Paladin Chronicles Ch 00 01

The goal of this group of stories is to explore writing cozy sci-fi/space fantasy adventures both smutty and not (at present). While the stories are both in progress, at present, "The Paladin Chronicles" is more romance, with no smut (at present), and "A Valiant Triquetra" is smut with plot. They are closely related (taking place on a shared timeline), and I'm still trying to decide if/how to combine them or how interdependent to make them (in terms of reading). For now, I'm putting them in the same series on here in the recommended reading order.

These stories are not hard sci-fi (more like Star Wars than The Expanse), so please adjust expectations accordingly. They have action-adventure levels peril and violence, but I'm not intending to have graphic depictions of violence or anything super dark. As I am writing the story I want to read, I intend for it to have a happy ending, but there may be moments of real conflict and peril.

This is all very much a work in progress (so it may be a little rough around the edges and may see undergo some changes) and something I'm writing for my own enjoyment in my own time (so it likely won't update rapidly). I'm using the Ironsword: Starforged solo-roleplaying game created by Shawn Tomkin to help craft the story, writing prose as I play, and (eventually) going back to edit things into something more resembling a story. If there is any interest, I could envision posting the "raw" material that includes the game moves, rolls, etc.

I'm happy to receive constructive, well-meaning feedback. With all that out of the way, let's set the stage:

* * *

Prologue:

Aeons ago, the ancient precursor race known as the Pakarans ruled much of our galaxy, leaving behind inscrutable monuments, enigmatic ruins, and the omnipresent nanomachines we call the Winds of Pakara. It was the discovery of the Winds that launched our ancestors to the stars. It was a golden age of expansion and scientific progress, but not without conflict. Rival powers and nations carved out domains among the stars and carried forward their old vendettas.

Two centuries ago, without warning, a ravenous swarm of insectoid creatures emerged from the galactic core. Composed of a terrifying variety of specialized bioforms and guided by a single implacable will, the Vraxnid swarm began to quickly overrun settled space, leaving only lifeless, barren worlds in its wake.

In the midst of this Cataclysm, the Winds led us to the deep-space locations of the Praxium Gates. Constructed from the strange, black metal favored by the Pakarans, these massive devices powered artificial wormholes which allowed our people to escape to a small satellite galaxy orbiting below our own.

This satellite galaxy—The Pakaran Maelstrom—was the birthplace of the Pakarans and the heart of their ancient empire. With the Praxium Gates now dormant, we are safe from the Vraxnids, but the Maelstrom is not without its own dangers. Strange and chaotic energies suffuse the Maelstrom, warping reality and giving rise to the Stormspawn—twisted horrifying creatures distinct from, but no less deadly or horrific than Vraxnid that drove us from our home

There are also the dangers we brought with us. Though many nations fell or combined in the Exodus, five powers dominate the Zenith, the densely settled space at the top edge of the Maelstrom. Within the tight region of faster-than-light communication enabled by the Pakaran Weave Hubs, the Zenith powers are locked in an eternal struggle for territory and supremacy. Equipped by talented weaponsmiths and shipwrights with deadly, high-tech tools of destruction, they wield mighty fleets and armies of battle-hardened troops against each other in constant skirmishes and—occasionally—all-out war.

Beyond the Zenith lie the Outlands, a wide sparsely settled frontier full of opportunity and danger in equal measure. There, among the untold vastness of space, the stories of countless lives unfold, all watched over by the ancient Winds of Pakara.

204.7.5.0301 - Meridian Station

The Vigilant blinked back into existence as it dropped out of drift space.

That wasn't my best transition

, I thought as I dabbed a scrape on my temple. The battered, but sleek, craft shuddered slightly as the e-drives cycled down and the fusion engines fired up. Through the cockpit window, I could see the familiar shape of Meridian Station silhouetted against the vast swirling clouds of the gas giant, Autorim. It was normally pretty busy around Meridian as mining vessels came and went about their business harvesting gas from the planet below, but today, however, everyone was leaving.

"Meridian Control, this is Paladin and the

Vigilant

. You all still open for business?" I sent out on a tight beam to the station.

There was a longer wait than usual before the dispatcher's response came back. "Paladin! You came at just the right time! The boss wants to see you right away. Docking Bay 17." After a pause, she continued, "You should bring a respirator with you, just in case."

"Docking Bay 17, with a respirator," I acknowledged.

