CONQUEROR
Richard Tongue
CONQUEROR
Copyright © 2019 by Richard Tongue, All Rights Reserved
First Kindle Edition: March 2019
Cover by Keith Draws
With thanks to Ellen Clarke
All characters and events portrayed within this eBook are fictitious; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Prologue
Squadron Leader Jack Winter cautiously pulled his fighter into a series of tight turns to complete the test program, playing the thrusters against one another, nodding in satisfaction as it responded nimbly to his commands. He stabilized the craft again, then glanced back at his Engineer/Observer, Flight Officer Daniel Nguyen, with a smile on his face, letting his heading drift towards Golgotha. The titanic gas giant loomed beneath them, covered in endless raging storms of crimson and gold, one of her moons casting the fighter into darkness as he dived behind it, briefly blocking out the distant sun. The latest prototype of the Caledonian Aerospace Force was passing all of its tests with flying colors.
“She’s beautiful,” Winter said. “Handles like a dream. No delay to response time.” Throwing a control, he added, “Targeting sensors look good as well. I wish all our prototypes were like this.” Looking down at the trajectory plot, he continued, “We’ll be heading into the upper atmosphere in five minutes. Any reason to abort?”
With a grimace, Nguyen replied, “Aside from my natural instinct for caution, I guess not. I don’t like the idea of playing with Golgotha, Jack. Even a quick pass is risky without proper backup, and the atmospheric skip maneuver isn’t on the docket until next month. If we punch it now, we should be able to get back to the support ship in time for dinner.”
“Got another one of those hot dates planned?”
“I doubt my wife would approve,” his old friend said with a wry smile. “All I’m saying is that we’re pushing our luck a little too far for my liking. That’s all.”
“I know, but think of it this way. We’re ahead of schedule on this flight, and if we can get the atmospheric test done, we can head right for the firing ranges tomorrow, a week early. I’d like to get home in time for my kid’s graduation if possible.” He sighed, then added, “I guess I’ve missed enough of her life as it is. Hell, the main reason I transferred from Operations to Flight Test was to spend a little more time at home. I hadn’t counted on being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere for so long. The engineers are fine with it, and I talked to Bill Floyd this morning. He’s happy for us to proceed.”
“Sure he is,” Nguyen said. “Cutting this short should save a lot of money. That always makes the politicians happy.” He looked around, and added, “Is this where you thought you’d end up when you joined? Out here in the middle of nowhere testing yet another prototype that they’ll never put into production? This makes, what, five in the last three years? It’s getting a little old, buddy, and so am I.”
“You’ve got a lot of life left in you yet, and besides, most of those prototypes were dogs.”
“That didn’t stop them putting the Scimitar in production,” his friend replied with a scowl. “Ten crews dead before they finally pulled the plug on that beast. It would have been faster just lining a squadron up against the wall and bringing in a firing squad.” Gesturing at his cramped console, he added, “They still won’t spring for an upgraded operating system. My kid brother’s got more advanced kit than this in his bedroom back home.”
“You should run for office,” Winter quipped. He smiled, then said, “If you really think we aren’t ready to try this yet, then we’ll head back to the barn.”
“No, no, we’re as ready as we’re going to be, and we might as well get this over with.” Glancing at a monitor, he added, “Local conditions are pretty smooth down there at the moment anyway, probably about as good as we’re ever going to get, so we might as well proceed.” Tapping a button, he continued, “Merlin One to Archimedes. Merlin One to Archimedes. Proceeding with Stage Five atmospheric test. Repeat, we are proceeding with Stage Five atmospheric test.”
There was a brief pause, and a clipped voice replied, “Roger, Merlin One. We concur with your decision. All sensors are tracked on you, and we’ve got a rescue shuttle standing by, just in case. Hope you don’t need it.”
“Same here, Archimedes. Thanks. Merlin One out.” Looking around the cramped cockpit, Nguyen added, “What the hell sort of a name is Merlin for a fighter, anyway? Who came up with that one?”
