Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1)

by Joshua Boring

  Nathen looked sideways at Calico. She was staring, open-mouthed, leaning against the walkway’s handrail. Nathen chuckled, light-heartedly.

  “She a beauty, isn’t she?”

  Calico shut her mouth and shook her head to snap herself out of it. “It’s… It’s amazing.”

  Nathen smiled, proudly. “What we have here is the United Race of Humanities' first Grade-A starship. It’s only Grade-A starship.”

  “Grade-A?” Calico said, stunned. “But, that means it’s-”

  “On par with the most advanced starships in the known galaxy, yes,” Nathen said, cementing the claim. “On a tech and performance level, it can match anything the Yew Alliance or War Hive can throw at us, pound for pound. And we are usually even better.”

  “But… But I thought Humanity only had a running Grade-C Navy. Don’t we?”

  Nathen shrugged. “Eh, last I heard. But then again, Haven Alpha’s not a fleet.”

  Nathen turned and headed for the stairs that led to the hangar’s floor. “Haven Alpha is unlike anything else you will find out there in the big black. What you have before you is the sweat and blood of nearly a centuries’ worth of painstaking trial and error. She’s swift, deadly, and advanced.”

  “It certainly looks the part,” Calico said, working her way along the handrail, trailing Nathen. “Why’s the bow pronged like that?”

  Nathen glanced down and kept walking. “Oh, those are the rail guns.”

  Calico started, letting go of the railing and jerking back like it had shocked her. “Wait, rail guns? On a, a frigate?”

  “She’s not a frigate,” said Nathen, matter-of-factly. “She’s a mobile headquarters. Only one of its kind.”

  “Yeah, but… rail guns?”

  “Among other things.”

  Nathen started down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Rail guns were extremely powerful magnetic accelerators that consumed an enormous amount of power. Any ship without a reactor had no hope of generating enough energy to power a rail gun blast. But, again, Haven Alpha did have its own reactor. Thus, rail guns.

  Nathen reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the mobile headquarters. The ship’s profile from above looked like a double-pronged spearhead attached to a medieval shield, making it look sleek but also burly. From the rail guns that took up a large portion of the frontal hull section, to the anti-aerial laser grid that was nearly invisible, the ship was just bristling with weapons. And that was only the start of the surprises it had in store. From the floor of the docking dome, Nathen could see Haven Alpha’s open hangar just behind and beneath the pronged spearhead. Nathen saw several moving figures inside, though he couldn’t distinguish who they were until he got closer. He walked up the ramp, with Calico at his side, and took a look around to survey the hangar. Calico’s official orientation started here.

  The hangar was large enough to hold up to four full-sized starfighters. But, at the moment, it held only two, and these were some very curious craft. At the point Nathen and Calico had come up the ramp, one craft was on either side of them. Working on the one on the left were at least two people, bent over so Nathen couldn’t identify them. Nathen turned so he could motion with his free hand and pointed to the curious vehicle on his left.

  “Take a good look.”

  Calico looked and frowned. “I don’t recognize it. Doesn’t look to fit any profiles I’m aware of.”

  Nathen opened his hand with a flourish, like he was making a presentation. “Those are our Vacuum/Atmosphere Insertion Dropships. Call sign: Hybrids. If there’s a better strikecraft-sized ship out there, we haven’t encountered it.”

  “So they’re fighters,” said Calico, squinting at the ship's profile. “The wings are kinda angled like a War Hive Stinger. But the cabin doesn’t look right.”

  “That’s because it’s not just a fighter,” said Nathen. “It’s also a dropship.”

  Calico looked at Nathen like he wasn’t serious. “Okay, now you’re just messing with me, right?”

  Nathen shook his head. “Nope. That area just forward of the wings is where we ride. It’s got four seats and just enough room to stow our gear. Pilots sit where that canopy is.”

  “Pilots? As in plural?”

  “Yep. Or pilot and gunner/navigator.”

  Calico stared at the ship, then sighed and shook her head.

  “I think I’d like a closer look.”

  “By all means,” Nathen assured. He nodded toward the dropship. “Let’s go.”

