Edge of Solace (A Star Too Far)

by Casey Calouette

  Too many missiles would get through. He’d do no one any good as a dead ship on the field.

  “Abe. Blink,” William ordered.

  The reactor panel surged into the red and dropped back down to normal.

  William watched the starscape, waiting for it to change.

  Nothing.

  “Blink failed!” Hudson yelled.

  “Abe?” William said in an urgent voice.

  “It, uh. Huh. It doesn’t work.”

  “Shit.”

  The missiles exploded in a staccato burst. The hull shuddered as the combined force easily pierced through the weakened grav shields. Plasma and alloy shrapnel pierced the hull.

  “Breaches. Uh, all over.” Hudson scrambled fingers over the keys. “Grav shields gone, armor compromised on that flank. Sealant is flowing.”

  William sniffed and could smell that subtle cinnamon tang. Vacuum sealant.

  “Hudson, can you help Abe?” William asked.

  Hudson shook his head. “Negative, Captain. Not my area of expertise.”

  William looked back up to the displays. His railguns fired as quickly as the charging systems allowed. The projectiles continued to sling towards the Sa’Ami battleship. The big bastard glowed intensely. The Terror drifted behind the other heavies, but she too continued to pour weaponry onto it.

  “More missiles,” Lebeau said in barely a whisper.

  “Abe, listen, check the console. Look for any alerts or errors. Try to reset it,” William said as quickly as he could. Sweat formed on his brow. The missiles were coming.

  The line of missiles was pecked at by the mass drivers but the force wasn’t enough. They continued closer.

  The bulk of the Sa’Ami fleet was focusing on the line of UC cruisers. All hostile railguns, mass drivers, and missiles, smashed against the UC heavies. The nimble light frigates passed through the last of the Sa’Ami ships and turned.

  Tones sounded.

  William snapped his eyes up to the damage indicator. Nothing. The missiles were still thirty seconds out.

  “Contacts!” Lebeau cheered and slapped at her console.

  The screen expanded out. A line of six Caribbean class battlecruisers appeared a handful of kilometers away. On the opposite of them a trio of Bastogne class battleships blinked.

  “One more!” Lebeau yelled gleefully.

  The bulk of the carrier Everest dropped onto the field. The majority of the UC Third fleet was engaged.

  “Ping tacnet, priority on the missiles!” William yelled.

  Before Lebeau could reply, the UC ships around them spoke for her. A wall of mass driver slugs destroyed the Sa’Ami missiles in droves. The expanding wall of plasma surged against the Malta, just enough to scorch her armor.

  William’s heart surged and raced. Around him a battle raged like nothing anyone had ever planned for. Complete fleet engagements were unheard of. The Bastogne battleships opened up and focused on their Sa’Ami counterpart. The Sa’Ami fired the devastating cannon once more and took a glowing chunk out of the nose of the battleship, Italy.

  “They’re blinking,” Lebeau called out.

  The lead of the Sa’Ami fleet blinked away. Droneships, a pair of battered cruisers, and a single heavy cruiser. Those further back, including the Sa’Ami battleship, received a savage rain of projectiles.

  This could be it. The end of the war, right here, William thought. The Sa’Ami went all in, and lost.

  Triumph spread through him. His railguns added a small stream of fire. The most urgent threat was gone. They would survive.

  “Got it!” Abraham yelled over the comms. “Here we go!”

  William looked up in horror as the starscape shifted.

  The Malta blinked.

  The starscape changed. The remnants of the Sa’Ami fleet was scattered around them. A pair of the droneships were a few hundred meters off.

  “Burn away from ‘em, down!” William yelled. The only imperative was velocity, enough velocity to trigger another blink back to the fleet.

  Lebeau broke out into laughter.

  William snapped his head to the side and looked at Lebeau with unbelieving eyes.

  “Look!” She cried out, pointing to her screen.

  The Sa’Ami ships were trapped in the midst of the rest of the Third fleet. Arrayed in a semi-circle was a pair of Bastogne class battleships supported by a pack of Serengeti class frigates. Just like the Malta.

