Galactic - Ten Book Space Opera Sci-Fi Boxset

by Colin F. Barnes

  Being omitted from the defense meeting was the final straw for Morgan. He’d be sidelined to the point where he had nothing to lose. He turned and headed straight for the meeting room at the end of the glass-paneled corridor.

  The junior officer’s boots thudded against the light green marble floor as she followed. “You can’t go in there, Admiral. I’m under strict instructions that they’re not to be disturbed.”

  Morgan stopped and looked her in the eye. “Since when do you tell an admiral what to do? I’ve spent twenty-five damned years in the CWDF and fought for my first five. The marshal can do his own dirty work.”

  The officer raised her smart-screen. Morgan narrowed his eyes. She lowered her wrist and turned away. He felt no satisfaction about pulling rank, but if he wanted to see the vice president, he needed verbal confirmation about the changes Kenwright had imposed; otherwise it would just come across as speculative whining.

  A cool, calm head would be the best way to play this. Morgan took a second to compose himself, knocked on the door and opened it before receiving a response.

  Two young captains sat in padded black leather seats on either side of the polished wooden conference table. Kenwright, sitting at the head, glared at Morgan. “What’s the meaning of barging in like this?”

  “I heard the news about Orbital Twenty-Two from artillerymen in Battery Two,” Morgan said, making sure he stuck to the facts and kept emotion out of his words. “I’ve seen the feed and it’s obvious that the Atlantis ship has struck again.”

  Kenwright glanced at both captains. “Leave us for a minute, would you?”

  Both captains stood and left the room. Morgan made sure the door closed behind them and turned to face the marshal. “How many years have we served together, Marshal?”

  “Take a seat, Paul,” Kenwright said in a conciliatory tone and gestured to the chair on his left. “We’re heading for war.”

  “I think that’s pretty obvious,” Morgan said, remaining at the opposite end of the table. “What isn’t so obvious to me is why I wasn’t told about being taken off the command call and why I’m no longer a defense chief?”

  Kenwright groaned and poured himself a glass of water. “We need young blood to win. Like you and me twenty years ago. Bellies full of fire, fearless, and the stamina for a long campaign.”

  “You do realize that the Atlantis ship is currently causing the damage, dragging our ships around and creating gaps?”

  “Of course I realize. That’s why I’ve put you on the job.”

  “With no CWDF resources and a tight budget,” Morgan said and sensed a chance to push for what he wanted. “Let me captain a capital ship and join the hunt for the Atlantis ship. I’ll forgive the disrespect shown to me.”

  “That’s completely out of the question. They’re required to keep back the Axis.” The marshal’s face twisted into a scowl. “And who are you to forgive me? Get out of here, and don’t come back until you’ve got some news on your little project. I don’t want to hear about you meddling in the ops center or pressuring junior officers either. Am I making myself clear?”

  Morgan saluted. “Yes, Marshal.”

  Returning along the corridor, Morgan passed the two young captains, who both gazed at their boots. Kenwright shouted them back in through the open door.

  A grin stretched across Morgan’s face. The old goat had finally lost it. Using two captains in his defense meetings, putting a low priority on the very thing that destroyed the two stations, and sidelining one of his most experienced officers in battle. The marshal had spent years getting lazy after the war, whereas Morgan yearned to be active. Now he had his chance. Now he had reason to go higher, to Orloza.

  Mach still needed to get in touch and provide an update, before any news of his mission got out, but more importantly, Orloza would see him, and Morgan didn’t feel a shred of guilt about it. The CWDF would not fall due to incompetence.

  Chapter Twenty

  After two standard days, Mach and his crew on the Jaguar came out of their L-jump. Mach was in the captain’s chair with Adira by his side monitoring the sensor array. So far, no sign of the Atlantis ship signal.

  The navigational viewscreen at the front of the bridge switched on the moment the LD engine whined down. They had entered real space-time once more. Mach engaged the damaged Gamma Drive and brought it up to a comfortable thirty-five percent so as not to overload the remaining crystal array.

