Frontier's End: A Seth Donovan Novel

by Jim C. Wilson

  I looked him over. He was an Orlii, sheepish and small of stature. If he was here, though, he had to be brave. That was good enough for me.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Glenris,” I said, holding out my hand to shake.

  He put the mug into my hand instead of shaking it, which caused Hieron to chuckle.

  “Sir,” he said in a small voice, “the…the pleasure is all mine.”

  “How old are you?” I said.

  “Nineteen, sir.”

  “You wanted to be on the Restitution?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “I owe you everything, sir. Seemed the only way I could start to repay you.”

  “I didn’t do what I did so that people could repay me.”

  “I understand, sir, but this seemed right.”

  “You’re okay with helping me out…in a domestic sense, I suppose?”

  “Any way I can be useful, sir, I’m happy to help.”

  “Okay, know how to use an autochef?”

  “I’ve taken night classes on Collumus Station, sir. I can program over a hundred different recipes and beverages. I can press and clean uniforms, I can clean your cabin…”

  “Okay, Glenris. Let’s just keep it to meals, for now. I don’t…” I stopped mid-sentence as I caught Martine’s glare, “Alright, I suppose that will free up my time a little. “

  “Thank you, sir!” he said, bobbing his head as he backed away.

  When he was gone, I turned to Martine. She was shaking her head at me with her hands on her hips.

  “What?” I said.

  “Have you seen the state of your cabin?”

  “I…what’s wrong with it?”

  “It looks like a bachelor’s dorm.”

  “Well, I…yes I suppose I have been a little too busy to clean up recently.”

  Lt Reza’k made her way onto the command deck while we talked. I nodded to her in greeting. She looked to Martine, her feathery eyebrows raised.

  “Did he take the steward?” she asked.

  “The coffee mug did it.”

  She looked pleased. “Good.”

  “Were you two conspiring against me?” I said.

  “If you’re going to be a proper Protectorate Commander,” lectured Reza’k, “You need to act like it. Publicly and privately.”

  I looked over at Hieron, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I’ve been living with women for over ninety years. I’m housebroken, lad. It’s easier to just do what they want, believe me.”

  “For once, I agree with him,” said Reza’k.

  I threw my hands up in mock surrender. “A mutiny! On my own ship!”

  How often I’d heard those words, spoken to me by Maxine or Captain Garner, I began to feel a sense of familiarity. I could feel myself starting to bond with this crew. We’d started to banter, the best way I knew to remain sane in high-stress environments. I somehow felt that despite my initial misgivings that we’d turn out okay, after all.

  “Sir!” came a cry from the operations deck, “Subspace communications coming online!”

  “Relay it to the command suite,” I ordered, dashing over to the table.

  At first, I looked at the table in confusion. Normally, Rego handled the operation. When Martine saw me hesitate, she called out to a nearby crew member monitoring another console. He sat down and manipulated a few controls and the table sprang to life. Next chance I get, I said to myself, I’ll learn how to use this thing myself.

  “It’s a battlenet recording, sir. Relayed through the comm buoys.”

  “How old?”

  “Seventy-eight minutes, sir.”

  I turned to Martine. “Does that fit with our schedule?”

  I could see her gazing into nothing, reading reports on her overlay. “It fits, Kekkin should be either exfiltrated by now or have reported failure of objectives.”

  “How long before we have to choose to engage or do another lap?” I asked.

  “Twenty-eight minutes.”

  Rego entered the command deck and replaced the crewman at the suite controls.

  “Give me the last fifteen minutes. Spatial view for now.”

  Rego nodded and played with the controls. In moments he had a split view of all three squads as they were in the middle of combat.

  “Give me audio of squad leaders and Kekkin.”

  Kekkin’s squad was making their way down a passageway in pairs, trading fire as they went with a pursuing force of security people and synthetics. Bravo team was dropping down the main access corridor that ran the length of the ship – a large, central space that allowed rapid transit between decks on any level. As they dropped, slowed by their thruster packs, they fired at several drones that were harassing them. They were down a man, but otherwise, that was the only casualty I could see. Charlie squad was welding several hatches shut in the large hangar deck. Their mission to secure the hangar had already been a success.

  “Can we take it back by squad? I want to see if the individual objectives were a success. Alpha first.”

  The image around Kekkin grew, pushing the other two out of frame. The action rewound several minutes.

  “There! Play from here.”

  The image showed Kekkin and his squad mates perform a textbook breach of a compartment. As charges blew apart the access hatches at two points, the squad filed in and split up, shooting several Corporates within seconds. As the compartment came into focus, I could see several large booths and console stations. The marines started to place charges and I realised they had used the last of them.

  “Looks like they’ve already hit the magazine and manufactories. This must be the railgun control room.”

  Rego nodded. “That’s a Massilov Stone Burner control station. See those waveguides? They feed sensor data to the munitions for targeting parameters.”

  When the squad was finished, Kekkin ordered everyone out. As the last to leave, he pulled a hatch shut behind him. The compartment disappeared from the image, but the sound of the charges was unmistakeable.