“If the bright boys at CosmoTech have managed to design a long-range recon fighter that can fly atmospheric, they could call it Primrose and I’d still sign up to fly her. This is just what our Patrol Squadrons need if we’re going to maintain a standing garrison in the outer planets.” Before Nguyen could protest, he added, “Not to mention that we’ll probably be able to sell it all over local space. Tsukuyomi, Akala, Lemuria…”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, that’s all I’m saying,” Nguyen protested. “I have a firm sensor track, course computed and into the computers, and all stress detectors are running and recording. We’re ready to go.”
“Bringing her up to full throttle. Hang on, Danny, this is going to fun.”
“I knew it. I knew you’d say that. Next time find another observer.”
Winter smiled as he ran the engines to maximum, slowing the fighter and placing it onto a trajectory that would intersect with the atmosphere of the gas giant below. If he got it right, he’d bounce off the upper atmosphere, with enough extra boost to hurl them clear with a little help from the engines. It was an old fighter pilot’s trick to evade detection, though he didn’t remember anyone ever trying it with a gravity well this big.
He tried to imagine what it must have been like to see the planet for the first time, to have been a part of the original exploratory mission that had reached Golgotha, two centuries back, during the golden age of interstellar exploration. Sigma Draconis had proven a phenomenal haven for humanity, with two inhabitable worlds, Caledonia and Hibernia, as well as the rich rings of Tantalus, one of the most profitable resource sites for a dozen parsecs around. Colonization had begun within a decade, and soon after that, Caledonia and her sister worlds had become one of the jewels of human space. Until the wars began, battle fleets crossing the heavens in a decades-long conflict that had led to the destruction of Earth itself, and the end of the Terrestrial Republic, four generations ago.
The aftermath of the Last War left a couple of dozen self-sufficient outer colonies alone to make their own way in the universe, and even a century later, they were still struggling to catch up. Life was a lot easier now than it had been in his great-grandfather’s day, but local space was still dangerous enough, and Caledonia had been involved in half a dozen small conflicts since Independence, none of them sufficiently significant to be truly described as wars, but all of them enough to promote a slow, steady military expansion, the warring factions of the fighter-based Aerospace Force, the capital ships of the Orbital Patrol, and the moribund ground-pounders of the Territorial Guard all battling for funding.
Now the President was talking about interstellar expansion, the Progressives winning seats in the Assembly with talk of Caledonia finding its place in the galaxy. The Caledonian Republic was prosperous enough, eighty million people on the homeworld, a few more scattered across the system. Hibernia had never been as heavily populated as Caledonia, and had easily settled in as an associated state. Tantalus was another story; its Citizens Council had fought for the other side in the war, and it had only been dire necessity that had caused them to reluctantly join the Republic, fifty years ago. Now as the worlds of Sigma Draconis finally recovered, they were beginning to look to the stars once more, trading with the worlds of the dis
tant Technocratic League, the only, albeit ramshackle interstellar organization still standing.
Money was always the key. Caledonia’s ambitions had always risen faster than its treasury could support, and the new government was little different from the old one on that score. One advantage they did possess was a strong aerospace industry, a legacy from the days when Caledonia was a key base for the old Terrestrial Fleet, and if they were to truly establish themselves as a significant interstellar player, they’d have to leverage that asset for all it was worth.
“Coming up on target now,” Nguyen said. “Three minutes to atmosphere. All systems nominal.”
“Understood, I read the same here,” Winter replied, looking over his controls, making a series of quick adjustments to their course. “You heard about Tartarus? Another set of disputed elections.”
“Not those Freedom Force maniacs again,” Nguyen said with a sigh. “What happened this time?”
“Hackers cracked open the voting software, rigged it so that Julius Caesar was elected as Colonial Representative. Then started rioting and burned out a couple of government buildings. They’re talking about increasing the garrison.”
