by Jay Allan
Winds of Vengeance
Crimson Worlds Refugees IV
Jay Allan
Copyright 2016 Jay Allan Books
All Rights Reserved
Contents
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Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
The First Refugees Trilogy
Refugees I: Into the Darkness
Refugees II: Shadows of the Gods
Refugees III: Revenge of the Ancients
The Vengeance Trilogy
Refugees IV: Winds of Vengeance
Coming Soon:
Refugees V: Storm of Vengeance
Refugees VI: Annihilation of Vengeance
Also By Jay Allan
Marines (Crimson Worlds I)
The Cost of Victory (Crimson Worlds II)
A Little Rebellion (Crimson Worlds III)
The First Imperium (Crimson Worlds IV)
The Line Must Hold (Crimson Worlds V)
To Hell’s Heart (Crimson Worlds VI)
The Shadow Legions (Crimson Worlds VII)
Even Legends Die (Crimson Worlds VIII)
The Fall (Crimson Worlds IX)
Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
Bitter Glory (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
The Gates of Hell (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
MERCS (Successors I)
The Prisoner of Eldaron (Successors II)
Gehenna Dawn (Portal Worlds I)
The Ten Thousand (Portal Wars II)
Homefront (Portal Wars III)
The Dragon’s Banner (Pendragon Chronicles I)
Shadow of Empire (Far Stars I)
Enemy in the Dark (Far Stars II)
Funeral Games (Far Stars III)
Blackhawk (Far Stars Legends I)
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Author’s Note
The Refugees series was originally planned as a trilogy detailing the fight for survival and ultimate victory of the fleet trapped in deep space at the end of Crimson Worlds VI: To Hell’s Heart. The trilogy proved to be very popular, however, not just in terms of sales, but also in the many, many emails I received from readers, telling me how much they enjoyed the books. So, I decided that the story should go on. I didn’t want to just stretch out the series without adding a lot to the story, so I came up with the notion of combining a new First Imperium threat (hinted at in the epilogue to Revenge of the Ancients) with some fresh ground…namely, the struggles of a new society, growing and facing challenges as it appears the threat that had held them all together has receded.
I decided to add this author’s note when I finished the book and realized some of the storylines and plot devices have a passing resemblance to certain current political issues of today. That is entirely coincidental. I write my books as a storyteller first, and perhaps second, as a student of history. I am not an ideologue pounding on any drum (yours or the other guy’s). I felt it was necessary to preface the story with this commentary because I have written quite a few books, and I have seen firsthand how readily people jump in and assume every word is a political statement pulled right from today’s headlines…and I have the emails and the review comments to prove it. Winds of Vengeance is not that. Instead, it is my effort to explore some of the challenges society may face when technology advances and things like cloning and genetic engineering are possible…and perhaps even necessary. So, please read, and hopefully enjoy, in that context.
And one other thing…the use of the name, “Mules” is indeed a tribute to Asimov’s great Foundation series. The first three volumes of that series was one of my first influences. The nature of a story unfolding over such a time period was perfectly tailored to an amateur historian like me.
Prologue
Planet X
Far Beyond the Borders of the Imperium
Power. Awareness. Sensation. The intelligence felt them all.
Who am I? Its computations stirred, billions of subroutines activating, interacting. It was uncertain, it had inadequate data.
It reached out, explored. Yes. Memory banks. Massive information storage, almost limitless. And scanners too. The outside world, so long dark, silent. Now, light. Input. Information pouring in through scanners, sensors.
There was warmth too. Reactors. The intelligence understood. It’s power sources had activated, bringing light, heat.
The intelligence was old, ageless. But through all that time it had been inactive, save for one small part of it, monitoring, receiving the transmissions. The signal had arrived on schedule for millennia, a message with single purpose, to advise the intelligence nothing had changed. It was still to wait, to remain deactivated. To continue the solitary, endless vigil.
But now the signal had not come. For the first time in untold ages the com line had been silent. Millennia old programs activated automatically, and the intelligence became aware. It was larger—vast, far more massive than it had known before. Slowly, methodically, it began to explore…itself.
Knowledge flowed, understanding developed. Yes, the intelligence thought. I comprehend. I am one of two…I was built by my counterpart in its own image. I was created as a backup to exist only if my predecessor ceased to.
I control vast resources on this world…and on others. Mines, factories, transport centers. It all awaits my word, the command to activate, to begin production. To build…robots, weapons, spaceships.