  “Hey, Squid, how are things down there in the drive module?” Mach asked.

  “Stable, sir, though I’m afraid the L-jump has somewhat made the vestan design irreparable.”

  “The sensors are picking up chatter,” Adira said. She brought the signals up on the main screen and squinted at the waveforms. “Looks like general communications and flight control,” she added.

  “So it does,” Mach replied. “This is a rare piece of good news. It means the rumor of the Black Swan having a station out here had more to it than you realized.”

  “And that’s good luck? If half of the rumors about this psychotic Laverna reject are true, I doubt she’ll just let us approach without some kind of tithe. Especially given the rarity of this ship.”

  “Well, we don’t have much choice at this moment. How much do you know about this woman?” Mach asked, thinking of a way they could perhaps trade for help to repair the ship. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to spend a few days here; it would give Babcock a chance to scan the area to see if there was any sign of the Atlantis ship.

  “And besides,” he said, “who knows, there might be some interesting intel to be had. When we get inside, I want you to come with me.”

  “Oh, that’s gracious of you.”

  “I’m sorry about last time, but I wanted you back here.”

  “Don’t forget, Mach, that your contract is still effectively open.” She gave him a cold look that made him look away.

  “I know,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not as if I’ve just forgotten. Someday, whether you close that contract or not, I want to know who took it out regardless of how much it would hurt me. I can’t live not knowing.”

  “You’re assuming we’ll survive the Black Swan,” she said and shut the conversation down with, “I’m going to wake Babcock and the others. You can take us into the station—it’s just point three two of an AU away. I’ve marked it on the chart.”

  Mach simply nodded as she passed him and headed down the corridor to the berth section amidships. He input the coordinates into the AI-navigator and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, thinking of their likely next move.

  A few moments later Babcock joined Mach in the bridge.

  “Sanchez’ snoring is like nothing I’ve ever heard before,” the old man said. “It rattles through the bulkhead with more noise than the LD.”

  “Means he’s resting well. We need him alert.”

  “Adira said there’s an orbital here after all.”

  “Yeah,” Mach said, bringing a magnified view of it up on the screen.

  “Huh,” Babcock said, scratching at his whiskery chin. “Can you enlarge it still further? I want to get a look at the surface detail.”

  Mach did as he asked. “What is it?” he asked.

  Babcock stood up and approached the viewscreen so he stood just a few meters away from it, the screen swallowing his small form up as though he were an element of the orbital.

  “It’s of vestan design,” Babcock said. He raised a bony finger and pointed to an octagonal protrusion from the center of the spinning ring. It reminded Mach of an old-fashioned satellite dish. Around its vast perimeter, hundreds of small cylindrical pods were attached to its edge, giving the station a knurled look from this far out.

  “It’s old,” Babcock added. “Looks to be one of their early defense orbitals.”

  “So you mean it’s got massive weaponry on it?” Mach said.

  “Uh-huh, almost certainly. I think you should send a communication to its owners and be very polite when req
uesting that we dock.” Babcock turned to face Mach and with a hunched limp, made his way back across the bridge and sat in the copilot’s chair with a groan.

  “We’ll need something to trade,” Babcock said, casting an expectant look. “You got anything with you that might be valuable to nonpartisan Axis and Lavernan scum?”

  Mach thought for a moment; other than the ship itself, he had nothing he could call valuable per se. But then it came to him… “I’ve got you,” he said, pointing a finger to his old friend.

  Babcock sat back in his chair and inclined his head. “Me? You want to trade me? I doubt I’d fetch many eros given my age and condition, and prostitution is out of the question.”

  “Hah, no, not you specifically, but what’s in your brain. All those years sitting in your HAB listening in to the Salus Sphere’s every communication… you must have learned a few things that would be useful to people who aren’t exactly the CW’s best buddies.”

  “You’re talking about selling secrets?” He fixed Mach with a stony glare.

  “Well, is there anything that wouldn’t be too terrible to sell? What about trade agreements or something like that?”