  *

  The Malta maneuvered with the remainder of the fleet and blinked to the other side. The Bosporus system was littered with starship wreckage. The trio of xeno devices stood like sentinels. The Sa’Ami fleet had fallen, but the barrier stood.

  *

  “Comms request from the Everest,” Mahi stated. She placed the feed onto the center display.

  William stood and straightened himself. “Put it on.”

  A man, small of stature with thin shoulders, stood before him. His eyes were narrowed and framed by a thin pair of augmented glasses. The pips of an Admiral rested on his shoulders.

  “Lieutenant Grace,” he said in a heavy Dutch accent.

  “Admiral Mesman,” William said.

  “We received your courier.” The Admiral looked down as only a senior officer could.

  “How did you know we’d be at the Bosporus system?” William asked.

  “The Erebus sent a courier, you were on the scan moving away. We knew there were two routes to the rendezvous. Quite simply luck.”

  William felt himself at a loss for words. Luck.

  “Your presence is requested on the Everest. After this action I’m going to recommend you for your own command.”

  “Yes, sir!” William replied. “May I transfer my wounded?”

  “Absolutely Mr. Grace, and Major Theodore as well.”

  “The infantry?” William asked.

  Admiral Mesman cast his eyes aside to someone off the display. He wrinkled his nose and stiffened himself up. “Yes, we’ll reform them into another unit. The remainder of that unit is, inaccessible.”

  “Who will have command of the Malta, Admiral?”

  “Captain Khan has convinced me that she is well enough to take the Malta again,” Admiral Mesman said with a thin smile.

  “Yes, sir,” William said. Khan. It was still her ship, but it hurt. He felt a touch of relief that he wasn’t facing a court martial.

  A bright smile broke the Admiral’s hard face. “A damned fine day for a victory, be sure you bring a jacket for this evening’s dinner. We have an exceptional meal planned for this victory.”

  The screen blinked to dark.

  William felt like he was standing somewhere else. He had everything he’d hoped for. His eyes took in the bridge. The Malta, his first real command. It was bitter, so much laid down to achieve one victory. He wondered how much more would be paid to win the war.

  He took a few steps and stood next to the door. “Ms. Lebeau, you have command.” The door opened and he marched off the bridge.

  End

  Hello Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Edge of Solace. I’ve had many of you write me and ask what’s next for William Grace. Well, we set him on the path to war in Edge of Solace, now the trilogy is done, Edge of Redemption comes out on August 22nd. Will we find William living happily ever after? Not quite, not in this universe. You’ll find a sample of the next book in a couple of pages.

  When I wrote Trial by Ice I got so many letters asking about the book, the characters, the universe. Some had opinions about the Navy, the characters, and the plot. So I made sure to incorporate some details and questions into Edge of Solace.

  As an author I love honest feedback. You are the reason I’ve explored William as a character. So, tell me what you loved or hated. You can write me at casey@caseycalouette.com or find me at http://caseycalouette.com

  Finally I need to ask a favor. If you’re so inclined, I’d love an honest review of Edge of Solace. Loved it, hated it, - I’d just enjoy your feedback.


  As you may notice on my books reviews are hard to come by. You, the reader, have the power to make or break a book. If you have the time, here’s a link to my author page at Amazon. You can find a list of all of my books here : http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004IWHH8O

  Thank you so much for reading Edge of Solace and for spending your time with me.

  Graciously,

  Casey

  On the next page is the exciting beginning of the third book in the series, Edge of Redemption

  Get it, August 22nd, 2014 - http://www.amazon.com/CaseyCalouette/e/B004IWHH8O

  CHAPTER ONE

  The star burned a deep abyssal blue. It had a name but no one cared. The system was a ponderous place. A place of little value. Without resources, development was nonexistent. It was visited only because it was on the way to places that were worthwhile.

