Artemis Files 0.5: Lexington

by Bradley Warnes

  It was different when you were on an attack boat because you never saw their faces or thought of them as anything more than an enemy boat trying to shoot you out of space. In person, as he’d discovered long ago during a shore action with a naval brigade sent to restore order on a troubled world, the dead clawed back at you and never left you alone once battle was over. He knew the old adage shared by veterans, that when it came to killing someone up close it was always a choice of them or you, but hearing the phrase and actually being there to experience it first hand were two different things that people didn’t understand if they haven’t been there.

  Some of the other’s he’d served with never let the memories go, turning to drunken binges or drugs to overcome the guilt, while others went emotionally dead, closing their emotions down and shutting off friends and family. He’d struggled with the morality when he was young, especially after that first boarding action on the slaver and death almost took him. He didn’t know how he managed it, but the advice of a senior rating was probably what kept him sane; and that advice was to compartmentalise the experience. You’ll never forget it, he said, but over time you’ll find a way to keep them with you but get on with life. If you don’t, then it means they win in the end and you die.

  Pausing at the hatch, Harry palmed it open and then leaned through as the echoes of gunfire sounded from around the corner. The noise pulled him back from the wandering thoughts, enabling him to focus on the struggle to save the ship.

  With Harry leaning low, he leaned over the man and saw three boarders at the gaping bridge hatch, firing inside and then ducking for cover from return fire. Behind them, two more waited at either side of the hatch, although in the quick glance he noticed one was clutching a leg instead of a weapon and tying a compression patch around the upper thigh. The second was changing out the magazines of his Minié, discarding the empty and tapping a new one into place while gathering his courage for the next time he was needed to fire into the bridge.

  “On my count, we charge them.” Harry whispered. “No more stuffing about taking potshots and getting hit in return, we’ll charge them and go toe to toe until they’re down. On three….”

  He barely heard the counting, his mind fixed on the targets and gripping the shotgun. Sliding his thumb over the selector, he unconsciously double-checked the safety was off and it was set to the second notch for semi-automatic fire. As the man beside him let out a roar and pushed around the corner, he followed suit with the same banshee cry he’d been taught to use as a rating all those years ago in basic training. With his legs carrying him forward, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

  Charging toward the enemy with time slowing down, firing as they moved, he watched as one went down from a lucky shot, quickly followed by a second with his lower torso exploding from shotgun slugs tearing through the flesh. The other boarder at the hatch didn’t hesitate. Without even looking around, he ran for the far corner in long strides and disappeared from sight unharmed, weapon dropping as he went.

  The injured man on the deck gazed in horror, scrambling backwards without his rifle and trying to use slippery, blood covered hands to pull up a pistol while the boarder beside him brought his weapon to bear upon the charging lunatics. He could see the man’s finger jerking on the trigger, caught by surprise but reacting without thought in an attempt to survive.

  The rounds were whizzing past his head and he heard Harry give a surprised grunt and then the firing went quiet with Harry’s Grail unleashing fire point blank into the face. Ignoring the sight of the head exploding, he focused on the remaining boarder who had a pistol up, aiming with a shaky grip and pulling the trigger. Even though it was point blank range, the rounds went past while his own finger squeezed the trigger of the shotgun to silence the man.

  Harry kept moving, leaping past the bridge hatch and dashing for the far corner. Crouching, the man kept firing down the other corridor while yelling curses at the boarders in sight. Taking a deep breath, he ignored Harry and leaned close to the gaping bridge door.

  “I’m a friendly… we’ve cleared the access way. I’m going to step into view, so don’t shoot!”

  Waiting for a muffled response, he peeked his head around the corner to see three of the bridge crew aiming weapons from behind stations. One of them was the skipper, and with a sigh of relief, he held the shotgun out at arms length and moved into view.

  He didn’t know how long it was after that until the others joined them. He was busy watching the privateer cast off and make a heading change to keep the Packet Boat between them and the approaching cruiser.

  Afterwards as they pieced together the battle to save the ship, it turned out that twenty-six of the boarders had been killed, with another three injured and now prisoners. On the Packet Boat, they’d lost ten of the fifteen officers and crew to enemy fire, with both Gibney and Mo taking hits and needing medical attention. To his surprise, Harry had been struck five times by enemy fire, but none of the rounds penetrated the combat skin.

  It was the same for himself and with the adrenalin rush of battle over, he discovered that he’d been shot in the side by a glancing round that left a deep score in the combat skin and a long bruise on his flesh. The finger marks on his neck hurt, but not as much as the bruise in his side when he sat down and thought about what they’d just done. It had been crazy and intense, foolish even but they had managed to save the ship.