  Nathen could understand her curiosity. Hybrid dropships were a unique creation, designed exclusively for the ESCs. Fewer than ten had ever existed to Nathen’s knowledge. As they approached, Nathen recognized the two working on the Hybrid’s wing. Phillip Norsehill, leaning over the wing with a pair of welder’s goggles held over his eyes and a spark torch in his hand, and Nikolai, one of the Hybrid’s pilots sitting next to him.

  Nikolai was speaking with Phillip, but must have heard Nathen’s approaching footstep because he straightened up and looked over his shoulder. When he saw who it was, he twisted around and hopped off the Hybrid’s wing.

  “Commander,” he said, acknowledging his superior. Phillip switched off the spark torch and pulled the goggles down around his neck, quickly spotting the two newcomers. His eyes widened and he blinked several times, possibly from wearing the welder’s goggles, but Nathen suspected it was something else.

  “Wow,” he said, face twisting into a lopsided smile. “It’s red.”

  Yep. Something else.

  Nathen stifled a groan and glanced sideways. Calico’s face colored and she reached up, pulling her beret a little farther down on her head, trying to hide her brilliantly red hair. Nathen shot Phillip a telling glance, and the technician saw it. His smile shrank, but didn’t disappear entirely. He cleared his throat and put down his tools.

  “Sorry. You, ah, you must be the new team speaker.” He extended a grease-smeared hand and his smile returned to full power. “Phillip Norsehill, local foot-in-his-mouth. Pleased to meet you.”

  It took Calico a second to remember to accept his hand. She probably wasn’t used to shaking this many hands; salutes were what she was used to. After a second though, and after eyeing the unidentified stains on his hand, Calico grasped it.

  “Calico Trast.”

  Phillip shook her hand and released it. Calico started to discretely wipe away the grime she’d gotten from the mechanic's hand, but training kicked in and she stopped before wiping her hand on her uniform. Nathen nodded toward the pilot standing to the side.

  “And this is…”

  “Nikolai,” Nikolai said, picking up on his cue. “Hello Miss Trast.”

  “You don’t give out your last name?”

  Nikolai shrugged. “Only to my future wife.”

  Phillip arched an eyebrow. “The gift that keeps on giving, huh?”

  “I would re-arange your face,” Nikolai said, without turning around. “But I misplaced my Phillip’s Head screwdriver.”

  Calico frowned, chewing on her lower lip, then cocked her head to one side, lifting a finger in question.

  “Russian?”

  Nikolai nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Da. You speak it? My family has a long Russian heritage. While Russian is not widely spoken as a first language anymore, blood is hard to break.” Nikolai gave a hearty chuckle. “Family motto.”

  Calico nodded, intrigued. “Interesting. I don’t think I know of many Russian spacefarers.”

  “Really?” Nikolai said, arching an eyebrow. “You've never heard of Sputnik?”

  “No,” said Calico, shaking her head. “Who’s that?”

  Nikolai sighed, a vaguely amused look on his face. “Nevermind. At any rate. Space is something I am comfortable with. Adventure is in my blood.”

  Phillip faked a confused look. “I thought it was called vodka.”

  Nikolai issued a growl from the corner of his mouth. “Shut up, Norsehill.”

  Phillip s
mirked and turned his attention back to Calico. His lopsided smile refused to fade as he shook his head.

  “I’m sorry if I’m prodding, but… wow your hair is red.”

  Calico sighed and hung her head, pulling her beret off, accepting the inevitable comments.

  “Do you normally get hung up on the color of people’s hair?” she asked.

  Phillip shook his head. “No, no. But I think you’ve usurped the current title holder.” Phillip turned and looked into the open cabin toward the pilots’ compartment. “Hey Red!”

  The hatch opened and Nathen saw the back of a pilot’s interactive helmet sitting in one of the pilots’ seats. The Hybrid’s other pilot, Red, twisted to look over his shoulder.

  “What?” he said, sounding annoyed at Phillip. Phillip motioned at Calico, whose hair was uncovered and clearly visible.