  Babcock thought for a few minutes, tapping a finger against his chin. “I think I might have something that would be valuable to this lot. The repercussions wouldn’t be too severe. But let’s keep that as plan B.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  The Jaguar continued its journey toward the great spinning orbital. Mach sent out a hail on all communications frequencies via the sensor array. At first, he didn’t think they would respond with words, but just blast him out of space.

  Sanchez and the twins entered the bridge and took their places. Sanchez looked up at the viewscreen. “It’s colossal. Way bigger than the CW orbitals.”

  “The vestans designed them centuries ago to act as planets,” Danick said, surprising everyone with his sudden confident delivery of useful information. “Their part of space has fewer habitable planets than any other in this sector. Before they joined the Combine, it was the only way for them to defend their home planet.”

  “Get you with the history lesson,” Sanchez said, twirling the end of his mustache. “Where’d you learn that?”

  Danick blushed, shrugged, then with a croaky, self-conscious voice replied, “I took advanced history at the CW educational foundation. We don’t all just march up and down the parade square… we do have some other talents.”

  “Easy, kid,” Sanchez said, “I’m just yanking ya chain. No need to get defensive. It’s very useful information, thank you.”

  Mach gave Danick a smile and ordered him to continue to hail the station to spare any further embarrassment. While they waited on a response, Mach had Lassea scan the area for any other signals and gravitational anomalies.

  “Mach,” the young JP said, pointing to a highlighted cluster of debris she had brought up on the viewscreen. “Look, damaged ships.”

  Mach zoomed in the image. The debris field floated approximately point eight of an AU behind the station and a small belt of asteroids. Their movements caught his attention. “Babcock, does that look like normal movement to you?”

  The older man leaned forward in his chair. His lips moved; physical manifestations of the working out going on in that curious brain of his. “I… no,” he said. “You would expect more of a uniform movement. They look to me as though they’ve been disturbed recently. You can tell something has disrupted their normal path. The asteroids on the east and west side of the belt are moving laterally, while that group there toward the middle is moving tangentially to the rest.

  “And that debris,” he added, “is horan. You can tell by the yellow and black livery. Squid, patch into the viewscreen and run a search on the serial number fragments from the debris.”

  “Running search sequence,” Squid said over the comms. Babcock’s device was still in the engine module carrying out repairs and reports.

  “You’ve done well with that one,” Mach said. “It’s a handy device.”

  “It’s… more than a device, Mach,” Babcock said.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to diminish Squid’s importance to you. It must have been extremely lonely on that old dry rock.”

  His face flushed red, Babcock looked away, inspecting the screen again.

  “Sir,” Danick said, raising his voice with excitement, “we’ve got a response.”

  “Patch them through to the comm channel,” Mach said.

  The boy did just that and the voice, a female one, boomed out of the bridge’s audio system. “Unaffiliated ship, hold your position. This is Flight Coordinator Xuxii of the Black Swan orbital; please state your intentions and last port of call. Over.”

  “Xuxii, this is Captain Carson Mach, freelancer of the…” He realized then that in his haste to test the ship that he’d not yet given her a name. He ran a few options through his mind, considering just calling it the Jaguar, but that seemed impersonal.

  “Go ahead, Captain Mach,” Xuxii prompted.

  “Sorry, freelancer of the Intrepid. We… erm, come in peace. Over.”

  “What was your last port of call, Intrepid? Over.”

  Mach looked to Babcock, who whispered, “Chrimes IV.”

  Good option, Mach thought. That was an independent planet outside of the Salus Sphere. “Chrimes IV, Black Swan. Over.”

  “And your intentions, Intrepid? Over.”

  “Our ship has suffered a number of malfunctions during a long L-jump. You’re the closest station of any sort that we could find. We’re hoping to dock to find an engineer and parts so we can be on our way. We mean to stay no longer than is absolutely necessary. Over.”

  Adira stepped onto the bridge and stood by Mach. She stared up at the viewscreen and nodded.