  Belts of rock drifted. Rocks of stone, iron, and just enough nickel to make a miner dream. The remnants of dreams littered the system. Abandoned mining platforms, drone probes, even a refinery. All testaments to failure.

  Mao Chen was not interested in failure. But it seemed quite interested in him.

  “Dammit,” he whispered.

  His mind kept playing the conversation he would have with his family. The family who invested everything in his shipping operation. The family who would be left with nothing. Well, not nothing, just a cargohold filled with goods that no one would want besides the Harmony Worlds or a newly founded colony.

  Across the room, his nephew, Wei, squatted next to a battered console. “Shit, junk!”

  “I thought you were good at this?” Mao asked.

  “I am, this is just—” He stopped and hissed. “Shit!” Wei looked up to his uncle. Rings grew under his eyes like an eighty year-old man.

  “Enough!” Mao said.

  Wei glared across the room. He straightened himself out and plopped down. The chair was a relic of an age before gravity generators. An age when straps were necessary. He settled himself in and crossed his arms across his chest. “You said—”

  “I said if you fix it. If it’s not fixed, nothing.”

  Wei leaned forward and sighed. Above him the displays flickered and blinked. Seemingly at random the screens would shatter into a wall of white static. Only the center of the screens was visible—the edges and corners blurred with two generations of wiping and accumulated grime.

  Mao would have cast him out if he wasn’t family. He was cheap—of that, he was thankful. But he was an addict—of that, he was not.

  “Hey?” Mao held out a slender data packet with an orange stencil of a garish girl on the side.

  Wei perked up. His eyes squinted. “Season seven, episode nine, I’ve got it.”

  “Here?” Mao dangled it from side to side.

  Wei licked his lips. “No.”

  “Then fix it!” Mao screamed across the bridge. “See? Greed is good. It motivates you.”

  The screen leveled out before Wei could try again. The flickering disappeared. Mao hissed at his nephew and studied the display.

  Halfway across the system the rest of the convoy was burning towards Earth. Or, at least, in the same direction. A line of comms requests was scattered on another screen. They all said the same thing in different words. Hurry up, we’re not waiting.

  “Look! You cheap bastard, they blinked. Greed is good you say. I told you,” Wei yelled through a screwdriver crimped in his brown teeth.

  Mao waved him off. “How was I supposed to know? We saved fuel on the way out.”

  “You’ll get us killed, they’ll come from behind and slit our throats because you’re too damned cheap.”

  Mao ignored him and sat up in the chair. His ship, the Greater Prosperity of the Rising Ocean, was on a gentle fuel saving plot. It’d take longer, much longer, but it was also much less expensive. Every time they blinked, it cut five percent from his profits.

  The screen danced and settled.

  “Hey, hey! Don’t touch!” Mao yelled.

  “Give it to me. It’s working, right? Give it to me?” Wei backed away from the console.

  “Gah.” Mao tossed the chip across the bridge and sent it ricocheting down the slender hall.

  Wei chased after with the look of glee only an addict could wear. He disappeared down a hallway along the spine of the freighter. Cargo locks dotted the way. The ship was surrounded with wedge-shaped containers with a Haydn drive on one end.

  The ship groaned as gravity generators compensated for Wei. With every step, more generators fired and surged new stresses. Alloy bent, steel moaned, and the weight settled.

  Mao cringed. He could picture the fuel rods burning away like a candle guttering in the wind.

  The screen flickered. Mao prayed. A new message appeared. His reed thin fingers danced on the yellowed console. “Shit, bastards,” Mao whispered.

  The message was a simple set of blink coordinates. They were effectively abandoning them. He could catch up, if he wasn’t flying in an ancient relic patched together with dreams and prayers.

  It all started so well, he thought. A contact in the Harmony Worlds followed by a trading voucher. The other merchants looked down on him in their fancy ships. All he’d need was one run. One run to buy that fancy ship, fire his nephew, pay off his family and he was on his own.