  “Bad news. She’s the new Red. You are no longer known as ‘Red’. You are now… Pseudo-Red!”

  Red glowered behind the helmet’s visor. “What? Like you’re ‘Pseudo-Intelligent’? Go play with your coloring book, you drooling toddler.”

  The hatch shut with a snap, and Phillip laughed.

  “I would if you hadn’t eaten all my crayons! Haha!”

  Suddenly, three wing-length fins swung up out of the fixed wing like ruffling feathers on a bird, pitching the technician over. Phillip threw his hands up for balance, but couldn’t stop himself from clunking headfirst into the Hybrid’s hull. That cut his laughter short. As the fins settled back into the wing, Phillip groaned and rubbed his head.

  “Ow…”

  Nathen stepped over and knocked on the pilots’ cabin hatch.

  “Quit abusing the tech!” he snapped, though secretly amused.

  “He deserved it,” Red's voice came through the hatch, flatly. Nathen pointed at the wing.

  “No, I meant… Ah, never mind.”

  Nathen sighed and turned back to Calico, who was staring at the wing intensely.

  “What was that? What just happened?”

  Nathen tossed Calico’s duffel bag into the Hybrid’s compartment and strode over to the wing.

  “Hybrid’s have their name for a reason. They actually have two different modes of propulsion. One is what you see now. This is how it’ll look for deep space and high speeds. We count on these things to get us in fast so we can do our jobs where we’re at our best: on the ground. We can fire in from three planetary diameters away and hit the outer-atmosphere before anyone even knows we’re there, at which point we’ll already have performed a ballistic re-entry and shed all our speed for a nice, controlled landing.”

  Calico inhaled sharply. “What’s a ballistic re-entry?”

  Nikolai stared at the ceiling thoughtfully as he formed his answer.

  “Ballistic entry is different from powered re-entry. Powered re-entry takes engine power to push through atmosphere quickly to avoid extended heat and friction build up. Ballistic re-entry uses no power but a planet’s gravitational pull.”

  Calico seemed to choke, but she recovered quickly. Nathen glanced at her curiously, but let it pass without comment.

  “Why not just use standard assault shuttles?”

  Nathen sniffed and made a small face of disgust.

  “Why would we? Standard assault shuttles are big, slow, offer little protection, and have a limited arsenal in sacrifice for troop space. Plus their ion burn can be read by just about any equipment the enemy has developed in the last hundred years or so.” Nathen gave the Hybrid a pat. “These boys, however, make a mockery of everything else. They’re as fast as a starfighter, and actually they’re probably superior to most that are out there. They’re smaller than a standard shuttle, so that’s two things going for it when we’re plunging into a hostile planet’s atmosphere. And third, it’s got a stealth system that makes it virtually invisible to everything but the naked eye, and that is more than any fighter or shuttle can claim.”

  Calico still had her eyes fixed on the wing. “But what were those flat things? Some kind of flight stabilizers?”

  Nathen shrugged. “Half of the time.”

  Calico looked up. “What are they the other half of the time?”

  Nathen responded by reaching into the cabin and pounding twice on the pilots’ hatch. The hatch flipped open and Red was visible in the seat once again.

  “Yeah?”

  “Run it through a transformation test.”

  “You got it.”

  The hatch closed, and Nathen motioned to Phillip, who was still sitting on the wing rubbing his head.

  “You’d better get off.”

  “Right,” said Phillip, jumping off and hurrying away from the wing. Nathen took several long steps back and motioned for Calico to do the same. Nikolai, already a safe distance from the craft, stayed where he was.

  “Watch,” he said. “This will be interesting.”

  Nothing happened at first, but as the Hybrid powered up, the three fins lifted out of the wing again. They stopped about two feet above the main wing, perfectly level with each other. Then the main wing shifted, transitioning smoothly toward the fixed tail-fin at the rear. In seconds, Nathen saw the wing from the opposite side flow into view, mimicking the wing facing him. At the same time, the three fins lifted up even further, continuing the transformation. When they reached the top, matching the three from the other side, they almost resembled an insect’s wings. The fins shifted into position with a short knob on the top of the dropship. As they connected with the knob, the front-most fins, one on each side, swung forward, followed briefly by the second pair. When the fins stopped moving, all six were perfectly spaced apart in a circular pattern. At the same time the fins were locking into position, the wings rotated up on their sides and swung fluidly together, forming one perfectly aligned tail. With a finishing touch, the wing/tails interlocked together, and the transformation was complete.

