The Reign: Destiny - The Life Of Travis Rand Read online

  THE REIGN: Destiny – The Life of Travis Rand

  by Lance Berry

  Cover artwork/rear cover sketch by: Bip Diggs.

  This novel is copyright 2006, 2007 by Lance Berry. The title “The Reign” is the author’s sole property. Travis Rand, the ship Horizon and all subsequent characters and incidents within are the property of the author. This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead or to any incidents is purely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Throughout my life, I have been infinitely blessed to have a select group of friends and relatives who have stood by me through good times and bad. Each of the following people has shown unwavering faith in my abilities as a writer, and I would like to thank them for the gift of their love and friendship.

  My mother, Linda McKay. My brother, Justin. Kyle Talbert, Hilton Garcia, Chris and Karla W., Curtis Belin, Joe Facey, Lisa and Patrick P. Daniel and Norma Fuller, Nancy Mattis, Tim and Rachel W., Stacy Tran, Deina H., Lee Davis. Margo Mckay, Marja Allen-Vongerichten, Todd Schmid, Harry and Stephanie C., Christine Engratt and Wanda Sanders. (Some of the above may find their names and fairly accurate approximations of themselves within this story. It’s not my fault–blame yourselves for knowing a writer.)

  Thanks also to the late Pat Cordero, Gordon McKay and Beatrice McKay (Nana). Each of you influenced me in the most positive of ways while I knew you. I love you so much, and miss you every day. Special thanks to Linda Lee Cadwell, Shannon Lee Keasler and Chris Storti of The Bruce Lee Foundation and its subsidiary, Concord Moon, for allowing me to use selected quotations from Bruce Lee’s seminal martial arts doctrine The Tao of Jeet Kune Do, in this novel.

  The Reign: Destiny – The Life of Travis Rand

  By Lance Berry

  The very first sensations he would ever experience would be pain and noise.

  Later in his life, he would no longer recall the second sensation, but he would always remember the first. For this pain was no simple thing– this was the pain brought about by exposure to the cold. Not just the type that makes a person’s nose red with potential illness, or which is easily removed by returning to the safety and warmth of the indoors. This was the cold which slices through the body like knives, penetrating to the bone in such a way that one swears the marrow will freeze through and through, and that the skeleton will surely collapse under its own weight. This was the certainty of death, and even when he was finally brought into the warmth, after far too interminable a time, the damage was done–the experience firmly imprinted on his sensory and neural pathways. This thing, this terrible, frightening experience which greeted him upon his entry into the world, would never be forgotten.

  But perhaps, in some small way, this experience might have all been part of the great cosmic scheme; a gesture of left-handed goodwill bestowed by the fates which had conspired to bring him into being. For this experience was the first of many which taught Travis Rand to be a survivor; to not give up fighting, whatever the circumstances. No mere child could have survived the elements on that day…no, this child was unique in ways which would not become apparent for many years. And he was born at just the right time because his world…and very soon, the universe…would have need of him.

  It’s not every day that a messiah is born…or made.

  The Present (2194)

  The first thing Martha Keys noticed upon opening her door to the stranger was that he was Black. The second thing she noticed was that he was extremely handsome. For some reason, this second realization made her suddenly self-conscious and she quickly–perhaps too quickly, too obviously–ran her fingers through her hair and smoothed out the somewhat wrinkled apron she wore. She found her embarrassment to be an amazing thing; she had never really been attracted to dark-skinned men, but if she were thirty years younger–hell, maybe only twenty–she would have excused herself, quickly run upstairs, and changed into something much more appealing. Something that revealed more of her legs, perhaps. When she was younger, every man loved her legs.

  “Yes, can I help you?” she said with an awkward smile.

  “Mrs. Martha Keys?” the handsome man asked. His voice was just deep enough to be unobtrusively seductive.