* * *

"Someone bombed your environmentals?! Who's

that

stupid?" The Menders and their neutrality were respected throughout settled space. To attack a Mender or one of their Conclaves, much less a whole station under their control, would have nearly every civilized group gunning for the perpetrators.

While I digested the news, Tahira Saleem—Mender-Colonel of the ancient and highly respected Covenant of Azure Menders, Commander of Meridian Station—had her tongue between her teeth in concentration and her feet up on her desk, using her knees to hold her cybernetic arm straight while she reached through its elegant, flowing frame with a pair of delicate forceps.

She nodded and answered without looking up, "While they have neither claimed nor denied responsibility, the Scarlet Blades have been after Meridian Station for a while; they want the plasma forges. And at least till now, everyone else has had bigger problems than to hunt them down."

She gently locked the forceps and held them with her teeth while she felt around on her desk for the small screwdriver which had rolled away.

"Vrax-damned pirates." With a gesture and a thought, I commanded the Winds and the invisible nanites manipulated the gravity around the two tools. The forceps steadied and the screwdriver floated over to join them. Tahira's eyes danced as she grinned around the forceps and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. I nodded. She let go of the forceps and they stayed standing straight. "How bad is it?" I asked.

She looked over and gestured at me with her free hand before plucking the screwdriver from the air and returning to work on her arm. I felt a prickling, coolness wash over my temple as the Winds repaired the scrape there.

"We can repair most of the damage, but our Catalytic Purifiers are scrap. It's not bad yet, but without a new set, the air will eventually be unbreathable even with respirators."

"How long?"

"We're buying time by evacuating the mining crews and all non-essential personnel, but even so, we have days at most. That's not enough time to get new ones from another settlement." She put down the screwdriver and withdrew the forceps, flexing her hand smoothly. "I'll scuttle this station before I let them have it," she said quietly.

"I don't think you'll have to," I replied, standing up from the workbench I'd been leaning against.

She stood and pulled the white military jacket off the back of her chair. "You have a plan?"

I slowly took off my Praxium necklace, and held it out. "I swear by the Winds that I will get the Catalytic Purifiers for Meridian Station." With only the softest of rustles, an intricate Praxium ring formed around the fine chain links.

She stood there watching the ring materialize, jacket draped over her metal arm, touching her own necklace of Praxium rings. "Anzor, why do you think the Winds care about the Oaths at all? Why some people and some oaths, but not others?"

"Why are Windblessed so rare?" I replied with a shrug. "And why do the Winds give those powers to the just and the unjust alike? Maybe it would all make sense to the Pakarans. Maybe the Winds are just acting randomly without their creators."

I gestured and held up her jacket with my powers as she slipped into it. She zipped it up over her grey uniform tank top and adjusted the sleeves to make sure the dual Healer and Artificer armbands sat right.

She fixed her own Oath necklace and asked, "So what

is

your plan?"

"There are a few derelict mining stations below that were abandoned hastily. I think I can scavenge the parts from there. I'd like to check the old orbital logs here to get some more information."

"Anything you need, just get me those purifiers."

"In that case, I'm also going to need a resupply on my ship as well," I threw over my shoulder with a grin as I opened the door.

* * *

After an hour or so of sifting through the Station's old logs, I had a couple of likely candidates. Finding where they were now would be the tricky part, but that's just part of the job.

By the time I got back to the Vigilant, the flight crews had just finished refueling her, and there were a few crates of supplies waiting by the cargo bay.

Energy cells and emergency rations. Everything a salvaging expedition needs!

I lowered the door and starting storing the boxes of supplies inside.

The Vigilant had certainly seen better days. She'd been beautiful once - sleek and powerful. Now she still bore the extensive scars from her last battle as the NSF Relentless, from my last battle as Captain Volden of the New Sildoran Federation Commandos. For a long time, I'd felt it would be disrespectful to the fallen to erase the scars, but now I remembered something Tahira said once. "Honor the fallen, but the living come first."

I ran my hand over one of the deep claw marks.

You're still alive, aren't you, old friend.

I gripped my necklace and spoke softly, but firmly, "I swear by the Winds that I will heal my ship and restore its beauty."

I could feel the new Oath settle on my necklace, but it was a task for later. At the very least, the damage needed an in-depth assessment. Maybe the Mender shipyard at Port Welkin would be willing to handle that. But first, I needed to find some Catalytic Purifiers. I closed up the cargo bay, piloted the Vigilant out of the Docking Bay.