Thunder's Rhyme
CONTENTS
Title Page
Blank Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Thank you for reading!
Other Books
Review
About
THUNDER'S RHYME: A YA DYSTOPIAN SCI FI NOVEL (TERMINAL PLANET BOOK 1)
M.S. Kaminsky
Copyright © 2020 by M.S. Kaminsky
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a blog, magazine, or newspaper—without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Published by Open Pollinated Productions LLC
To my family, my husband and to all the wounded beasts.
With extra special thanks to my extraordinary readers and fans: I could not do this without you!
CHAPTER ONE
CAPTAIN DEVRIES STAGGERED to the starship’s bridge. His head pounded, and his left shoulder throbbed. It was a miracle he’d survived the attack.
Mutiny? On The Calypso?
Once again, he’d underestimated people’s intolerance and prejudices. They’d murdered Zorn. He might be next if he didn’t act fast.
From deep in the starship, the sound of fighting echoed. Voices drew closer. Devries swiped the ship’s controls to autonomous and engaged the encrypted passcode.
Turning to TOM, the captain put his hand on the android’s shoulder. “You have my instructions.” His eyes misted over. TOM was one of the last crew-members he could trust, and he was an android. Blood oozed from Devries’ swollen lip. “I recorded a video message for them. Make sure they see it.”
“Yes.” TOM saluted. “I will follow orders as requested.”
“Raise them, teach them. They must complete their mission no matter what. Understood?”
TOM gave a curt nod.
A shout rang from down the hall. Boots clanged against metal. Seconds later, Officer Crayson entered, eyes clouded with fury. Two crewmen followed. Blood speckled their gray uniforms. At the sight of Devries, the crewmen aimed their weapons. TOM stood in front of his captain to shield him.
Throughout the mutiny, TOM had tried his best to protect Devries. However, combat was not his forte. Hidden beneath the human-like, synthetic covering, his sturdy nimodium limbs were durable but slow. His inventors built him to serve not to fight. Earlier battle damage left him with deep gouges that revealed shiny robotics hidden beneath his synthetic skin.
Crayson aimed his phase gun and fired. The pulse hit TOM in the stomach. He staggered and crumbled to the floor. Devries had nowhere to run. He glared at Crayson and took a step forward, fists clenched. His shoulder throbbed, reminding him of his injuries. What could he do against several armed men?
The crewmen stepped forward, yanking Devries’ arm over his head. He screamed in agony as his left shoulder popped, dislocating as it wrenched behind him. Crayson jammed the butt of his phase gun into the back of Crayson’s skull. Hot from its recent use, the weapon’s burning metal seared his skin.
* * *
Hours later, he woke with several of his crewmates—three of his best women and men.
“Where are we?” Devries asked, groggy. The room didn’t look familiar.
“Refuse ejector,” Manor, his second lieutenant, answered.
“Oh, that’s rich.” Devries groaned. “Like that old movie? Why not just kill us and be done with it?”
Skylar, a weary gray-haired woman in her forties, shook her finger. “They want to humiliate you and punish us to prove their point. No doubt they have cameras hidden. If you’d listened, this never would have happened. I warned you about the Dustmen. They’re intolerant bigots.”
Devries glared up at the ceiling, looking for cameras. “Screw them and their close-minded customs!” He smacked his palm against the metal floor.
Skylar’s husband, Samuel, jutted his bony chin toward Devries. “Was your stubbornness worth this?” Dark circles ringed his eyes. A patch of hair had been ripped from his scalp.
“You blame the wrong person.” Devries shifted, trying to ease his aching shoulder. “I never foresaw this… and I am the captain.”
“Were,” Samuel whispered.
“Guard your tongue. This is mutiny and murder. They killed Zorn and—” Devries choked-up with emotion.
Skylar lowered her eyes to the floor. “What happens when they kill us? Once they’ve taken over the entire ship? So much for our mission.”
“They won’t take over the ship,” Devries whispered. “I programmed Starship Calypso with a few surprises. The mission will happen with or without us.”
“Surprises?” Samuel laughed. “Look at my face. These bruises? That was a surprise. All because I stood up for you. You’ve jeopardized everything. For what?”
“He is our captain,” Manor warned. “Carry not the cargo of regrets, brother.”
“For what? For truth, for justice.” Devries held his eyes steady on Samuel’s face. “For love and to do what was right.”
“I don’t want… to die out there.” Samuel’s voice shook.
The deep, dark of space. For land-dwellers who traveled between planets, it became their most primal fear—fear of darkness, nothingness, and suffocating death.
Devries sighed. “It won’t come to that.”
* * *
Several hours later, the gas released as Devries planned.
Manor noticed it first. “I feel strange. Sleepy.” He yawned.