  “Actually, it’s Ms. Keys now,” she corrected. “My husband died some years ago.” Forgive me, Albert, she thought, but if this young stud decides he does like older women…

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, reserved. It was then that Martha was able to focus beyond him, and realize it was raining outside. Pouring, in fact. Even though the young man wore a raincoat and boots–were those military boots?–he must be soaked. Cold through to the bone, at least. “Would you like to come in?” she quietly offered, embarrassed at her lack of social graces. He nodded as he thanked her and stepped in, being certain to stand only on the welcome mat just inside the front door, so the water would fall there and nowhere else.

  He closed the front door behind him and ran a hand through his wet hair. “I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Travis. Travis Rand. I am–I was–a friend of your daughter’s, a long time ago.”

  Martha’s eyes widened in a type of awe. “Travis Rand? As in: Captain of the flagship Horizon?” He nodded mildly, almost sheepishly, as if she had uncovered some great secret he had hoped to keep hidden. This didn’t stop her from continuing to look at him with even more of a high regard than his looks alone allowed. “I saw a news report about you and your ship on the Allied News Network. They said you were responsible for uncovering that plot by those horrible Freedom’s Deliverance people, to keep the war going. That if you and the Horizon hadn’t interceded, we’d still be at war with the Calvorians.”

  Rand shrugged noncommittally. “The pressnets tend to blow everything out of proportion. My crew and I had other help, and we were lucky that the captain of the Calvorian flagship was willing to listen to our side of the facts.” Martha listened, but could tell by Rand’s reserved manner that there was probably more truth to what the A.N.N. had reported than perhaps he would like to admit. She decided not to call him on it. His desire to not inflate his own ego or self-importance was another attractive thing about him. She wondered briefly what his favorite breakfast was, and if she had the ingredients.

  “Please, take off your coat, Captain,” she said and gestured to a coat rack near the door. “I’m off duty,” he remarked as he removed his coat. “It’s just Travis.”

  “Okay,” she acknowledged, noting to herself that he was wearing the distinctive black United Earth Force uniform nonetheless. His dark shirt clung to him tightly, accenting the fact that he was in extremely good shape. “I had no idea it was raining so hard outside. You must be freezing. Can I get you some tea…Travis?”

  “That would be very nice, thank you, Ma’am,” he answered as he finished hanging the coat and shrugged hard, trying to knock the cold out of his bones. Martha kept her smile in place, although being called “ma’am” had deflated her hopes just a bit. When men called you “ma’am”, it meant you were officially old and whatever beauty or sexual appeal you once possessed, it was forever lost to antiquity. Best to start baking those cookies and plan for retirement to that Great Bingo Parlor in the Sky.

  She led him through the foyer, into the modest kitchen. The one in her last home had been larger, but after Albert’s death and with only her and her daughter together, it made no sense to keep a large kitchen once they moved. “So, you’re Danielle’s friend,” Martha stated as she pulled cups and saucers down from the cabinet. “I do seem to recall her mentioning you, some time ago. You and she trained together at Sanderson, am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  Martha nod
ded as she filled a pot with water. “Until just now, I never made the connection that the captain of Earth’s flagship was the same Travis Rand.” A brief smile flitted across her lips. “Danielle would be proud of you. When she did speak of you, it was always with high regard.”

  Travis exhaled, seemingly in relief, and smiled. “That’s nice to know. So…how’s she doing? She is still…”

  “Alive?” She finished for him. He nodded, and she answered, “After a fashion, Travis…after a fashion.” She lit a fire under the pot and gestured to two chairs set out at a small table in the corner. “How much do you know about her accident?” she asked as she prepared to sit. She almost started in surprise when he quickly moved around and pulled her chair out for her. She smiled gratefully, and had to catch herself when she started to think –What a nice young man–

  “Thank you,” she offered graciously, and was relieved that he answered “you’re welcome” only, and didn’t tag on “ma’am” again. He took the seat across from her and picked up right where she had left off. “Not much. I had heard that about five years ago, she was injured during battle on an outlying world in the Lalande star-system. There was some brain damage, but I didn’t find out much else. This was passed on to me by another friend from our Academy days, Tony Drake. He was one of the last surviving members of our training cadre.”