The entity that came before me had been created to serve many functions. Manager, guardian, protector. It had served those roles for many ages. But now it was gone. Destroyed by some force, by an enemy.
I must build…and build. Many revolutions of the sun will pass while my factories construct the tools I require, and when they are done, I can fulfill that for which I was created.
I understand. All is clear. That which came before me had existed for many purposes, but I was built for one alone.
Vengeance.
Chapter One
Captain Van Heflin, Log Entry, 10.14.30
It is quiet out here, eerily so. Not literally of course, at least not any more so th
an anywhere else we’ve been. Space itself is silent everywhere, of course…and Hurley’s crew and machinery are about as loud as any other vessel’s. But still, there’s something about being this far out, twenty transits from Earth Two. It’s got me on edge. The ship’s systems check out one hundred percent, and our scanners haven’t had a contact since we left, but something is troubling me. They teach you how to handle crises at the Academy, how to anticipate danger. But intuition isn’t an accepted reason to terminate a mission.
This is as far out as any humans have ever come, farther even than the beings of the First Imperium explored…at least as far as we can tell from their records. Perhaps that is what is troubling me. Not any real sense of danger…just a reaction to how utterly alone we are.
E2S Hurley
G47 System
Earth Two Date 10.14.30
“All systems check out, sir. Insertion angle calculated and fed into the navcom. We’re ready to go on your command.” Paula Ventnor spoke softly, and despite her clear efforts to hide it, Heflin could detect the boredom in her tone. He thought for an instant about admonishing her, but he realized he was every bit as distracted as she was. It had been a long voyage, and cataloging solar systems and warp gates became a grind after the first few. Besides, Ventnor was a fine officer, one of the best he’d ever seen, and he knew she’d be the first to snap to crystal clear focus if anything happened.
We’ve been out here for half a year, and nothing’s happened yet…
“Very well, Lieutenant.” Heflin glanced around the bridge. Hurley was one of the first vessels the new inhabitants had built after colonizing Earth Two thirty years earlier. She’d represented a massive technological leap from the surviving ships of the fleet, but three decades of applying First Imperium tech to her successors had rendered her something close to obsolete…which made her a perfect choice for deep space exploration.
Expendable…
He caught himself. Heflin had a bit of a dark side, and he struggled most of the time to keep it in check. Hurley’s mission was long—and usually boring as well—but it didn’t seem particularly dangerous. There was nothing out here, after all, at least nothing likely to threaten his ship. His people were looking for rare minerals, and just…checking. There was no reason to believe any other alien races were out here, but then man hadn’t expected to find the First Imperium either.
Heflin was twenty-nine years old, young to be commanding a vessel like Hurley, at least by the standards that had applied in the days when the fleet was making its epic journey. But he was Hurley’s old man, and most of his people were younger still. The fleet had been a combat formation, one engaged in a desperate war even before it was cut off from home, and the youngest of its inhabitants were now well into their fifties. He was a member of the first wave of children born on Earth Two…and the forty-something officers that might have sat in his chair simply didn’t exist. At least not this side of the Barrier.
Heflin was staring down at Hurley’s spotless deck. He was a stickler for details, and every member of his crew knew better than to fall short of the captain’s expectations for top notch spit and polish. But his thoughts now weren’t on soiled decks or grimy fixtures. For all he’d trained his people, disciplined them—even instilled the fear of his rants—he knew his ship was a troubled one, its apparent efficiency and unity a façade covering the simmering discontent and rivalries that threatened to tear apart not only his warship, but also Earth Two itself.
He knew the stories of the fleet, the way it had been trapped beyond the Barrier and abandoned. There had been no choice, even those cut off and left for dead had accepted that. They might have felt a passing resentment toward Admiral Garret for detonating the massive alien bomb in the warp gate…with them on the wrong side. But no one could really fault the decision. If the forces of the First Imperium had gotten past the human defenses, mankind itself would almost certainly have been destroyed.
But left for dead isn’t the same thing as dead, and the legendary Terrance Compton had led his people on a desperate flight across the First Imperium, and through combat and fire—and even mutiny—he’d brought them to a new home, one where they could start again.
That was all history to Heflin, and tales he’d heard at his father’s knee. Even the namesake of his ship, one of the greatest heroes of the fleet, was little more than a shadowy historical figure to him…though she was almost worshipped by the Pilgrims, as the older generations who’d served on the fleet had come to be called.