Devries watched as they fought against the invisible death. He wanted to warn them not to struggle. To tell them that fighting would make it painful. Before he could speak, his eyes close
d, and his breathing slowed. He drifted into a deep coma, and then his heart stopped.
CHAPTER TWO
GRIFFIN!
Griffin’s eyes fluttered at the sound of his name. Music played in the background. A familiar song. He’d heard this tune hundreds of times. Maybe thousands.
Whoever created this playlist, quite simply, sucked.
You m-must wake up, Griffin. It’s time to complete your mission, a voice commanded.
Mission? Huh? Who? Me? Griffin’s eyes opened, and he found himself suspended in a giant, translucent, egg-shaped pod. For a moment, he had the disorienting sensation of being a disembodied brain floating in a vat of clear liquid. How sad would that be?
He looked down and felt relieved to see his naked body. He wiggled his hands. Fingers, check. Stretched his legs. Legs. Check. Flexed his toes. Yup, ten of ‘em. Check. The basics worked. But he hung suspended in liquid like an embryo in a translucent globe. That was kinda weird.
Okay, so where the hell am I? What happened?
He remembered a friend named… Zorn… no. Not Zorn. Zorn died. He had a friend named Luke.
It’s t-t-time to wake up! the disembodied voice stuttered.
Within the sphere, vein-like tubes connected to various points on his body. A thick cable attached to his heart. Others connected to the palms of his hands, the top of his head, and his umbilical region. Pulsating flesh-tubes. His heart kathudded in his chest, and the orb pulsed with each beat. Filtered light shone through the opaque surface. It was hard to see beyond its confines.
Another similar sphere sat next to his, maybe three meters away. He made out a human figure inside. It was too blurry to see much else but a thrill rose in his chest. At least he wasn’t alone.
The ship cannot support your pod m-m-much longer, Griffin. It’s time to wake up and complete your mission.
Who are you?
I am TOM-986 at your service.
The mission. Griffin recalled a few things about the mission, but they were jumbled together, mixed up and out of place. It was as if someone had given him three different puzzles in the same box. The mission was important. If he failed, many people would die. But what people? Where? He struggled but nothing more came.
The sphere shook. A tube ripped from Griffin’s left hand. Sharp pain crawled up his arm. Ribbons of blood swirled around in lazy whorls.
Griffin! You m-m-must exit. It’s almost too late, the grating, somewhat androgynous voice of TOM-386 blared. There has been a critical error in my system. Files were d-damaged. Key parts of your sequence corrupted. Please enter self-preservation m-m-mode.
What the hell is self-preservation m-m-mode? Luke wondered.
Before TOM could answer, a tiny rupture appeared at the bottom of the orb. Liquid squirted out. Griffin struggled. Bloody fluid sprayed from the orb onto the metallic floor. The thick flesh-tube that connected to his heart withered. When it disengaged, a jab of pain pierced his chest like a knife.
Bubbles flurried from Griffin’s mouth as he screamed. Looking down, he expected to see a gaping hole in his ribcage. Although the pain was crazy intense, the center of his chest looked smooth. Bright red skin lay where the vein had connected. No wound.
Exit the support m-module!
Griffin tore his hand free from a connector on his right. He moved his fingers. Spots danced in his eyes. Griffin struggled against the remaining veins and tendrils that held him suspended in the orb. The hole grew larger and the remaining liquid drained. He huffed and gasped barely able to breathe.
Wait, he was breathing. This was different. Familiar but unusual. Who taught him to breathe?
No one taught you, Griffin. You were built to breathe. Now fight! TOM-386 shouted.
Now he hung surrounded by a giant, saggy membranous sack. A sack that suffocated him. With one final push, the entire orb tipped to the metal floor with a splat.
Pain tore through Griffin’s chest. The membrane still surrounded him. Huge folds of the tissue covered him like a heavy, mucous-filled garment. He ripped and tore, trying to make the hole larger, but couldn’t get through. His lung burned and screamed for oxygen.
Use your weapons. I can’t help you further.
What weapons? He lay sprawled naked in a giant membrane. Visions of guns, knives, and cutting tools flashed through his mind. There were none around. It was maddening, to have these things appear and taunt him in his mind. When he’d first awoke, he’d felt as if whatever he imagined might appear. Wasn’t that how things worked? You thought of something and it showed up? Nope. Apparently not.
Griffin, you must…
Just then, the giant cord that attached to the top of Griffin’s head broke. White light filled Griffin’s vision, and he remembered TOM’s last command. Use your weapons.
Griffin bit into the membrane. Snorting, choking, and half-dead, he gnawed and chewed at the foul substance. It felt as if he chewed a part of himself. His mouth filled with dense, gelatinous mucous. He choked and heaved, ready to give up, to die, to pass out. Or better, to float back into the dreamy state he’d emerged from.