“How’d they managed to miss us for that detail? Give me Hibernia any time. Sun, sand, oceans as far as you can see.” He grinned, then added, “Think we could talk them into setting up a testing range out there?”
“I wish,” Winter replied with a chuckle. “Check your seat restraints, we’re coming up on atmospheric interface.”
Golgotha now dominated the screen, the endless clouds stretched out beneath them, and he turned the craft around, the deceleration transformed to acceleration as he sought to gain additional control for the transit. An amber light snapped on, and he glanced at the hull temperature monitor, the levels already beginning to rise as the first tendrils of the toxic air below lapped at the heat shield.
“Getting some good structural data,” Nguyen reported, looking up at his readouts. “Not quite up to the promises of the designers, but well within safety limits.” He frowned, then added, “Something’s wrong with the long-range sensors, though. I’m getting some ghosting behind Eusebius.”
“That’s the moon with the rings, right?” Winter asked. “It’s highly metallic, if I remember right. Probably causing some distortion. We’ll run a calibration cycle when we pull out of the dive.” He carefully adjusted the pitch again, his eyes locked on the heat flow, trying to make sure that the systems were reacting as they should, that their angle would give them the perfect skip trajectory they needed.” He paused, then added, “Keep an eye on it, though.”
“Yeah, I’m on it.” Frowning, he said, “Strong for a ghost image. I should contact Archimedes…”
“Not now,” Winter replied. “We’re into the plasma sheath. You won’t be able to get a signal through.” Flames began to lick at the sides of the ship, the temperature soaring as the heat shield reddened. The fighter was surrounded by a fiery plume as they continued their descent, slamming into the clouds, the engine still roaring to guide them onto the correct glide path. He could see the endless horizon all around, the turbulent, unceasing storms raging in the distance, cracks of lightning periodically piercing the air.
After a nerve-wracking moment, the altimeter started to rise once more, and he nodded in satisfaction, the controls responding perfectly, just as they should. They’d run dozens of simulations back home, but there was still no substitute for the real test, the conclusion of the month-long testing program. All that remained were the combat tests, using the new weapons package being completed back home, the pulsar cannons at the heart of the ship. He looked down at the darkened controls and smiled, relishing the chance he’d have to take part in simulated dogfights when he got back.
“Coming through the upper layers of the atmosphere,” he said. “Temperature falling.”
“Hull stress readings were a little higher than we’d expected, but nothing to worry about. We’ll take some samples of the heat shield when we get back, start work on the reports while the lab team is running the analysis.” He paused, and said, “Those sensor ghosts are still there. If anything, they’re stronger than before.”
Tapping a control, Winter said, “Merlin One to Archimedes. Come in, Archimedes.” He paused, then repeated, “Merlin One to Archimedes. Come in, Archimedes. Reply at once. Reply at once.” Turning to Nguyen, he said, “Scan for Archimedes.”
“What?”
“Do it. There’s something very wrong here.”
“You mean other than a catastrophic series of systems malfunctions. I said they should have come up with a new software update. You can only polish the same…,” he paused, looked at his readouts again, and said, “I’m reading a debris field where Archimedes was. Consistent with its orbital location. Computers project detonation happened about two hundred and ten seconds ago, while we were in the plasma sheath.”
“Hit the distress beacon. Tie in all the power you can spare.” He looked at the trajectory plot, and said, “Not much in the way of reserves. I used up more than I would have liked in that little dive. I think I’ve got enough for a close flyby of Eusebius if I’m careful.” He frowned, then added, “Not as if there’s anywhere else to go in this system anyway. What about our lifesystem status?”
“Six days, maybe a little more if we push it, but it’s not going to be particularly pleasant in this cockpit if we have to wait around even half that long, even with the expandable module.” He paused, then said, “Those images are gone. They were getting a little close to the horizon. You think someone’s decided to hit Archimedes?”
