Showing results by author "Andrew Beery" in All Categories

Opportunities there are few and far between…that is unless you're willing to put on a uniform. For ace-pilot Deborah Allen Riker (a.k.a “Admiral Dare”), life had never been easy. She's defended Earth against countless enemies, both alien and human alike. Now a civilian and academic living on the fringes of civilized space, she has committed herself to a life of solitude and studying a race of long-dead aliens. Everything was great…until she finds herself dragged into a new conflict. A conflict she never saw coming.

It’s odd the way some things work out. You expect to wake up dead, and instead, you wake up to the beautiful face of your wife. I was understandably confused. I had died…or at least I sure as heck thought I had. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I’ve been alive for a number of years now, and to be honest…I’m quite fond of it. I just didn’t understand "how" I was alive. My name is Fleet Admiral Jeremy Riker…but my friends call me Dog. This is my story.

2067 was the year I died for the first time. It was painful. Had I known how often I'd be expected to die over the next several millennia, I might have made a stronger effort to stay dead. The year actually started off rather nice. I finished my PhD in high energy physics and was promoted to lieutenant commander in the United States Air Force. My first posting after the promotion was to the Lunar One Air Base where I worked with my father, Dr. Robert Kimbridge, on "The Project".

An imperfect hero for an imperfect time. For generations, Riker men have been the best of the best. For the Battleborn that comes with a cost. I spit out the blood in my mouth. I had to give the other guy credit. That was a fine right hook. Every bit as good as my mom used to give me. Of course, the best right hooks were the ones I landed on the other guy rather than the ones the other guy landed on me. My dear departed mother had always taught me it was better to give than receive.

The complete Battleborn saga in one volume! An imperfect hero for an imperfect time. For generations, the Riker men have been the best of the best. For the Battleborn, that comes with a cost.

Did you ever wake up wondering where you were…and perhaps equally important, how you got there? Yeah, me too. The only the thing is, it usually happens when I've been drinking…and I'd been dry for the better part of two years. I'm Commodore Jeremy David Riker…my friends call me JD or just plain “Dog.” I have the dubious honor of running a starship boneyard in the middle of nowhere. 

Opportunities there are few and far between...that is, unless you're willing to put on a uniform. For ace-pilot Deborah Allen Riker (aka “Admiral Dare”), life had never been easy. She's defended Earth against countless enemies, both alien and human alike. Now she's retired. Committed to a life of solitude and studying the aliens she spent a lifetime fighting...until she finds herself dragged into a new conflict. A conflict she never saw coming.

You know, there are some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. This was one of those days. My head hurt. There was blood everywhere. My ship was shot full of holes and leaking more gases and fluids than a 1976 Chevy Vega...the one with an aluminum block. I should have just pulled the sheets up and rolled over when I had the chance.... 

Suddenly on the far side of the Milky Way, Admiral Deborah Allen Riker and her crew find themselves neck-deep in trouble...again! It turns out the galaxy is a very dangerous place. Threats come in all shapes and sizes. For Admiral Dare, peace and protecting the innocent is the price of being human. It is a precious commodity that must be paid for with the blood and tears of those willing and able to fight for it.

I was drifting alone in intergalactic space...in a suit of busted up Battleborn armor. My oxygen was almost gone. No power. No heat. I was freezing. The only question left to be answered in my life was the manner of my death. Would I suffocate...or die of hypothermia?

Newly reinstated Captain Deborah Allen Riker (a.k.a. Admiral Dare) has been called many things over the years. Risk-averse is not one of them. When she and her badly crippled starship found themselves lost in the middle of an ocean of uncharted stars, with the fate of the galaxy on the line, facing enemies from the past, present, and future.... She did what any Riker would do....She attacked.

It’s odd the way some things work out. You expect to wake up dead, and instead, you wake up to the beautiful face of your wife. I was confused. I had died...or at least I sure as heck thought I had. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I’ve been alive for a number of years now and to be honest...I’m quite fond of it. I just didn’t understand "how" I was alive. My name is Fleet Admiral Jeremy Riker...but my friends call me Dog. This is the rest of my story.

A general in the United States Army by the name of William Thornson once said, "There are only two kinds of people that understand Marines: Marines and the enemy. Everyone else has a second-hand opinion." I've come to believe the general was wrong. I say that because no enemy in his right mind would remain the enemy of a Marine...if...he truly understood the Marines. Of course, the universe is filled with crazy people and in my occupation I got to meet more than my fair share of them.

Wars with aliens make for strange bedfellows. Five hundred years ago I died. In most cases that would have been the end of it. The thing is, I didn't stay dead. Well, actually I did, but more to the point my mind woke up in brand spanking new, state-of-the-art cloned body custom built by the Imperium to fight the B'dar. This is my story. This is the future history of me.

I watched as the alien weapon’s neutronium hull fractured and then exploded. The antimatter-driven explosion engulfed the remaining three ships. Even neutronium is not impervious to antimatter. In one final act of love, my wife had saved us. A piece of my heart died that day in the Paradise system. In a way, the wound never healed. I learned to live with it. I raised our son as best I could. I carried out the mission. But I missed the woman who represented everything good in my life.

Personal Log: 2488 was the year the Galactic Coalition of Planets was reborn. The original birth of the GCP many centuries ago was a painful process... I know... I was there. Her rebirth was no different. The result, however was a new creation… a creation that learned from past injustices and was the stronger for it. The new Galactic Coalition of Planets would survive for a thousand years… and I would live to see most of it. 

This morning was no different than any number of other mornings, except for one small detail, I had no idea where I was. In fact, there were a lot of little things I didn't know: Who was I? Why was I here? How come I was so hungry? And what the hell was that smell? 

Personal Log: 2486 was the first year of my new life. It was a step 301 years further into my future. The GCP Yorktown taskforce, which included the GCP Mador, the GCP Exeter, and the GCP Relentless, had traveled 3.5 billion years into the distant past in order to save the universe from a war that threatened its very existence. In the process we changed the very course of history. The world we returned to was barely recognizable.

By any reasonable definition, this was a bad day. My parents and sister were on Mars when the planet died. I watched it happen and could do nothing. That type of thing changes a man.

Personal Log: 2487 was the year the Yorktown Taskforce brought the Replicant War home to the Ashtoreth. Our enemy was faster, stronger and more ruthless than we were. In the end, none of those things mattered. We were willing to die...repeatedly for what was right and just. In the end, light always wins out over the darkness.