A puff of air. Griffin poked his head out, then forced the rest of his body through the slimy opening.
He lay on the floor of a large white room. Stairs led up to a second platform. Another orb, like the one he’d escaped, hung suspended from the ceiling by long tendrils. A few cables were filled with red liquid. Others were fiberoptic cables that hooked into the white wall. TOM’s voice was no longer an annoying buzz in his mind. Now his voice blared through the room like a siren.
“Griffin, go. Leave Luke! You must complete your mission.”
“Luke?” Griffin looked up at the other figure, and his heart raced when he saw what was happening. Inside, surrounded by the odd liquid, a naked teen male floated. The teen’s face convulsed. Eyes bulging, face blue, he clutched at his throat. He was in trouble.
“Use your weapons!” Griffin shouted as he half-walked half-crawled across the ledge and climbed the stairs to the other orb. He tore at it with his hands, bit it. But it was even more difficult coming from the outside.
A real weapon, that’s what he needed. He looked around the room. Fallen cables lay strewn around the floor. The large one that connected at the top of his orb had a metal clasp attached to the metal ceiling. Griffin grabbed it and pulled.
“Griffin, be careful or you will harm the birthing chamber.”
Griffin ignored TOM. Whoever Luke was, he had to save him. Griffin swung from the cable, smashing his bare foot into Luke's orb. The supple material bounced him right back. There was no way he’d be able to breakthrough.
Metal fasteners bent in the ceiling. That gave him an idea. He swung again. A few more swings and pop. The entire cable disconnected. Griffin tumbled to the floor.
Griffin grabbed the sharp edge where the metal clasp joined and spun it over his head. Once, twice, three times. Gaining momentum, he released it with a smack against the side of Luke's orb. Liquid gushed out as the fluid released through the gash. Griffin ripped and tore at the gap, opening it further and dragging Luke out.
Luke was not breathing. Griffin cleared the mucous and gunk that blocked his mouth. He put his mouth to Luke's and blew. The youth’s chest rose and sank. It rose and sank again.
“Luke is ding dong dead.” TOM’s words were interspersed with an electronic, bell-like chime. “L-Luke is ding dong dead. Luke is ding dong dead. There is no point in engaging in resuscitation efforts,” TOM blared in the room.
It was maddening; it was infuriating. But Griffin ignored it. Luke coughed. His blue cheeks turned pink. He coughed again. Griffin sat back on his haunches, lungs heaving. Luke leaned over and coughed out the last of the liquid. He lay back and stared up at the ceiling.
Meanwhile, TOM continued to shout his nonsense alert.
Luke tried to sit. “I’m hungry enough to eat a lorox beast.”
Griffin’s heart calmed when he saw that Luke seemed okay.
Luke glanced at Griffin and ga
ve a wan smile. His eyes cleared as he gazed at Griffin. “Griffin!” He smiled.
“Luke.” Griffin smiled back. He somehow knew that this teen was his best and most trusted friend in the star system, yet he remembered nothing else. For now, that was enough. It hung, glowing in his chest. “What’s a lorox beast, anyway?”
Luke paused. “A lorox beast? Well, it’s…” He paused. “I have no damn clue. But I’m pretty sure they make a good burger.”
They both sighed in unison, smiles returning.
TOM continued to issue his alert. “Luke is ding dong dead.”
“Can someone turn that off? What is it?” Luke croaked. “I’m not dead.”
Together, they scowled at the spot where the voice originated from.
Griffin helped Luke stand. “TOM-386. Some type of AI.”
Luke steadied himself against Griffin and closed his eyes. “It’s making my head hurt.” He opened his eyes and looked at Griffin. At almost the same moment, they turned toward the voice and shouted, “TOM: Will you shut the hell up!”
Where they got the energy to yell, Griffin didn’t know, but TOM quit blabbering. And Luke was not ding dong dead.
CHAPTER THREE
“HEY, TOM, WE’RE ready for our mission!” Griffin shouted.
“I was hoping for some food. Maybe some clothes too?” Luke shivered. They stood naked in front of a large hatch.
Griffin nodded. “Good point. Clothes. Food. Then, mission.”
“I vote for food first.” Luke clutched his belly.
“Initiating,” TOM said. The door irised open. Beyond it lay another smaller room with a similar hatch at the far end. “P-P-Please enter airlock.”
Griffin and Luke stepped through, and the door irised shut. Air hissed out as the opening in front slid open.
A strange individual greeted them. One of his green eyes was cocked up and to the left. Half of his face appeared human; the other half was a mix of damaged prosthetic and electronic bits that made up the inner workings of his face.