“That does look like the most likely explanation, doesn’t it,” Winter replied. “Squawk that distress signal as loud as you can, Danny. If there’s anyone close by, I want them to know what happened here.”
“You realize that thing is omnidirectional, right? I can’t tight-beam a signal, even if I knew who I was sending it to. That makes us a pretty obvious beacon for anyone lurking out there in the sensor shadows.”
“I’m aware of that,” he replied. “In fact, I’m counting on it. Override the usual message, and start dumping in all our sensor readings, on a live stream. Someone with better interpretation software might spot something we missed.”
“Doing it,” Nguyen said, his hands dancing over the unfamiliar controls. “I’ve got a new course for you, keeping nice and low, close to the surface. We’re going to have to shed a lot of speed, though.”
“Not a problem,” Winter replied. “Punch it in.” The course flickered onto his heads-up display, and once again he turned the fighter around, smoothly playing the thruster controls, the engines roaring loudly in the cockpit as he ramped up the deceleration to make their rendezvous with the rocky worldlet ahead. Eusebius was a barren, desolate moon, only the faint ring around its equator making it stand out from any one of a thousand similar bodies just in this system. There’d been periodic attempts to start settlements on the surface, either for resource exploitation or tourism, but none of them had ever come to anything. As far as he’d known, the only humans out here had been those in his fighter and Archimedes, their support ship. Just thirty-nine people, and based on the readings still streaming in, that number was down to only two.
The minutes crept away as he tweaked his course, periodically glancing at his sensor displays. There was nothing they could do if there were any hostiles in the area, his weapons package replaced with ballast to compensate for the weight while they made last minute tweaks to the pulsar cannons back home. Not that he’d want to take on anything powerful enough to destroy even a support tender that quickly. The Merlin was designed for fast, long-range reconnaissance, not for attack. It had been quite apparent at an early stage of the design process that if she got into a firefight, it meant that some senior officer had made a terrible, terrible mistake.
Winter hadn’t expected to be that senior officer.
“Something coming over the horizon now. Getting much better resolution now,” Nguy
en said. “Large ship. Looks kinda familiar. I’m running it through the database.” He paused, his eyes widening, and added, “It’s a Conqueror-class Cruiser! No IFF coding, but she’s displaying Terran livery. I don’t get it.”
“If some raiders managed to get hold of an old Terran warship, we’re in trouble,” Winter replied. “Though I don’t know why the hell they’d be hitting us here.” He paused, then added, “The prototype. The tests weren’t that secret. It wouldn’t have been hard to find out what we were planning. Damn it all, I knew we should have insisted on a real fighter escort.” Looking down at his controls, he added, “Have they seen us?”
“If I can see them, they’re probably seeing us,” Nguyen replied. “Second ship now coming over the horizon. Triton-class Assault Transport. Same liveries. Want to know something crazier?”
“Better make it quick, I think we’re running out of time,” Winter said.
“Sensor readings suggest they’re both less than five years old. They can’t be relic ships. Jack, if someone’s building these ships again, that means they’ve got a substantial shipbuilding capacity. We’d struggle to build a Trident, still less a Conqueror. We’re having enough trouble putting together a decent scout corvette.” Nguyen cursed, then said, “The cruiser’s launching fighters. Not Terran, this time. Hawks, I think. Pretty old design.”
“Sure, but we’re a sitting duck for them regardless.” He looked at the moon below, tall mountains reaching for the sky, and said, “Have you got a map of the surface in your database? I want to know where the last attempt at a settlement is located, as close as you can reckon it.”
After a few seconds, his friend replied, “Crater City, two domes, abandoned ten years ago after two years’ occupancy. It’s not far off our current trajectory.” He paused, then added, “Jack, what are you planning?”
“Ejection systems test,” he said. “The gravity’s low enough that we ought to be able to make a soft-landing, and as long as we can get within a few miles of the base, we’ve got somewhere to hide until the cavalry arrives.”
Conqueror Page 1