  Instead, the war started. Two blinks out and the scattered remnants of the UC fleet told the story. The Harmony Worlds had dealt a deadly blow. So much for my tax dollars, he thought.

  He felt lucky that the Hun—god, he hated that word—hit the planets first and let them flee. Why bother with a ship when an entire world was open to plunder?

  The metallic groans stopped. The reactor settled back into the same groove it had occupied for a century and a half. Mao pulled out a small tablet and started to plot his way home.

  Digits danced on his mind, and not kilometers, but dollars. With every blink, he winced. Not only would he lose money getting back to Earth, but also travelling out once more to sell. He groaned. The profit kept falling.

  Mao’s stomach started to roll. Anything that reduced the profit had a tendency to make him ill.

  The screen flickered and settled once more. A horizontal gray line burned a bar across the center of the nav display. A white dot appeared in the middle.

  Mao squinted and laid the tablet down with a trembling hand. It was a blink signature. A blink almost on top of the convoy.

  “Wei!” Mao boomed. “You useless son of a goat! Get up here!”

  A second white dot appeared. The green icons of the convoy hovered and continued moving. They were at a point where they could only burn forward, burn back, or blink to a celestial even farther away from safety.

  Groans echoed from the hull as the gravity generators announced Wei’s passage. The addict stood with relaxed eyes and a dazed look on his face.

  “Warm the Haydn up,” Mao said.

  Wei rolled his eyes. The rings around his eyes were gone but the tension of an addict remained. “Can it wait?”

  Mao pointed.

  Wei followed Mao’s fingers. His face drooped as his jaw hung down. He turned and scurried down the corridor.

  The groan of the hull announced Wei’s departure back to where the Haydn drive resided. The groans spread even faster than before.

  The white dots turned to red. The convoy data stream updated the newcomers: Harmony World raiders. Light corvettes blinked in and were approaching the convoy. He didn’t expect a message warning him—the stream of information was more than enough. He knew the ships across the system had enough troubles that they weren’t worried about him.

  His orbit slung them out and away from the hostilities. The red icons burned closer to the rest of the convoy. Burning away from him. He was watching dead men. His heart skipped a beat and he felt the doom of bad luck. He was as superstitious as he needed to be.

  The light from the ships was nearly thirty minutes old. In less than thirty minutes the red icons would reach the green of
the convoy. The fancy ships filled with fancy goods wielded no weapons.

  A gray faced speaker crackled on the bulkhead. “One hour.”

  Mao stood slowly. He set the tablet down onto the wood paneled table and began to pace. His knees popped with each step. He pondered the course he was on. He ignored the fact that there was a battle going on. Quite one-sided, of that he was sure. If anything, it bought him time, and time was what he needed. If he used the Haydn, they’d see it, but where would it take him? He was still inside the system, maybe a few astronomical units.

  Icons winked out and were replaced with question marks. Finally the last icon disappeared and the pair of hostile icons dimmed. The display showed the last bits of data. Zero acceleration. Vector and velocity matched the wrecks. The raiders were pacing with the wrecks.

  Below him the paint on the open strip of bridge was worn away, showing the glint of steel. Real steel, not alloy. Someone else had paced the same place. Mao felt a connection to the past. More of a connection to some long dead Captain than to the dead souls half a solar system away. It bothered him for a split second. Then he saw how he would survive where they wouldn’t.

  Open communications crackled. Men called for help. Men pleaded, begged, cried. Then silence.

  He felt particularly lucky. If he had blinked with the rest, he’d be dead. He was running silent, still, with hardly a blip from his reactor. The only way they’d find him was if they went active and scanned for him.

  The thought of the dead men didn’t bother him. He was sure they’d not shed any tears for an old Chinese trader if the roles were reversed.

  The groan in the hull announced Wei’s return.

  “Well?”

  “We continue on,” Mao said.

  Wei looked back with wide eyes. A nervous tic fired in his cheek.

  “Look.” Mao nodded to the display.

  The display flickered and pulsed. The icons were gray question marks showing last known positions.