Resolution: Bad Star

by M. L. Baldauf

  Resolution Bad Star 3rd edition

  © 2017 Matthew Baldauf

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  M.baldauf89@outlook.com

  ISBN: 9798734768549

  Imprint: Independently published

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Matthew Baldauf

  Author portrait by November Palmer NP Design Studios

  Acknowledgments

  Here we are again. Before you lies what has survived Resolution: Bad Star’s rounds of editing and revising since its original publication.

  Much has been learned and un-learned since my debut in 2015, but as always, this has not been a solitary journey.

  I would like to thank my wife, Louanna, for her continued support in my writing and other artistic endeavors. I would also like to thank my daughter, who was not yet born when the first edition was published, for not giving me too much grief f

  To November Palmer, my favorite photographer and graphic artist, thank you for encouraging me to learn the skills necessary to make the cover I always wanted for this book. And to Eric Palmer and Alex Ehlers, you are my artistic peers, my friends, and my brothers; the projects we have worked together on and discussed have had an enormous influence on all my art, including the second edition of this novel and the entire universe it takes place in.

  Finally, thank you to all who purchased the first edition; especially for those who, when I feel like a fraud, remind me that you’re still waiting on a sequel…working on it.

  2021 addendum: A special thanks to Eric Palmer on this third incarnation, for encouraging me to drop the pen name and take ownership of my work.

  -M. L. Baldauf

  For my daughter,

  Valencia

  Prologue

  Attack on Vega

  December 1st 2141

  1415 EST

  Approaching Vega system

  “Approaching Vega two, in approximately five minutes,” a scrawny, long haired pilot called over his shoulder. Captain Dennis Kripton snapped back from his silent musings at the crewman’s announcement and checked the antique time piece on his wrist.

  “Very good, Mister Spears. Three hours ahead of schedule. I think this calls for a celebration. When we finish unloading, I’ll open the liquor stores for the crew.” The crew members on the bridge beamed at him silently. They were a good crew, hard workers and loyal. Dennis ran his fingers through his short, greying hair. The deck plating under his feet was vibrating reassuringly in rhythm with the Cleveland Motor Company 1000c warp engine.

  Dennis' ship, the S.S. Red Witch, was 54 years old, but still holding together well. His great grandfather had used his life savings to purchase and upgrade this ship shortly after a United Nations research grant had resulted in the first warp engine capable of allowing colonization, and alleviating the overpopulation of nine billion people on earth. It had been transporting supplies, and feeding the Kripton family, ever since.

  The 50 year old engine was pulling the ship, at a theoretical speed of nearly a thousand times the speed of light, towards one of the newest colonies on Vega II. Just over 25 light-years from the Sol system, Vega II was a booming colony on the frontier. A gem of civilization at the edge of human reach.

  Dennis always loved the runs to this planet. It reminded him of how far humans had come in such a short period of time. In 2050 the U.N. had finally achieved unanimous participation and began to make major strides in sustainable technology. Less than a century of peace later, the human race was spread out over countless sovereign colonies more than 20 light years in every direction.

  The possibilities seemed endless, as only plant and animal life had been found on the few already habitable planets. The rest of the colonies were terraformed or featured modular settlements. Vega II always reminded Dennis of Earth. A crisp blue and green planet with an abundance of both urban and rural communities, but unscarred by the industrialization and war that had plagued Earth. It was Earth with a second chance.

  A klaxon blared from the helm, and Spears moved over to the display screen with concern. After a moment, his expression relaxed. “Engineering is requesting we finish the approach on sub-lights. Engine’s running hotter than he would like.”

  “What will that do to our ETA?”

  “Should take about forty-five minutes to complete the approach.”

  “Disengage the warp drive. Bring the Ion drives to full power.”

  The warp field quickly disintegrated as the ship resumed sub-light velocity. “Captain,” The helmsman gasped.

  “What is it,” Dennis said, looking up. The helmsman didn’t answer, but Dennis soon saw what had disturbed his bridge officer. In the distance, small explosions could be seen just outside the atmosphere of Vega II. “Magnify.”

  Static filled the forward viewport as the magnification screen activated. The static gave way to what should have been the pristine surface of Vega II, but instead, showed population centers clouded over by billowing black smoke, and being rained down on by strange beams of energy from the sky.

  As the view panned, it was filled with a dark shape, spinning in space. Spinning, Dennis could tell, by the glowing red accents that arched through the screen.

  “Reduce magnification,” He ordered. The image changed, and what it revealed brought his heart into his throat. A ship, of some sort. A great spike in space, at least 8000 meters in length. The red accents he had previously observed were weapons, swatting planetary defense forces out of the black like flies, and raining hellfire on the planet below.