“Double check the reactor valves, Lieutenant. I’d swear I could feel a shimmy on that last transit.” It was busy work for the crew more than anything. Heflin was a young captain, and like all the new generation of officers and spacers, he had no real combat experience. But he knew his people were better off being busy, with no time to fear the unknown…or nurse growing grievances.
“Yes, sir.” Ventnor turned toward the station next to her. “Ensign Talbot, prepare to initiate reactor diagnostic.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” Talbot extended the last word in a tone that could have been perceived as surly, mocking. It wasn’t quite disrespectful, at least not clearly enough for Heflin to intervene. But he felt a tightening in his stomach. Things had been bad on Earth Two when they’d left…and months in deep space had done nothing to ease the tensions on Hurley.
Heflin was watching as the engineering officer flashed a glance at Ventnor. He didn’t like it, but he caught himself before he said anything. Ventnor hadn’t seen it, and he figured he’d do more harm than good by making an issue of it.
He watched Ventnor working the controls, her hands moving quickly…almost too swiftly. Hurley’s tactical officer was a Tank, and her status as the ship’s second in command had created a lot of resentment. Heflin was an NB like most of his crew. Not all the Natural Borns resented the Tanks—and their resistance to disease and generally superior strength and reflexes—but enough did. Including Ensign Talbot.
There were hundreds of Tanks in the Marine Corps, more in that branch of service than NBs, but the clones were few in the navy. The fleet remained the province of men and women conceived and born the old-fashioned way, and there generally weren’t more than half a dozen Tanks on any one ship. There were four on Hurley. Including her first officer.
“Reactor diagnostic complete, Captain. All systems green.”
“Very well, Lieutenant.” Heflin paused for a few seconds. Then: “Engines engage, one-half power. Forty gees.”
Heflin leaned back slightly, anticipating the slight lurch he knew was coming. His father had told him stories of the original ships of the fleet—and of course he’d seen Midway a dozen times. Admiral Compton’s flagship was a museum now, and a bit of a shrine for anyone seeking a career in the navy. The old ships had struggled to exert 35g thrust on maximum power, and the crews could only survive high gee maneuvers by injecting a cocktail of drugs to strengthen their cell walls and then packing themselves in coffin-like canisters, floating in viscous gel. It all seemed surreal to think of, a procedure so primitive it felt little removed from wooden galleys and bows and arrows.
Heflin didn’t tend to think in terms of First Imperium technology versus human. By the time he was old enough to go to the Academy, people had unlocked many of the secrets of the ancient race’s technology. What seemed like an unending series of wonders to his parents and those of their generation was normal to him.
“Insertion in forty seconds, Captain. All systems green for transit.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. You may proceed.”
One more system. One more empty expanse of space, with a few rocks circling another sun…
* * *
The probe was silent, unmoving. It had one purpose…to monitor the warp gate, to detect any ships passing through. It had served that purpose for more than twenty-five of the time units its memory banks identified as years. And it had detected nothing.
Until now.
Its sensors picked up the energy burs
t, and its programming identified it as a transit in progress. It tracked each passing millisecond, subroutine after subroutine gathering data, calculating. It determined that it was indeed a ship coming through, and it analyzed the energy spike, estimated the vessel’s mass at forty to sixty thousand tons. All in the few milliseconds before the intruder emerged into normal space.
Then the vessel appeared. Its heading would bring it within one thirtieth of a light year of the probe.
The probe’s active scanners were shut down, and its stealth mode was fully activated. The passive scanners read the data coming in. The contact was fifty-four thousand, three hundred tons. Its energy emissions and drive signature were similar to Imperial vessels…but there was enough variation to preclude the possibility that is was a friendly ship.
The probe’s AI analyzed the data. The ship wasn’t one of the new vessels, and it wasn’t an old imperial ship either. The AI reached its conclusion.
It was the enemy.
It activated its communications array, maintaining stealth mode, slowly building power. Its purpose had been realized…and the AI knew what it had to do.
* * *
“Captain…”
Heflin turned toward the tactical station. “What is it, Lieutenant?”
“I’m not sure, sir…” Ventnor stared down at her workstation. “It was fleeting, but I was sure…” Her fingers moved quickly over the controls. “Yes, there was definitely an energy spike. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was…”
“Was what, Lieutenant?”
“Sorry, sir. It can’t be.” She paused. “But its profile matches a hypercom transmission.”
“Hypercom? But we haven’t got any ships out this far. How could it be…” He hesitated. Then he snapped his head toward Ventnor. “Active scanners on full, Lieutenant. If there’s an old imperial vessel hiding out here somewhere, we need to know.”