  Nathen looked down to see Calico’s reaction. She seemed impressed, to say the least. Seconds ago she’d been examining a sleek, deadly starfighter with two wings. Now she was gaping at a six-rotored, long-tailed dropship; the likes of which the Human race hadn’t relied on in centuries.

  “Know what it is?” Nathen asked. Calico closed her mouth and held a hand to her forehead, still in awe.

  “It’s… it’s a multi-structural aerial craft. It’s part fighter class, part… something else.”

  “What would that be?” asked Nathen, pushing the young translator on. Calico swallowed and pointed to the top of the transformed craft.

  “Well, I think those are part of the wing’s steering flaps, but in this position… It looks like they rotate in a circle while extended. But why?”

  This time, Nikolai took up the answer. “I assume you have never heard of a helicopter.”

  Calico blinked, shaking her head. Nathen eyed the fixed fins.

  “It’s a pre-galactic community vehicle that relies on rotary-blade flight.”

  Calico blinked in slight disbelief. “Rotary-blade flight? That’s ancient!”

  Nathen held up a finger, matter-of-factly.

  “It also won’t show up on enemy sensors that focus on gravitational anomalies created by standard shuttle repulsors, or burn off from ion cells. It may seem ancient, but our engineers discovered some… interesting things that we can do with rotary blades.”

  Calico stared at the dropship for a moment before asking. “Like what?”

  Nathen crossed his arms, trying to pick off the most important features. “Well, it’s tricky, but we’ve implemented a sort of sensory sapper into each of the blades, so when they spin up, we can completely distort incoming sensors, like your universal radar for instance.”

  “If it’s essentially a jammer, does that mean that when it’s active, we’re blind too?”

  Nathen shook his head. “No, no, not at all. It cloaks us in a rotating veil of distortion, so yes, signals are blocked. Below the blade level. See that knob they’re centered around?”

  “Yea
h?”

  “That’s our sensor pod. It sticks out far enough to be above the distortion, which I remind you is directed downward, and feeds us everything we need that we can’t see with our own eyes. And it's small enough that it won’t be picked up on any sensors.”

  Calico stepped forward, needlessly ducking her head under the suspended blade, and touched the Hybrid’s surface.

  “It’s impressive-…” She cut herself off, like something had suddenly occurred to her. “Wait. Let me get this straight. If it doesn’t rely on repulsor technology in this stage… how does it fly?”

  Nikolai shrugged. “Just simple aerodynamics. Once the blades get moving it creates a vortex powerful enough to stay aloft. It depends on atmosphere, of course, but usually we can adjust to that with some minor turbulence.”

  “How… how much turbulence?” Calico asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

  Nathen frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  Calico turned and quickly shook her head. “No, I…” She scowled and bowed her head, then swallowed and met Nathen’s eyes. “Well, yeah, a little.”

  Nathen stepped closer, sticking his hands into his jacket pockets. “What is it?”

  Calico glanced at Phillip and Nikolai, her face a little pale. “Well, I… I sort of, have this phobia. Of, f-flying.”

  Nathen arched an eyebrow, taking the news in stride. “Is that so?” Calico nodded. “So, the jetlag you mentioned. You were…”

  “Still shaken up from re-entry, yeah.” Calico shifted uneasily, eyes darting to Phillip and Nikolai to see if their expressions were judgmental. Thankfully, Phillip seemed mercifully humorless on the subject, and kept his mouth shut. He and Nikolai shared a look, but neither said anything. Nathen sighed, pulling his right hand out of his jacket pocket and running it through his hair.

  And we've hit the first snag.

  “I’m afraid there’s no avoiding this problem,” he said after a moment. “We do a lot of flying.”