  Dennis sank into his seat, the sounds of the bridge muffled in the rush of blood to his ears. It seemed like an eternity before his helmsman’s voice broke through the din. “Captain, what are your orders?”

  Dennis looked at Spears for a long moment, then over his shoulder at the carnage ahead. This isn’t an attack, he thought, this is defeat.

  “Abandon ship.” The words had escaped his lips before he had completed the thought. He repeated himself with more conviction when he had realized that he subconsciously came to the only move they had left. “All hands, abandon ship.”

  “Captain, abandon ship to where? Shouldn’t we turn tail and run?” Spears’ voice had an air of fear and doubt that Dennis had never heard in him before. Under the circumstances, he forgave him for it.

  Dennis firmly grasped his officer by both shoulders and feigned a smile. “Mister Spears, I leave the crew in your capable hands. When it’s over, get them planet side.”

  “When what’s over? Captain, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Not we. Me. You have your orders, Mister Spears. Get to the escape craft.” On that note, he took the seat behind the helm controls and started disabling safety protocols. In his heightened, adrenaline fueled state, he could hear his officer open his mouth to protest, but it was followed by silence. His bridge officer was intelligent, too intelligent for this line of work, Dennis had sometimes thought, and had realized what the Captain intended to do.

  “You heard the Captain. To the lifeboat, now.” Mister spears left the bridge, and the sounds of
boots on deck plating signaled that the rest of the bridge crew had followed suit. Dennis continued his work at the console. He barely glanced at the flashing orange indicator on the screen to his right, signaling that the lifeboat had disembarked.

  Continuing his work in silence, he glanced at the forward viewport and did some quick math in his head, entering the results in the nav computer. Another indicator flashed urgently, this time in red. He ignored this as well, not only by laissez faire, but entered commands into the console, coaxing the computer to share his apathy towards the fatal result of his plan.

  He unlocked the guard on the warp engine throttle and pushed it to its forward most position. Listening to the aged warp engine struggle to reach its peak power level, he pondered the unfamiliar ship ahead. He thought about the fact that he would never know what exactly had happened today. He would never know if what he was about to do would make any difference.

  A quiet high tone was emitted from the console, accompanied by a flashing pearl white indicator next to the warp engine throttle. He ran his finger over the polished surface of the switch next to it. A small grin crossed his face, but he wasn’t certain why. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes as he flicked the switch.

  * * *

  Alexander Baxton felt a pang of guilt as he was shuffled through the stirring crowd. He couldn’t look in any direction without seeing a face touched by the tragedy. The death tolls hadn’t even begun to be calculated, but one thing was for sure, the Colony President was dead. Along with…He had never counted the elected officials above him in the line of succession. That’s how low on the list he was.

  He was a representative of an outlying rural area. A visit to his constituency that day may have been the only thing that had spared him from the fate of his colleagues. He risked a glance at the crowd, and saw the soot covered faces of the people that would now be looking to him for leadership.

  The pang of guilt returned. An entire world was in mourning, and he was thinking of himself. He couldn’t help it. He had no ambitions for power and had entered politics for no other reason than to represent the community he had spent his childhood in since his parents brought him here from Earth.

  He looked up at the sky, where several hours ago, a great alien vessel, piloted by a species who had identified themselves as the Salaxians, had devastated his world, before being destroyed. The image of its destruction was burned into his memory. The few remaining planetary defense ships that had witnessed it, said it appeared that a vessel had intentionally warped directly into the coordinates the alien vessel had occupied.

  Alexander tried to summon the same courage it must have taken to make that sacrifice, hopefully to the same end; saving his people. Near the end of his procession to the New Boston City Library, the temporary government offices in light of the tragedy, a throng of reporters struggled to get close to him. He had to restrain what he felt would be an inappropriate grin. Most of them were injured, and their equipment was whatever they could get their hands on after the attack. On Vega II, everyone was committed to their trade.

  His security detail cleared a path through the reporters, up the steps of the makeshift capital building. The reporters shouted at him, a clamor of indecipherable questions. Something stopped him just before he reached the doors of the library. He felt a calling to speak; to give his displaced citizens solid ground to stand on.

  Ignoring the protests of his security detail he walked back to the reporters, who surrounded him in a semi-circle. A deathly silence fell over the crowd, waiting for words that would bring any sense to this chaotic time. He looked up at the sky one more time, seeking that evasive courage, before he spoke.

