Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1)

by Joshua Boring

  Nathen nodded his head. “Haven Alpha is a unique ship, that’s for sure. It’s even more impressive when you consider how hard it would be to fit all of this state-of-the-art tech in a frigate-sized chassis.”

  Calico finished her visual sweep of the medical ward and turned back to Nathen.

  “This is a huge improvement from our old Grade-C ships. How can the Navy afford to pay for all this, just for one group of commandos?”

  Nathen sighed and reached up to run a hand through his hair. “Wellll, technically they didn’t.”

  Calico frowned, confused. “They didn’t? Then who did?”

  Trent fixed Nathen with a stare. “Sir, should we tell her?”

  Nathen waved his hand dismissively. “She doesn’t need to know the specifics.” Nathen turned his eyes back to Calico. “The Elite Stellar Commados don’t operate under any particular military branch, so that way our jurisdiction is, well, everywhere. We’re a very secretive force, so no one can try to manipulate us within our own government. If we siphon funds from our military, it’ll take away from branches that need it worse, and questions will be raised, and ultimately we’ll be discovered. So, we have to find... other, sources.”

  Calico's expression hardened. “So we're more like a freelance paramilitary group.”

  “No,” Trent said, matter-of-factly. “Mercenaries get paid.”

  Calico glanced at the sniper. “And what do ESCs get?”

  A twinge of a grin cross the stoic marksman's mouth. “Results.”

  Calico planted her hands on her hips, listening intently. “If we're not being paid by the military, and we're not being controlled by the Army, then where's the liability? Is the secrecy really that important?”

  Nathen held his index finger up. “It’s our number one defensive weapon. You don’t understand how easy it is to be defeated by your own politics, when you chain yourself to them. You can be physically indestructible, but if you don’t safeguard yourself from financial and bureaucratic poisoning, you’ll end up dead in a whole other way. If we don’t exist, there’s no way our strength can be accurately gauged, and we can’t be targeted for revenge by our enemies. And anyone can be bought, with the right currency. If our enemies can’t reach us by the simple fact that they can’t find us, then we’re safe front and back.”

  “Does it work?” asked Calico.

  “So far,” admitted Nathen. “But you notice we always carry guns.”

  Calico glanced at Trent, who lifted one arm, revealing a shoulder-holstered pistol underneath. Calico turned back to Nathen.

  “So if the funds don’t come from the military, where do they come from? It has to be a lot, if this ship costs as much as I think it does.”

  Nathen crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. “It comes from just about everywhere. I won’t go into specifics. But the ESC’s have influence in many places through various dummy corporations. Big organizations, businesses, criminal syndicates…”

  “Wait,” Calico said, holding out a hand. “Criminal syndicates?”

  Nathen lifted his hands. “What can I say? Some criminals are just filthy rich. You didn’t think everything we did was entirely legal, did you?”

  “But you steal from people?”

  “No,” said Nathen, almost chuckling. “We siphon a portion of funds away from people who do, I suppose. It’s a fine line, though we manage to blur it a little. Our justification is simple. If the funds find their way into our hands, we’ll put them to much better use than they will.”

  “Is this one of those ‘right or wrong’ questions you mentioned earlier?”

  “Touché.”

  “Well, whatever. I can live with that knowledge. Is that all?”

  “That’s all you need to know, I suppose,” said Nathen. “Funds are not our concern. It's just a little comforting to know that anything we need or want, we will get.”

  Calico smiled. “I can definitely live with that knowledge.”

  “Just stay with me,” Nathen said. “It gets better.”

  Just then, Nathen’s comm. unit beeped. Nathen reached inside his jacket and pulled out the shield-shaped communicator.

  “Knight here.”

  “Yo Commander,” came Phillip Norsehill’s voice. “The new shipment just got here from customs.”

  “Awesome,” said Nathen. “Start unloading the goods. I left the firing range up, so you’ll take care of that, right?”

  “You got it.”

  Nathen switched off the comm. unit and returned it to his inside pocket. Trent sighed and rolled his head from side to side like he was loosening up.

