Queenie's Brigade

QUEENIE’S BRIGADE

Heather Massey

Copyright 2021 Heather Massey

Publisher: Crackerjack Creatives LLC, 2021

Cover image by mollyroselee from Pixabay

License Notes

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the author's imagination. Any resemblance to events, places, persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people on social media sites or through other means. Please don't reproduce it in any form including physical, electronic, or other (an exception is the use of brief quotations for the purposes of critical articles and/or reviews). The author has asserted her respective rights to be identified as the author of this book.

Queenie's Brigade was originally published by Red Sage Publishing in 2011. Edition 2 has been reformatted and rejuvenated with a new cover but has not been substantially changed.

Content warning: graphic violence

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

About the author

Prologue

The hot afternoon sun beat down relentlessly against Mickey’s head as he added the finishing touches to his mud fortress masterpiece.

With seven towers, ten miniature die-cast cannons, and a muddy moat filled with dozens of plastic alligators—scratch that: dozens of flesh-eating Furious Fangers—the marauding troll mutants from the Black Swamp didn’t stand a chance against the Mage Kings of Otherworld.

Mickey shaped a handful of wild onions and mud with his grime-coated hands into a misshapen troll. Three of the bulbs formed eyes that bulged with just the right amount of menace.

That was when he heard the scream.

It came from the direction of the woods to his left. Shouts followed, punctuated by a bark of laughter. He cut a glance toward the tree line, but saw no one.

Neighborhood kids, including Mickey himself, were always cutting through the heavily forested area next to his house for one reason or another. Years ago, it used to be a park—so Mickey heard...that being before his time. But now, it was a forgotten realm buried under overgrown weeds and unidentifiable hunks of rusty metal. He turned back to his troll.

Another shriek echoed among the nearby trees. In the sudden silence that followed, Mickey remembered that his sister, newly sixteen last week and as bossy as ever, had entered the woods about twenty minutes earlier. With a bounce in her step, Celia had waved at Mickey with a quick Going to Zaps.

Zaps was the new virtucade gaming emporium in the strip plaza that bordered the other side of the woods. The ads for it boasted top-of-the-line software, the same used on the ships of the new space navy. This was first class stuff. No ten-year-olds allowed, much to his disappointment.

Curiosity drove him to investigate. Mickey dropped his troll-in-progress and headed for the woods. A time or two he’d snuck up on groups of wild teens throwing even wilder parties in the thickest, most hidden parts. He wondered if one was starting now, and what pranks they would pull. A smirk twisted his lips at the thought of catching Celia doing something that would drive their mom berserk if she found out. I’m going to tell and you’re going to be in so much trouble!

Slowly, carefully, Mickey navigated the thorny underbrush. Best to stay off the main path if he could. At first, he heard nothing to indicate whoever was around. But it didn’t take long for a series of grunts to lead him to his destination.

Breathing hard with anticipation, he inched toward the source of the sounds. He heard male voices now, harsh and conspiratorial. He headed for a clearing he knew lay about a hundred feet ahead.

Staying low to the ground, Mickey crept around the trunk of a large tree whose gnarled roots provided more than adequate camouflage for a small boy like him. He looked into the clearing. His heart stopped. His blood turned to ice.

Celia lay on the grass, surrounded by three very large and much older boys. Men, maybe. He’d never seen them before. They were smoking. Drinking. Joking. A fourth man lay on top of her, moving like he was doing push ups. His pants were down around his ankles.

Celia wasn’t moving at all. Was it her scream he’d heard earlier? It had been a girl’s scream, he realized now. Mickey’s mouth went instantly dry. If he was right about what he suspected he was seeing, the situation was bad—horribly, horribly bad.

What should he do? What could he do? Run and get Mom? No, by then it’d be too late for Celia. He had to get those men away from her. Fast. But how?

Mickey frantically scanned the nearby ground. There had to be—yes, that! That’s what he needed. His right hand closed around a large rock. He took aim and prayed he could hit his mark.

He hurled the rock at the man on top of his sister. It smashed into the side of his face with a sickening thump. Blood coursed down his cheek. Mickey didn’t wait to see his reaction, but heard his violent cursing. Quickly, Mickey curled his hand around another rock. His heart pumped wildly and he slung the projectile at the next man. Missed.

They saw him now. Swearing, the man on Celia rolled off of her. A look of pure rage covered his face as he yanked up his pants. The other three launched themselves toward Mickey.

You little shit, the lead man said. Fury blazed in his eyes. Get the fuck over here.

