Galaxy Under Siege
Page 1
GLADIATRIX OF THE GALAXY BOOK: 4
THE CHRONICLES OF
JEGRA
Galaxy Under Siege
Table of Contents
Title Page
TRISTAN VICK
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
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29
30
31
32
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38
39
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42
Epilogue
JEGRA WILL RETURN IN: | The Chronicles of Jegra: Galaxy at War
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TRISTAN VICK
A REGOLITH PUBLICATIONS BOOK
The Chronicles of Jegra: Galaxy Under Siege
Gladiatrix of the Galaxy: Book 4
By Tristan Vick ©2019. All Rights Reserved
Published by Regolith Publications
First Edition, copyright © September 28, 2019.
Edited by Sheila Shedd
Cover art by Jackson Tjota
Interior book design by Tristan Vick
www.tristanvick.com
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people without the permission of the publisher or author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in the novel are products of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-1-950106-06-6
ISBN-10: 1-950106-06-6
ISBN-13: 978-1984066053
ISBN-10: 1984066056
GALAXY UNDER SIEGE
1
ISS lingered above the translucent shroud of Earth’s thin, luminescent atmosphere. Although hidden behind the swirling, blue and white orb, the warm radiance of the sun’s backlighting gradually collected along the circumference of the planet until it condensed into an incandescent halo of gold. A split second later, the halo flared brightly, exploding outward in a brilliant sunburst that crested over the mantle of the blue planet.
A new dawn washed over the continents and oceans of Earth, revealing a world rich in life and beauty. High above the waking planet, the ISS cut across the radiance of the morning star and shot into the dark gulf of the great expanse as it followed its embowed trajectory.
The sunlight gleamed off the solar panels and danced across the aluminum alloy hull of the station. Beheld from afar, the ISS sparkled like a diamond set against a dark sea sprinkled with a hundred thousand other sparkling gems; many of them billions of years older than Earth.
The station’s crew was made up of two Americans—one man and one woman—along with a single Japanese gentleman, an Indian woman, and two Chinese, also one male and one female. The crew of six wafted about the various interconnected modules in zero-gravity and busied themselves in preparation for the Mars One resupply mission which would be arriving with new faces and supplies within approximately eleven minutes.
Captain Thomas Michael Drange floated over toward the view portal passing through the cabin effortlessly as his forward momentum brought him to the large glass window. Reaching out, he grabbed onto the padding around the window frame and caught himself, the change in force causing his legs to swing downward as he looked out the glass portal.
Drange steadied himself by hooking his toes under a yellow handle near the base of the inner hull. Then looking out the window he made visual confirmation of the inbound rocket. The rocket had passed the Karman line and was gradually making her way to them, right on schedule.
He smiled then reached up and pushed himself off the glass and spun weightlessly back toward the main cabin. Tom needed to get to the controls and man the station’s docking arm to help secure the two vessels.
The Ares III spacecraft would arrive courtesy of a Super Heavy booster rocket. It would dock with the station and drop off additional equipment and supplies to the ISS crew before heading on to resupply the Mars Colony One installation.
Besides anticipating the resupply, Tom was looking forward to seeing the captain of the Ares again, one lovely Ms. Karina Nazimova. She was Russian-born but moved as a child to the United States with her father and mother.
Her father was the famed Anton Nazimova, expert rocket engineer. After being laid off by the Russian space agency, whose space program had been gradually shrinking over the decades, he’d secured a job with NASA and moved his family to the United States. Karina was only four years old when they arrived stateside. Viewed as a defector, however, Russia smeared Anton Nazimova’s name up and down the World Wide Web making him out to be a villain rather than the brilliant scientist he truly was.
Tom knew all this because during flight academy he and Karina had dated for a stint. After their mutual separation, both putting their careers ahead of their personal lives, they remained on friendly terms with one another.
Karina getting command of the Ares III was a big deal. And he was glad it went to her. With as hard as she’d worked for it, she more than deserved it.
Not only was she perfectly suited for the job, she joined a long line of famous female astronauts like Peggy Whitson and Pamela Melroy, who both commanded highly critical space missions. Karina was an excellent officer and a brilliant astronaut. Tom couldn’t think of a person better suited for command.
Even so, if he was being completely honest, he did feel a slight twinge of envy. After all, the Ares III was the most advanced spacecraft that humans had ever built. It was NASA’s very first nuclear-powered space vessel and coming in three times longer and with twice as much cargo capacity as Ares II, it was the Ferrari of all interplanetary ships ever built.
In fact, Tom practically salivated over the specs of that ship every time he looked at the schematics. To him, it was like ogling a pinup girl from an old Playboy magazine, but a hell of a lot sexier.
