastening it neatly again at the base of his neck before returning to the bridge and dropping into the control chair. Reactivating the main view screen, he looked out onto the scene again. They single-mindedly walked in and laid waste to the place, solely to retrieve Alandra. Why hadn’t they taken advantage of the situation? A few well-placed charges could have shut this mine down—at least for a while. Why only her?
Michael reached for the Nephilim’s controls. Her engine purred to life, and she shot through the night with little warning. From below, the illusion of a silver-tipped spear streaked across the sky towards the western ice mountains.