  “Alpha team objectives secure,” said Kekkin, “Moving to Charlie squad. Bravo leader, report.”

  “Bravo objectives secure,” came Renthal’s voice, “Urals is down, ran into Frikk reinforcements.”

  “Do you need support, Bravo?”

  “Negative, Alpha, mopping up the last of them now.”

  “Roger, proceed to Charlie when you can.”

  “Roger, Alpha.”

  “Charlie,” barked Kekkin, “Report!”

  “Hangar secure,” said Harris, “Minimal resistance. Fortifying commenced. Sending access points to you now.”

  “Receiving. Send those to Bravo leader, too.”

  “Isn’t he coming down the pipe?”

  “That’s the plan, but warrior always needs a backup.”

  “Roger.”

  I blew out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. They’d done it. “Bring us up to when they meet up in the hangar. We need to see if they made it out of there.”

  The image fast-forwarded several minutes, stopping when the image showed all the squads in the hangar. Rego slowed the recording down to regular speed and we started watching again as Kekkin set up a defensive guard in the hangar.

  Harris had sealed most of the access hatches to the hangar, but the Corporates were trying to cut their way through the bulkheads and hatches. As openings were made, Kekkin and his marines fought back, cutting down dozens of synthetics and Corporate mercs. Why hadn’t he launched from the hangar already?

  Eventually, the counter attack slowed as the Corporates pulled back to reassess their strategy for taking back the hangar. Kekkin used the break to address a nearby marine’s comm unit.

  “Commander,” said Kekkin into the marine’s helmet feed, “Warriors destroyed railgun and propulsion but were unable to reach the Xerxes’ point defence controls. Suspect they’re located on the bridge. Too risky. Can’t launch exfil shuttle just yet. Will hold until Restit
ution makes initial strike. Will mark IFF of shuttle with the following code…”

  Rego perked up. “Logging the code into fire control systems. We won’t shoot him down, at least. If he makes it out of there, anyway.”

  “…sending the sensor data from the Dreaming, count fourteen contacts in escort. Repeat, fourteen escorts. Three Destroyers, two Corvettes, nine merc Transport class ships. One docking platform, two battery hardpoints.”

  “Feed that to the operations deck,” I said, “Let’s get a situation prepared and start assigning targets for our strike.”

  I turned to Martine, who was looking nervous, but resolute. “I want firing solutions as soon as we have visual. Drones will deploy immediately after the first salvo, keep them on point defence until we’re approaching periapsis. We should have their attention by then. We’re going to come around too fast after that for us to collect them, so make sure we get them back on board before we complete the flyby.”

  The initial strike was going to be easy, relatively, it was the second engagement that had me worried. We needed to inflict as much damage as we could to the Xerxes in as short a time as possible. Our initial plan was still to force the Captain of the Xerxes to surrender, we were hoping the strike would give him pause before ordering his allies to defend him. It was only him we wanted, after all. On the recommendation of Reza’k, we would broadcast on all channels our terms of surrender, the warrant and a promise of amnesty for all Corporate allied forces who withdrew without engaging. It was Hieron who advised we add a threat of destruction for all those who chose to defend the Xerxes.

  I approached the rail overlooking the operations deck.

  “Comms, open a channel on main broadcast, please. I wish to address the crew.”

  “Channel open, sir!”

  “All hands, this is the Commander speaking. As we approach our first engagement, I’d like to share a few words. I don’t know what I need to say to put your fears at ease or to put steel into your hearts, but I know that you do have that steel. I saw it as we escaped Gossamer. I saw it on the walls in Ambrose University, and in the plaza below the space elevator. Take a look around you, at those you work with. Not all of you were there, but it still takes guts to volunteer on a ship such as this. You all know what our mission is and what’s at stake. This may be a detour, but it’s necessary. We can’t live in a galaxy that allows Corporate greed to dictate our futures. We need to show these Corporates that the Protectorate is serious about its mandate. That we’re serious about our mandate.

  “We put these Corporates in their place, and when we leave it will be a safer Network for all. Safer to go after the Ghantri and stop them from waking up their dead gods.”

  40.

  “Thirty seconds to visual range,” reported Martine.

  I was back in my command chair, eagerly watching the big screens about the bridge. Rego had relayed local sensor information to the bridge screen projectors, and now the space above the operations deck was a massive holographic image of the coming battlefield.

  I glanced to my left and right, confirming for the umpteenth time the status indicators of the various sections of the ship. I pressed the main broadcast control.

  “All hands, secure to acceleration couches! Entering combat range in two minutes.”

  As we rounded Eovan, real-time updates started to appear, correcting the placement of earlier contacts.

  “Comms!” I called, “Start the broadcast! Helm, turn to green three-zero!”

  The shuddering of the ship lessened as we left the immediate gravity well of Eovan and broke free of its orbit. It took a couple of seconds, but the mercs surrounding the organo-ship sprang into action.

  The Destroyers, almost as well armed as the Restitution, would pose a problem in the coming engagement, so we had designated them as secondary targets for the first strike.