With a skilled crew complement of thirty, naturally, the Ares III was outfitted with everything from a full-sized gym to a botanical biosphere, which helped supply fresh food for extended missions. The biosphere also acted as a carbon monoxide filter, assisting the ship’s scrubbers in recycling air. A natural air-freshener for the ship, if you will.
Additionally, plants were frequently transferred down to the greenhouses on the Martian surface, providing additional food for the astronauts living there.
Hovering above the space station’s control room for the docking arm, Tom let his legs dangle in the air behind him as he flipped on the automated targeting and took a hold of the dual joysticks. “Ares III, I have you on the monitor. Please cut your momentum thrusters and switch to maneuvering only.”
The ship continued coming in hot and Tom raised an eyebrow.
“They don’t appear to be slowing down,” Dr. Iwasaki said as he gazed out the same view portal that Tom had been looking out of moments prior.
“This is the ISS calling Ares III. Cut your thrusters and prepare for ship-to-ship docking. Do you copy?”
Still, no response.
Tom and Iwasaki shared a nervous glance then slowly turned their heads and looked out the view portal in time to see the white spray of compressed gas explode out of the nose of the Ares as she ignited her reverse thrusters.
Relieved, the two men let out a nervous sigh as the ship slowed to a near halt. A few more short spurts and the two ships came into nearly perfect alignment. It was definitely Karina’s trademark flying: one part daredevil and two parts showoff.
“This is the Ares III,” Karina Nazimova’s voice came across the comm, “requesting permission to dock.”
“Cutting it a little close there, don’t you think?” Captain Drange asked with a chuckle. Then he added, “Permission granted.”
Hands at the controls of the robotic arms, he reached out with the clawed arms and took ahold of the coupling unit of the Ares III, guiding it toward their airlock. There was a loud clunk as the ships came together, the mechanical sound of the docking clamps, and finally the magnetic seal locking into place.
Tom turned toward astronaut Melissa Thompson and motioned her to accompany him to the airlock to greet their guests. She was happy to do so, too, as she wanted to confront Captain Nazimova and remind her about the standard ship-to-ship docking procedures which she had clearly ignored.
As they floated up the access junction toward the airlock, Tom thought about the Ares III’s mission. It was on its way to Mars Colony One with parts and supplies. Karina’s mission was twofold. First, they were going to swing by the ISS and resupply the station, including providing additional food, lab equipment, and two fresh astronauts.
After their twelve-hour pit-stop aboard, they’d proceed on to their final destination where, after seven months of space flight, they’d arrive in orbit around Mars.
Once there, they’d take a shuttle down to the surface and join their fellow astronauts in studying the Red Planet for the next three years. The Ares III would become a space station, hovering above the planet, providing vital research assistance and acting as an orbital resupply vessel for the duration of the mission.
Arriving at the hatch, Tom caught the handle and lurched to a stop, his body swaying in the zero gravity. Thompson, who was close behind, grabbed onto some cargo netting and slowed herself down so she didn’t collide with him.
When the orange light above the door changed to green, Tom used a foothold to keep himself in place then pulled down on the latch to the airlock.
The round door rolled opened smoothly and with very little effort, as both ships had matched each other’s pressure. Once fully retracted, Thompson reached down and tugged the lever back up, securing the door into place.
She turned to Tom to give him a thumbs up when, without warning, Karina Nazimova shot past her. In fact, she almost collided with Captain Drange as she raced by, pulling herself into the space station and then hurtling up the corridor like a dart.
“Wait! Commander Nazimova, what are you doing?” Thompson called out, getting a bit red under the collar. “You have to follow protocol!”
“Commander?” Tom called out inquisitively, using his no-nonsense captain’s voice. As much as he knew that Thompson wanted him to reprimand her, the fact remained that you didn’t get hired as the lead astronaut for a critical mission by slacking on the rules. If Karina was breaking protocol, it was his bet that she likely had a damned good reason.
“Apologies, Captain,” she called back. “I’ll explain everything when I get the chance. But right now I need you and your crew to gather your essentials and get aboard the Ares III asap.”
“Are you ordering us to evacuate the ISS, Commander?” asked Thompson in a skeptical voice.
“That’s exactly what I’m ordering you to do.” Karina floated up to the control station that Tom had been at moments earlier and, finding the keyboard, began typing in some code.
The keys clacked under her fingers and then an automated voice came onto the comm system. [*Automated self-destruct sequence in T-30 minutes.*]
“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? Commanding officer or not, I’m going to need you to stop what you’re doing and give me your mission codes.” Thompson kicked off the wall and flew across the cabin to try and stop the commander, but she bumped shoulders with Karina, who simply nudged her out of the way.
Slowly spiraling away from the commander, arms flailing, she tried to grasp onto Karina’s sleeve. Thompson finally caught some electronic paneling and halted her freewheeling spin. She pushed off the wall and floated back to the control panel.