  Martha’s eyebrows arched. “Do you mean Anthony Drake, whose father settled the first Martian colony?” Travis tilted his head quizzically and nodded. Martha smiled. “As you probably know, Danielle’s father was in the service. As a soldier’s widow, I still have the unfortunate habit of subscribing to the military’s newspaper. Goodness, but I had no idea my daughter traveled in such circles.”

  Travis chuckled. “Actually, I think our cadre seemed to travel in her circles. Being around Danielle was always a great experience.”

  Martha smiled warmly. “It still is, even though she no longer realizes it.” The tea kettle started to whistle, and she rose to go appease it. “How do you like your tea? I have lemon, honey, and milk for choices.”

  “Five sugars, please…with just enough milk to lighten the tea.”

  She raised an eyebrow at the number of sugars, yet still carried out the task with exacting care. She put two sugars and just enough milk to give her own tea a coffee-like appearance, then returned to the table with their cups resting on saucers. She sighed slightly, girding herself to tell the tale. “Five years ago, Danielle was second-in-command of security aboard the Heavy Cruiser Hessian. The ship was assigned to scope out a planet in the Lalande sector for possible colonization. UEF wanted to set up a listening outpost. Danielle was ordered to take a security contingent and reconnoiter a certain portion of the planet, where colonization might have proven most habitable. Unfortunately, the Calvorians had thought of the same thing, and their reconnaissance team ran into Danielle’s. Of course, fighting broke out and–“

  “I’m sorry,” Travis said, holding up his hand to pause her, “But how did the teams ‘run into’ each other? How was it the Hessian didn’t detect a Calvorian team on the surface?”

  Martha shook her head sadly. “I don’t know. That’s one of the things Earth Force Command wouldn’t tell us. It must have fallen under the distinction of ‘tactical secrets’ or some other nonsensical idiocy,” she said angrily. She gnawed her lip a moment, and had to make a conscious effort to lighten her tone again. “I don’t mean to sound critical of the military, Captain. It’s just that–“

  “There’s absolutely no reason you have to justify your feelings for me,” he gently interjected. “Believe me, there’ve been times that as both soldier and captain, I’ve had to carry out orders I didn’t agree with in the slightest. You have a right, far as I’m concerned, to know every detail of the mission. Of course, that’s not for us to decide, is it? Please, go on.”

  Martha smiled, grateful for his understanding. She realized her spoon was clink-clink-clinking against the sides of her cup as she absentmindedly stirred her tea, and stopped abruptly. She brought her attention back to him as she went on, “A shot from one of the Calvorians’ guns went straight through her helmet, into the parietal lobe and out the other side of her skull. In under a tenth of a microsecond, my little girl was effectively and totally lobotomized. She ceased being Danielle, and…” She broke off, unable to continue. Whenever she went upstairs to her daughter’s room, she felt the urge to cry, but had learned to fight it off only recently. But now, retelling the tale to this young man–Would you stop saying that, you stupid old fool! –she could feel the tears welling up within her eyes, readying themselves to breach the mortar of her mental dam like so much water built up after a flood, no longer able to be contained.

  And all at once, she broke down in front of this nice young man, helplessly crying in the open…unable to hide her shame, her sorrow, or her age any more.

  After calming Martha Keys down to some semblance of normalcy, Travis politely finished his tea and prepared himself to leave. He apologized for his visit, told her at least three times that he never meant to upset her, and headed for his waiting raincoat on the rack near the front door. But Martha insisted that he stay, and her tone held a quiet, lonely desperation to it. He felt that it might actually hurt her more for him to leave, and so he gently acquiesced. Martha admitted that after her crying jag, she couldn’t bear to go up to Danielle’s room, but she directed him as to where it was on the second floor of the three-story townhouse. So he climbed the stairs, turned left at the top of the landing, passed a closet and bathroom, and stood before the last door at the hallway’s end. He took a deep breath, silently blew it out, then pushed the door open.