Mickey scooped up another rock and threw it backwards as he ran.

The stranger snarled and leapt forward. The chase was on.

Stumbling through the thick underbrush, Mickey plunged back into the woods. He could only hope that all four men would follow him. They’d attacked his sister, and they knew it was wrong. If they didn’t catch Mickey they’d be in a world of trouble. He leaped over a fallen, rotting tree splayed out over the ground. He had to get help as quickly as possible.

As he tore through the woods, outstretched branches whipped against his face. Guilt sliced through him. Was Celia okay? Was he doing the right thing by leaving her behind? Even though she was bossy and a know-it-all at times, she was still his sister. The sight of her had shocked him. She’d looked bruised and unconscious. What else could he have done? He had to try something.

Tears burned his eyes. She had to be okay. She just had to be.

The men charged after him, yelling nonstop threats as they advanced. Mickey was thin. He was younger and smaller than they, but he could run. And run he did, as if all the devils of Hell were on his heels.

His lungs expanded painfully. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision. A root caught his right foot, sending him face first into the ground. He scrambled up, wiping dirt and blood away from his eyes. A quick glance back revealed the men were gaining fast. He could hear them panting close behind him now. If they caught him, they’d kill him. He was sure of it.

Mickey sprinted forward having no idea where he was going. The woods, once tame and familiar, loomed ahead of him like a vicious maw with ever-widening teeth. Until a clear chance of escape presented itself, he did the only thing he had any control over.

He kept running and running and running....

Chapter One

The starship screamed ahead, fleeing from its pursuing wolves. Over two dozen enemy ships were hunting the destroyer UFE Relentless as it navigated a randomly chosen course far, far from home. Standing at his station on the bridge, Captain Michael Drake inhaled a deep, regretful sigh. With it came the odor of stale sweat, acrid smoke, and singed clothing. He rubbed a red-raw hand against his gravelly chin, wishing the action could wipe away the last ten years as well.

It had been a very poor time to be alive.

As he weighed one attack strategy against another, his bridge crew spewed damage reports left and right, a cacophony of strained voices. Drake cut a glance toward his overworked screen. Their destroyer had sustained heavy losses to the torpedo bays, the plasma cannons, the hull...the list stretched to infinity. Yet the anxiety evident in each of their voices wasn’t so much about the damages, but the sad realization that Earth had been lost to them. They had nowhere left to run.

This, and the fact that one more direct hit was all it would take for the entire 57-member crew to kiss oblivion.

Looking back, this final battle for Earth’s freedom was an exercise in futility—an act of final desperation. Sure, the fleet admiral and other captains might have labeled his retreat as a coward’s errand. But they were all dead now, so Drake shunted the offensive thought aside. The crew of the Relentless and he were the last, and survival currently took precedence over pride.

Survival had to come first now, because Earth’s citizens were about to be subjected to the brutal lash of the Calithian Empire. What benefit would it serve if his ship was destroyed? The answer: Absolutely nothing. Life meant a chance for vengeance—something he intended to wring from every Calithian neck here today. If it meant burning the very heavens down around him to have that satisfaction, so be it.

So, the ship plunged ahead on his order, running and leaving their dead comrades behind. But living with that decision? That wouldn’t be easy. Drake felt his fingernails bite and draw blood as he clenched his fists. Echoes of painful memories jolted him with their intensity. Memories of not being strong enough. Or fast enough.

When his sister Celia had desperately needed him over two decades ago, he’d failed her. Running was all he seemed to do well.

Drake’s eyes narrowed at the thought. He would make time for personal rebukes later. He forced his thoughts to the present. Failing Earth wasn’t an option. Instead, he planned to return with a greater force and win back the planet before the inevitable massacre of the human race. Drake had to focus on that and that alone.

Just what were his enemy counterparts on the pursuing ships thinking now, he wondered. Was this some sort of sport to them? He could only imagine those bastards’ delight.

The sore irony was that the Calithians shared the same DNA as humans. They looked human, and even shit and pissed like humans. It was only their eyes that betrayed their true nature: those blacker than black orbs that soullessly burned into you.

Initial contact with them had gone well. Promises were made. Treaties were signed. But then on the eve of a particularly successful accord regarding formal integration, the Calithians had unleashed their collective might against Earth and her burgeoning colonies throughout the solar system and beyond. Death rained down on the planet, viciously and without respite. Peaceful relations wasn’t their goal. It was Earth itself.

Intelligence had delivered