  “What is it?” Mach said, muting the comm.

  Squid hovered into view from behind Adira, who said, “This little guy identified those horan fragments up there.”

  “And?”

  Squid jiggled its complement of arms as if excited to have done something useful. “They were a group of Kasmian-class cruisers. Prewar ships that were decommissioned shortly after the Battle of Balsoom and sold off to a private organization.”

  “That organization wouldn’t happen to be an offshoot of the Lavernans by any chance?” Mach said.

  “The very same,” Squid replied. “And, according to my scans, they’re recently destroyed.”

  “Define recently,” Babcock said, cocking an eyebrow and pushing his small spectacles further up on the bridge of his nose.

  “Just three standard days ago.”

  “That times perfectly with my discovery of the alien signal,” Babcock said. “I think we’re looking at the wreckage of an Atlantis ship appearance.”

  “Hell yeah,” Sanchez said. “Feels like we’re on the trail of that bastard. But where’d it go?”

  “No idea,” Babcock said. “I’d need more time to study that. Let’s hope we get clearance.”

  The group chattered about their possible next move when Lassea, with a quiet, nervous tone said, “Um, Mach, there’s a gravitational anomaly roughly two AUs beyond the wreckage. I think it’s a…” She turned back to her holoscreen and scrutinized the numbers closer.

  “Go on,” Mach urged. “What is it?”

  Squid spoke up for her, saying, “I believe the girl has located the Atlantis ship’s exit wormhole.”

  “Um, yes, that,” Lassea said, smiling, pride coming through with all the eagerness of a JP passing their advanced fighter assessment.

  “Good job, everyone,” Mach said. “We’re on the right track.”

  Adira whispered into his ear, “By the way, I like the name Intrepid. Let’s hope we actually get to let her live up to her name.”

  Mach switched the viewscreen back to the Black Swan orbital and waited for a response from the flight coordinator. When she did come back online, the suddenness of her words made him start.

  “Int
repid, dock at bay fifteen. Wait on your ship, unarmed, for a security team to fetch you. Noncompliance will result in your deaths and your ship’s confiscation. Is this clear? Over.”

  “Understood, Black Swan. We’re initiating docking procedure. Over.”

  “We’re sending coordinates for your AI-nav. Come in slow and steady and don’t try anything stupid; we have you in our sights. Over.”

  The comm line cut after the Intrepid’s AI-nav computer approved the coordinates and started to maneuver toward the docking bay.

  “Not exactly a warm welcome,” Adira said. “I think I like them already.”

  “You would,” Sanchez said.

  “What are you suggesting?” Adira said, fixing him with a steely eye.

  To Mach, Sanchez said, “Can we trade her for repairs?”

  “I’d gut you before you had the chance,” Adira said to Sanchez.

  “Easy, boys and girls,” Mach said. “No one is trading anyone. Let’s just play it by ear, shall we?”

  The Intrepid approached the spinning orbital, matching its rate of spin so that it seemed as though they were interlocked and no spin existed, the huge station blotting out any other elements from the viewscreen.

  The AI-nav brought her in slowly, docking into the allotted bay. Before the craft had a chance to land, a hangar door at the end of the bay opened and a group of fifteen heavily armed, heavily armored troops, wearing a mix of horan and vestan colors marched in, their rocket launchers and laser cannons aimed at the ship.

  “There’s a cold welcome,” Sanchez said, “and then there’s this. It doesn’t look too promising.”

  Mach had to agree. He okayed the AI-nav’s request to complete landing procedures and prepared to be boarded. He considered having Sanchez waiting somewhere with one of his modified rifles, but they were too outnumbered. No, he had to play this smart… for once.

  “Okay, ladies and gents, let’s get this over and done with. No one do anything stupid… or in your case, Adira, smart.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mach tried the cuffs on his wrists, but they continued to bite deeper. He winced and slouched back against a cold metal wall. Adira was sitting next to him, projecting an air of calm and control.