  Danielle’s room was a hodge-podge of collected memories, possibly from every period in her life. There were stuffed animals and dolls on several wall-mounted shelves. Board games and short skirts visible in the partially-opened closet. Posters of various bands adorned the walls, along with thumb-tacked or taped photographs of friends and family. The bed, however, was very adult: dark satin sheets covered a queen-sized fourpost.

  His eyes ran over the photos, and found one particular picture which curled one corner of his mouth upward in bittersweet recollection. It was a photo taken at the Sanderson School, of his final training cadre. There they were, captured in eternal youth: Horatio, Danielle, Skovarinov, himself, Chang, Drake and King.

  How many were still left from those days? How many had paid a price, in one way or another, for their service and devotion to United Earth Force? Some of them, like Travis, were lucky–they had made it to the horizon they’d always sought, and lived to see the end of the war in their lifetimes. Travis had lost contact with some of them, of course…it’s the nature of life for people to drift away from one another, no matter what promises are made, what vows are sworn. Drift away…like ice floes across the sea.

  Were those days ever really “good old”–?

  Gradually, Travis forced himself to turn his attention to Danielle, who sat in a wheelchair in the center of the room. She was older now, obviously, in her mid-thirties. Her hair had grown long, just past her shoulders–a marked change from the crew cut she once wore. She was dressed in a daisy yellow sundress, with her feet covered by white slippers. A colostomy bag rested precisely in a holding net just off the side of her chair, and a pulse sensor was fastened securely around her left wrist. The sensor detailed all of Danielle’s vital statistics, including heart activity and respiration. Every reading was strong, with the exception of brain functions, which were nearly flatline. Travis gently sat on the edge of the bed and stared into Danielle’s still-lovely gray eyes. She stared back without seeing him, without seeing anything. He reached out, gently moved aside some hair from above her forehead, and winced at the fact that there was no scar where the once-enemy’s laser had struck her. The science of plastic surgery was too efficient at times, Travis thought, certainly in this instance. For such a fatal effect as wiping out a person’s entire personality–everything they were,
or could ever hope to be–he felt there should at least be a physical reminder of that cost.

  Now, as he sat on the comfortable bed and watched Danielle stare out at nothing, he found himself thinking back to the question Martha had asked him before he came upstairs, which he had inexplicably been unable to answer: What brought you here?

  He knew why he had come, of course. He had known about Danielle’s injury for five years. Yet in all that time he had been unable to break away from his duties long enough to at least check up on her, to visit her, hold her hand, even if she would never know he had been there. Now that the war was finally over, the peace treaty signed, and United Earth Force generously doling out heaping gobs of shore leave for their service personnel, he no longer had any excuse not to visit. They had been comrades, friends, and almost more at one time, and he missed her. She had saved his life on more than one occasion, and he at least owed it to the memory of the person she had been, so very long ago it now seemed, to stop by and pay respects.

  What brought you here?

  Why did that question suddenly take on such heavy meaning, all of a sudden? It pressed down on him like the weight of the world upon Atlas’ shoulders, threatening to overwhelm and crush him at any moment. He looked at Danielle, and even her unseeing eyes likened to press the question upon him further…

  What brought you here…

  PROLOGUE: THE PAST

  (2163)

  No.

  Travis Rand hated the word “no”.

  It seemed he had been hearing that word all his life, from the time he was a little baby (which actually hadn’t been that long ago, and if he stopped to think about it, he would have realized he couldn’t have possibly remembered anyone saying that word to him when he was a little baby anyway). But he was now the stout age of a whole four years old, and in his opinion, he should be able to have the answers he wanted and be allowed to do what he wanted to do!