  “Contacts coming about!” called Martine below. Sure enough, several of the ships started to accelerate on intercept vectors.

  “Fire as soon as solutions are locked!” I called.

  “Missile battery tracking!” called the Gunnery Chief. “Salvo away! Time to intercept, thirty-nine seconds!”

  “Port battery firing!”

  “Starboard battery firing!”

  The bridge reports started calling out, loud and clear as the dull thudding of the batteries reverberated through the ship and I started checking the indicators on my command chair. As each operation commenced, icons flashed on my personal holographics. I could have had them fed directly to my overlay, but I knew if I did there was a very real chance I’d get distracted by them. No, I thought, better I place them where I could check them as needed.

  The second missile salvo was away, both headed for the Xerxes. The hardlight batteries on either side of the ship would be targeting the docking platform at first, then track along the hull of the Xerxes. The drones started launching, assuming defensive screens about the ship. The third missile salvo, twenty seconds after the first, was aimed at the closest of the Destroyers. By the time the fourth was due, the first would strike the forward sections of the Xerxes. We would alternate a salvo between the Xerxes and each Destroyer until we ran out of missiles – nine salvos all up.

  It would take us just over three minutes to perform our pass, reach apsis and then veer back toward Eovan for another orbit. This second orbit would be spent decelerating, readying our ship to engage on our second pass. Plenty of time for the Corporates to get together a defence, but if they were paying attention during the first pass, they may be able to retaliate before we got out of range again.

  “Detonations detected!” called out a sensor operator, “First salvo on top!”

  “Now’s your chance, Kekkin,” I said to no one, “Get your arse out of there, birdman!”

  I watched the display nervously as the second salvo hit, registering damage across sections of the Xerxes’ hull. The third salvo struck its target – the closest Destroyer.

  “Secondary explosions reported on target,” reported the operations deck, “Destroyer alpha losing power! Life pods launching!”

  A cheer went up through the bridge. I didn’t join them, I knew there was much more to do before we could celebrate.

  “Weapons release detected!”

  I looked down to the operations deck. “Which contact fired?”

  “Destroyer bravo and two Transport class ships!”

  “Analyse the attacks! What have we got?”

  “Class 2 beam and missile weapons. Drones launched from the following targets…”

  Drone contacts started to appear on the display, but I paid them no mind. We were simply going too fast for them to engage us. Our drones could handle the missiles, and I was reasonably sure our shields would take the beamer shots.

  Sure enough, the ship’s hull vibrated with the energy of the beams as it lanced across our hull. The shield operator reported no penetration. No damage so far.

  My eyes drifted back to the Xerxes, trying to gauge the level of damage we’d inflicted. All the missile strikes were aimed at suspected weapon and sensor locations, rather than trying to destroy or disable the ship – Kekkin had already immobilised it and robbed it of its ship killer weaponry. We just needed to make sure it was wounded enough for the Captain to give pause to continuing the conflict by the time we engaged for real on our second pass.

  Reports of the damage we’d inflicted started coming in faster as our weapons reached their targets more frequently. Our drone screen dealt with several missile strikes against us, and as we passed a picket ship we lost several drones to its Class 1 weapons, otherwise our damage was minimal. As we neared apsis – the farthest point from the orbit of Eovan that we would reach – we started to steer the ship back towards the moon.

  “Recall all drones!” I called. Any drones we didn’t recover before we started our next orbit we would have no chance of recovering before we got out of range. They’d be left behind and destroyed by the defenders.

  Another
cheer rang out as the destruction of the docking platform was announced. As close as we were, the main view screens captured the explosion as the starboard batteries hammered the platform and ignited a fuel reserve of helium-3. It was a brief, but violent blast, destroying a smaller Transport nearby.

  “Incoming fire from the Xerxes and Destroyers bravo and charlie!” called the operations deck, “Hardlight munitions!”

  I opened the main broadcast channel. “All hands! Brace for impact!”

  In seconds, the distant thud of rounds impacting on our hull vibrated through the ship’s superstructure.

  “Damage report!” I called.

  “Shields are down, capacitors recharging. Hull breaches detected. Bloom systems have sealed all breaches. No casualties reported.”

  The new bloom system was a recent development in damage control systems. Compartments close to the outer hull were fitted with special sensors that would detect the loss of pressure and deploy a nanite ‘bloom’. This bloom would naturally be sucked towards the breach, but when the nanites detected the nearness of other nanites as they entered the hole, they would link up into chains and form a plug, much like polycrete foam. Over the course of ten minutes, the bloom would harden to the consistency of hull plating. Blooms only work on breaches smaller than a metre diameter, but they were very effective. A breach bigger than a metre would usually mean the compartment was destroyed, regardless.

  We started to drift, swinging out to face the moon once more and began pouring on the thrust. The ship began to shake violently and gee-forces pushed everyone back into their seats.

  “Missile’s depleted!”

  “Starboard battery,” I called, “Focus on the Xerxes! Port battery target nearest Destroyer!”

  More hits started to smash against our hull, their placement suggesting random shots from frantic fire control crews. Our armour held.