  “Well, on that cue, I’d like to excuse myself. Commander?”

  “Go ahead, Trent,” Nathen said, waving a hand toward the door. “And try to keep our launch window in mind. All that stuff has to be stowed and locked down in three hours at the most.”

  “It won’t take that long,” assured Trent. The sniper threw a casual salute to Nathen, then turned one last time to Calico. “Miss Trast, it was nice making your acquaintance. Can’t wait to do some real work together.”

  Without waiting for a reply, the sniper brushed past the young speaker toward the door. As the door opened, Nathen spun in place as a thought occurred to him.

  “Oh, Trent, one last thing.”

  Trent stopped in the open doorway. “Hmm?”

  “Do you know where Helen is?”

  Calico turned to listen, somewhat surprised to hear there was another woman on the team already. Trent thought about it for a second before answering.

  “As far as I know, she’s still going over those transmissions Chronos sent us. She’ll be in the Communications Room.”

  “Ah, so that’s who’s been in there,” Nathen said. “Thanks. That’s all I needed.”

  “Sir.”

  Trent swept out the door without another word. Nathen turned around and faced Cray again. “Anything you need before we go, doctor?”

  Cray shook his head, a very Human gesture. “No, nothing urgent. I’ll need a full bio-scan of Miss Trast’s body and an update to my medical records, plus a few extra tests. It can wait.”

  “Alright then.” Nathen turned and motioned for Calico to follow him. “Come on. I’ve still got one more team member for you to meet.”

  The two commandos stepped out into the hallway and turned right. They reached the room marked “Communications” on the left; one of two doors remaining before the lift to the bridge. There was one other door, on the right. As Nathen reached out to open the door to communications, Calico stopped him.

  “Sir,” she said. “What’s behind this door?”

  Nathen turned and examined the unlabeled door that led to what was probably the most important of the ESC’s assets. The door was the most heavily secured, next to pressure doors and airlocks, and it was marked with the ESC shield and sword. For a moment, Nathen was tempted to show Calico right away, but he quickly reminded himself that team introductions took priority.

  “I’ll show you later,” he said. Then he turned and thumbed the door switch for the Communications Room.

  The door slid open at Nathen’s command, and the two stepped inside. The room was wider than most of the others had been, but not much bigger. There were three rotating chairs bolted to the floor in front of various communications equipment, and in one of them, facing the equipment, was Helen Platner. Doc was standing next to her, watching screens of information over her shoulder. Nathen saw Helen’s head cock at the sound of his entry, despite having her ears covered by a headset. Doc glanced up and smiled warmly, nodding a hello. Helen paused whatever she was doing and pulled her headset off. She took a second to shake out her three feet of brunette hair before turning in her seat to face the newcomers. She glanced over Calico before addressing Nathen directly.

  “Hey Boss. I was just wrestling with the cryptic communications Chronos sent us.”

  Nathen extended a hand, palm up, toward Helen as if displaying her for introduction.
>
  “Our final member, Helen Platner. Second in command, and team tactician.”

  Helen turned her gaze on Calico. After a second, she picked up one leg and crossed it over the other, leaning back in her chair as she appraised the girl.

  “And you must be Calico Trast. I’ve read your file.”

  Calico blinked. “I have a file?”

  Helen nodded, folding her hands across her lap. “Actually, I just finished writing it this morning.”

  Calico lost her words, face turning slightly pale. Helen turned a few degrees in her chair and motioned to Doc, who handed her a datapad. Helen took it and started cycling through information.

  “Let’s see. You started in the Infantry about five months ago. Graduated boot camp with passing grades and were immediately recommended for analyst teams, reasons cited as having ‘exceptionally high specialist talents’. Got assigned to Strike Recon within the first month. Trained, but undeployed. Multiple recommendations by your peers, as well as commendations from officers. You’ve turned down several offers of promotion; all of which would have diverted you away from seeing action. Served in several mock combats, thirteen kills under simulation: times killed or wounded in war games equal to twenty-seven percent failure rate. Transferred six times; seven times reversed to a different squad for various reasons. For someone to even be considered for promotion at your age, this soon into your career, speaks a lot about your abilities.”