  “When we swept away the bonds of our home planet, and ventured to the stars, it was a testament to human spirit and evolution. We reached out into the universe, venerable, but determined to continue our existence, free from the horrors of our violent past. We found the universe to be all but empty, and we thought we were safe. But what happened today has forced us to face the reality, that though we as a species have learned to live in peace, we will encounter those who are not as enlightened, and will want to harm us. Since colonization of extra-terrestrial worlds began, the colonies have always enjoyed a high level of autonomy, but with a threat of this magnitude, we will not survive standing on our own. The human race must join together in mutual defense, or we will all perish. My first action as acting colony president, will be to petition the United Nations and the other colonies to form an interstellar military. Just because we have become a peaceful species, does not mean we will allow this travesty to go unanswered. ”

  The crowd erupted in applause. It didn’t mean much, but it was more than they had before. He walked away, and into the confines of the library, unknowing that his candid call to action would result in the creation of the United Nations and Colonies, and the first Human interstellar war.

  Timeline

  1985

  First resurgence begins

  2013

  “Dreams of a Dying Atheist”

  2014

  The Sanctus Vogt order of the First Resurgence forms

  2020

  First Martian colony established

  2025

  Transnational corporations fight proxy wars to fill void left by collapse of Delta Corp

  2030

  U.N. Disbanded. Contact with Martian Colony lost

  2031

  All nations officially involved in WWIII

  2040

  First states leave the United States of America and form The Great Lakes Republic. Other states follow, forming their own independent nations

  2049

  Promised Land Project complete. Last known member of the Sanctus Vogt Order (first resurgence) dies

  2050

  Reformed U.N. sees unanimous participation

  2055

  1st 10c warp engine developed. Contact with Martian colony re-established

  2056

  First colony outside of Sol system established

  2089

  Cleveland motor company develops 1000c warp engine

  2120

  Vega II colony established

  2141

  Salaxian attack on Vega II, United Nations and Colonies established

  2142

  First U.N.C. Battleship, U.N.S. Kripton completed

  2212

  2000 c warp engine developed. Keel laid for first U.N.C. assault carrier, U.N.S. Resolution

  The following narrative has been compiled from witness accounts, as well as journal entries, logs and recordings from onboard the UNS Resolution in August of 2213 (Sol Standard calendar). Some information was still considered top secret at the time of collection and as such remains redacted. The authenticity of some witness claims are still in question, but was included at the author’s discretion. The Smithsonian Museum of Interstellar History makes no claims of absolute authenticity, but sponsors this work in the hope of giving readers some insight into the people behind the events in Resolution’s short but eventful time in service.

  Chapter 1

  A tall ship

  June 1st 2213

  0800

  Sol System

  U.N.S. Resolution CV-01

  Commander John Harper stood on the flight deck of the newly constructed U.N.S. Resolution, staring absent mindedly at the glare on the nearly untouched floor. He lifted his black naval cap and slicked his dark brown hair back before firmly pulling the cap back onto his head. As he straightened his service ribbons and did a brief inspection of his dress blacks, he noticed the top of the third bar on his right sleeve was slightly frayed. He did his best not to draw attention to it, as he was conscious of the news camera pointed in his direction from his left side.

  In front of the camera was a middle aged female reporter in a retina torturing blue pant suit. He watched as her stiff blonde hair bounced with her optimistic, teleprompter fed monologue on the history of the project, and the new hope this ship instilled f
or the end of the Salaxian war.

  He knew the 72-year conflict with the Salaxians fit the dictionary definition of war, but had often felt the term was unfitting. With the exception of the “hundred years’ war,” this was the longest armed conflict in human history. Harper also found it difficult to define the exchange as a war, due to its decidedly one-sided nature. Because of the Salaxians’ unique interstellar travel technique, they had been able to attack, and return home, without being traced. For 72 years, the human race had been able to do nothing more than wait for a Salaxian assault and fight them off.

  The U.N.C. Military Council had debated sending Resolution on a scouting expedition to find the Salaxian home world, but the idea was unpopular. With no idea of the limitations of their interstellar travel, the expedition could turn out to be a waste of resources. They could very well be attacking from another galaxy.

  To Harper’s left was Captain Tavish McLeod, six feet tall and so slender that Harper often wondered how he could be seen from the side. Harper had served under McLeod for three of his four years in the U.N.C. Navy, but still found him to be an enigma. He fought a smile at the uncharacteristically disgruntled look on his commanding officer’s face. Despite being nearly completely bald, McLeod despised wearing hats. This was a trait that had frequently gotten him in trouble as a cadet nearly 25 years prior. They had now been standing on the flight deck for nearly 15 minutes, staring at the aft flight deck doors, and the Captain was growing increasingly irritated.

  A quick series of two tones came over Harper’s earpiece as Lieutenant Commander Sarah Parker, second officer and currently in command of the bridge, connected to the Captain and himself.

  “Bridge to the Captain.”

  “Go ahead,” McLeod responded, as he looked up at the observation windows of Flight Operations.

  “The fighters are leaving Langley now. Construction workers are clear, and they are ready to open the dry dock.”