Back at the keyboard, she attempted to disarm the auto self-destruct and frowned when the computer didn’t respond to her override codes. “Dammit! I’m locked out.”
“You better have a damn good explanation for all this,” Captain Drange growled. He eyed Karina sternly, but she casually unzipped her flight suit, reached into her overalls, and pulled out what looked like two, over-sized, red plastic dog tags. She tossed them to Thompson, who caught them and then, with a crack, snapped each red tab in half.
Thompson pulled out two slips of plastic, one red and one blue, and overlaid them. A series of green letters and symbols appeared on the previously innocuous seeming pieces of plastic. A code.
“What is it?” Tom asked.
Thompson looked up at him. “It’s the evacuation codes, sir,” she answered.
He floated over to her and checked the codes himself. Sure enough, it was an order to abandon ship.
As they were confirming the codes, Karina simply glided over to the view portal and peered out at Earth.
“No, no, no...” she whispered to herself. “I thought we’d have more time.”
“More time for what?” Iwasaki asked, having overheard her. He sidled up beside her and peered out at the same glorious vista. Soon everyone was curious as to what they were looking at and crowded around the window.
Even doctor Asima and the two Chinese astronauts, Zhi Cheung and Quan Jing, who were watching the drama unfold with interest, decided to come over and join them. As they gathered around, one thing became abundantly clear, their order to abandon ship wasn’t about leaving the space station. It was about leaving Earth.
“Oh, my god!” Asima gasped, scarcely able to believe her own eyes. Almost as soon as she’d taken another breath, her lip began to quiver and tears flooded into the corners of her deep brown eyes.
They all watched with dreadful astonishment as giant, orange glowing fissures opened up on the planet’s surface.
Explosions of magma began shooting up into the air, and a daisy chain of events followed as every single active volcano on the planet’s surface began to erupt simultaneously. It made the fatal eruption of Pompeii look like a child’s baking soda experiment by comparison.
As dark ash and smoke rose into the atmosphere, forming dark, billowing, ominous clouds that threatened to blot out the sun entirely, the crew all had the same terrible sinking feeling in their guts. This wasn’t just a disaster; this was an act of God. This was cataclysmic.
“What is going on down there?” Asima Krishnan asked in a low, steady voice. She spun around and fixed her exacting gaze on Karina. Following her lead, the rest of the crew turned to Karina too, hoping she’d have the answers.
“Look,” Karina said, scanning all the stunned faces, “I don’t have time to explain right now. We need to get aboard the Ares III and get our asses to Mars. That’s our only hope.”
“Only hope for what?” Tom raised an eyebrow as he stared at Karina with one inquisitive eye slightly larger, slightly more intense than the other.
“Our only hope of survival,” she replied in a solemn tone that sent a shiver down his spine.
2
A sandy moon wrapped in a cerulean veil of oxygen rich atmosphere hung above the blue and green swirling mass that defined the Dagon homeworld.
Wi
th the recent sanctions placed on the homeworld by the Nyctan-Nephilim Fusion, however, very few ships came and went. The enemy had effectively laid siege to the entire planet. Those that tried to leave without authorization were shot down by the massive Nyctan and Nephilim battle cruisers that hung in the distance, monitoring vigilantly for signs of rebellion.
Authorized travel was only granted to small freighters shuttling supplies back and forth between Dagon Prime and Thessalonica, its moon. Being primarily a desert world, it didn’t have the resources necessary to sustain itself. As such, cargo ships were allowed to resupply the moon, sparsely, but as needed. Random inspections by Nyctan security patrols ensured that nothing but the absolute most necessary supplies ever made it to the moon. And nothing ever made it back down to the surface of the planet except empty containers.
Raphine pulled back on the joystick of the Falcon, heavy drop ship and climbed toward the greenish-blue atmosphere of Thessalonica. As the ship peaked above the wispy clouds and stalled in the stratosphere, she glanced up at the encroaching darkness and glimpsed the outline of a massive Nyctan Vespa class destroyer lingering above the moon. Her ship’s thrusters choked on the thin atmosphere and she rolled the sluggish craft over onto its back and guided the ship back toward the surface.
White vapor trails looped themselves into a figure eight as they trailed the Falcon dropship back down toward the rolling dunes and patchwork of oasis settlements scattered across the moon’s surface. Water-evaporators, which syphoned the precious liquid from deep inside the moon and turned it into breathable air, exuded a constant stream of white spray that replenished the Thessalonica’s atmosphere.
Out of the cockpit canopy, she watched as a series of small explosions flashed in sequence down on the surface. She knew it could be only one thing: Danica had finally tracked down her bounty.
Raphine smiled to herself and then flipped on the autopilot. She’d circle above the disturbance like a Torvian hawk circling high above an unsuspecting field mouse, and monitor the situation. If things went south, she’d swoop down, supply cover fire, and evacuate Danica out of there ASAP.