  Calico’s face brightened slightly. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Helen turned and dropped the datapad onto the console behind her. “Though, I’ll be open with you. Saying your accomplishments look good won’t buy you a free ride on this ship. You still need to prove you can stand up to the challenge. So we’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

  Calico’s face fell, but she didn’t look dismayed. After a second, she crossed her arms and straightened up.

  “Alright then,” she said. “Where do we start?”

  Helen glanced at Nathen and arched an eyebrow. Nathen nodded and motioned to the console. Helen uncrossed her legs and swiveled just enough to reach to her side and activate the console she’d paused.

  “Let’s have you take a crack at this,” she said. “I’ve been working on translating it, so you’ve got something to work with.”

  Calico walked over and took a few seconds to look at the screen. Nathen saw her lips moving slightly as she read to herself. She read for about half a minute before speaking.

  “Hmm,” she said. “It’s standard Yew Alliance Common. Nothing heavy. Where did this come from?”

  “The Menturion System,” answered Doc.

  “Huh,” said Calico, cycling through the screen. “That’s odd. I didn’t think we had any resources out there.”

  “We do now,” said Helen. “It’s too close to our forward stations, and we’re afraid the increased activity means there will be raids on our less-defended assets. Intel suggests that the Yew Alliance may be considering the area for a permanent outpost, but it hasn’t been fully investigated.”

  Doc scowled at his screen. “Could be worse, I suppose. Command’ll decide if it’s worth the trouble, but personally I don’t see the point of sending the ESCs for something like this. Just low priority stuff.”

  Calico clicked a button on the console and froze the screen. “It looks like they’re deploying resources and troops to Cravac.”

  Helen turned, a confused frown creasing her face. “Yes. How did you know?”

  Calico pointed to a line on the screen. “It says so right here.”

  Helen blinked at the screen. “You read that far already?”

  Calico nodded slowly. “Well… yeah. Granted, some of its still encrypted, but for the most part, it’s all legible.”

  Helen waved a hand at the screen. “It took me hours to get all of that translated!” Helen turned back to Calico, skeptically. “Are you for real?”

  Calico shrugged with a slight grimace crossing her face, unsure of how to answer. Helen looked at Calico, to Doc, then back to Nathen. After a thoughtful pause, she spun in her chair and tapped the controls. A new screen popped up, with lines upon lines of alien language on it. Helen pushed back and motioned at the screen.

  “Read that,” she demanded, earnestly. Calico cleared her throat and leaned down in front of the screen.

  “Elli semra potu de’fol nal na det’troi de’tra vaccen Synks tol-…”

  “Huh? No! I, I meant in Basic.”

  Calico tapered off, cheeks flushing a slight red color.

  “Oh. Of course. Uhm.”

  She cleared her throat and began again.

  “Recent enemy strength assessment by Master General Synks shows current planetary fortifications will be sufficient to hold Insectoid insurgence at bay for foreseeable future. Fifth General Sk’toshe has been given the order to begin construction of a forward supply port for future…”

  “Stop,” Helen said, holding up a hand. “You’ve convinced me.”

  “Holy manoly,” Doc gawked. “And you didn’t even miss a beat. Not even those speech boxes can translate that fast.”

  “This is going to cut down on translation time,” Helen said with a wide smile spreading across her face. Nathen moved in, leaning over Calico’s shoulder.

  “Can you give me the gist of this report?”

  Calico looked back to the transmission, green eyes flickering back and forth.

  “From what I can make out, it looks like a Yew force is fortifying their front on the Cravac Moon. There’s a mention of a planetside supply base. Something about an orbital defense grid. And it looks like they’re bringing in additional troops and requested armor for...”

  Calico paused, a puzzled look crossing her face. “This part doesn’t make any sense. They’re bringing in extra armor for the Head of War.”

  The other ESC’s shared a confused glance. Nathen arched an eyebrow. “Sure you translated that one right?”

  Calico pointed to a spot near the end of the transmission. “It’s just the regional vernacular that throws me off. It doesn’t specifically say ‘Head of War’. What it translates to is, roughly, Warhead.”

  The room went silent.

  Calico blinked, slowly noticing the chilled environment. She turned her head, squirming uncomfortably under everyone’s scrutiny.

  “What?”

  Nathen stared Calico in the eye, deadly serious. “You’re sure?”

  Calico nervously pointed at the last line on the screen. “It says it right here.”

  Helen looked at it. “No, it doesn’t. It just says ‘Bring in armor support for the head.’ They mean the front lines.”

  Calico shook her head. “No, no. See this little notch? Right before the beginning of the word? It changes the whole meaning. It means Warhead now. ‘Bring in the armor support for the Warheads’.”

  Doc stared, dumbstruck, at the screen for a second, then turned to Nathen.

  “Whoa.”

  Nathen looked Doc in the eye. “That,” he said, seriously, “changes everything.”

  Calico looked at everyone in turn, confused. “What? What’s a Warhead?”

  Nathen reached up and rubbed a hand across the side of his face, staring at the ground. “Calico, you can read that. Does it mention anything else about Warheads?”

  Calico shook her head. “No sir. That’s about it.”

  “Insectoids,” Nathen said, insistently. “Is there any elaboration on Insectoids.”

  “Just that they’re dealing with aggression. That’s all.”

  Nathen turned grimly to Helen. “You’re sure you didn’t pick up any War Hive channels?”

  Helen waved her hands at the screens. “All I have is what Chronos gave us.”

  Nathen groaned and swore under his breath. Calico looked at the three ESCs with a questioning look on her face.

  “What does that mean?”

  Nathen sighed. “It means we’re going to the Menturion system.”

  Chapter 12

/>   The lift to the bridge didn’t take long to respond to Nathan’s summons.

  “What’s going on, sir?” Calico asked as the lift doors closed behind them. Nathen waited until the lift started moving before answering.

  “The Human Race isn’t the only one with a beef with the Yew Alliance,” he explained as the lift climbed toward the bridge. “You’ve got the Ra-Shem Dynasty, the Splinter Clans, any number of other small, oppressed races.” Nathen paused. “But if the Alliance had a list of most aggressive enemies, the War Hive would be at the top.”

  Calico swallowed uncomfortably at Nathen’s grimness. “The War Hive? As in, Insectoids?”

  Nathen turned and nodded grimly. “Those are the ones.”

  “I’m not too familiar with them, but… are they that focused on the Yew? Doesn’t the War Hive hate everyone?”

  Nathen shrugged. “Yeah, though ‘hate’ may be the wrong word. The War Hive isn’t too particular about who they conquer. But out of all the races the War Hive has waged war against, they have the longest history with the Yew. And thus far, the collective races of the Yew Alliance are the only ones who have managed to hold their war machine at bay.”

  “Has Humanity ever tried to stop them?”

  “No,” Nathen said, flatly. “It’s not our fight. Yet. I’m sure some day—sooner than a lot of people realize—the Insectoids are going to run out of other races to kill, and then we’ll be fighting them on our own.”

  Calico was silent for a few seconds as the lift began to slow. “So… What’s their end goal? What do they plan to do with the galaxy when they’ve conquered everyone?”

  Nathen sighed as the lift slowed to a stop.

  “I think that question alone should motivate us to fight so that it never gets answered.”

  The doors parted, and the time for discussion had passed. Nathen stepped onto the bridge with Calico at his side.

  The bridge was well lit and, compared to most warship bridges, compact. It was roomy enough for the dozen or so people who manned their stations, despite the fact that the ship was on the ground. The widest area immediately off the lift consisted of three stations; the Captain’s station, dead center, was offset by a smaller command station on either side. The other system stations were further toward the nose, and on lower tiers. Through the armored windows Nathen could see the interior of the docking dome. He stopped about four steps from the center chair, which was high-backed enough to almost hide whoever was sitting in it. Nathen briefly recalled the last time he’d encountered a chair like this one and smirked.