  Farquhar was grinning while he shared how they were caught in crossfire and unable to move forward, almost like Harry’s team had been. As if it was a mirrored action, Jonty charged them under fire and cut down two of the enemy with his cutlass and then turned on the remaining privateers only to find they were running for their lives screaming in fear. Without showing his own fear, the pilot had pursued the boarders and didn’t stop chasing them until they were off the ship and he realised where he was, inside the airlock of the enemy privateer. Not expecting to survive, he escaped back out and went hunting for any others that might be lurking in the aft section of the ship.

  Clapping his hand on the back of Jonty, Farqhuar proclaimed how Mister Brilliant had saved the day and stopped the boarders from killing the two remaining engineers. With everyone offering a nod, he watched Farquhar turn to him and give a half-smile.

  Expecting the man to insult him, he was surprised at the words. “You did good too, Montclare, and maybe when this is all over you can go back to living in your palaces and hanging out with Royalty, entitled to hold your head high by achieving something worthwhile today. If you’re lucky, it might put a splinter in the eye of those that sent you out here to die in the project.”

  He was about to follow up the man’s statement when Harry pounded him on the back with his fist. “That was a crazy thing to do, charging them after the grenade went off, but it got us out of a jam. I think you’re as balmy in the head as Gibney… but I’m glad you were with me.”

  Epilogue

  Lexington Naval Yard and Depot, Independent States of America

  February, 4284

  The remaining journey from the Johnson system had been undertaken aboard the Indie Light Cruiser, while the Packet Boat limped along under its own power with extra crew to help aboard from the Indie ship. He expected that after fighting with the other members of the team, they’d be free to mingle but after going aboard found Farquhar reverted to his same program and worked hard to keep him separated.

  One of the things he did learn from the Doc, was that the privateer had transitioned from the system before the cruiser made rendezvous and based on post-battle analysis they had been identified as Franks operating under a letter of marque from the Ukie government. To his mind it made sense, even though the Frankish worlds lay on the far side of the kingdom. In latter years they had aligned closely with the United Systems Empire and roamed further through the Core Sector to cause chaos to the merchants and allies of the kingdom. This was another example, and one that had come close to unravelling some of the secrets of the Artemis Pro
ject.

  Sighing to himself, he focussed his mind and waited. He’d been on Lexington for a week now, every moment of his time continuously utilised for refresher courses in diverse fields such as Astrogation and Navigation, Engineering and Gunnery Systems, through to Commerce and Finance. Since leaving the cruiser, he hadn’t seen any of those that he’d fought with, not even Farquhar or the Doc, but had been handed over to another team of specialists that were dedicated to rush him through the preliminaries that might keep him alive for a short time.

  There had been no mention of further physical, martial or weapons training; instead they focussed on the skills that enabled him to fly the ship being given to him. Recalling comments he’d heard over the past weeks since being relegated to the project, he knew the other crews were given more in depth training and preparation, as well as additional experience in intelligence operations. For him, it was the basics and no more and as each day went past in a blur, it struck him that they really were fast-tracking him to leave as soon as possible. Whether it was in fear of contaminating the others, or for different reasons he didn’t know, instead he had no choice but to accept where they were guiding him.

  Today was going to be the first day he would actually see the Artemis Class starship being given to him, despite learning the flight manuals inside out and virtually living in sims to understand the complex systems that made the high-tech ship fly and operate. Tucked away in a remote facility in the southern reaches of Lexington, he waited in the underground bunker assigned as the temporary quarters for his guide to arrive and escort him to the ship.

  He would have a solid day and half, they said, to become familiarised with the ship on the ground and then he’d be directed out-system and sent to his final destination in the Hinterlands without even a period of time to fly it in safety. It was like his first solo flight back in the Naval Fight School, sooner or later the instructors would decide that it was time you completed a solo flight, and then a solo transition without any instructor. It was a make or break time for many, and this instance had the same feeling as he cast his mind back to those days.

  As always since being forced into the project, he knew there was a lot more going on that they weren’t telling him, and whether it was the Royal family forcing him on this banishment, the Admiralty or another bureaucratic department within the government it all came down to the same thing. Someone wanted him out of their hair, preferably permanently but not through obvious or black-ops means.

  To his mind, it would have been easier for them to just put a double-tap into the back of his skull anytime in the last month and make him disappear for good, but perhaps he did have someone watching out for him that kept him safe; a guardian Angel in the Admiralty or elsewhere keeping him from whatever Machiavellian schemes were enclosing his life.

  Holding back another sigh, he looked up as the door opened and waited as medium sized woman entered the room. Her flight suit bore no markings, but it was of an Indie design and looked well worn, giving the impression of one that flew frequently and had done so for many years. Acknowledging him with a curt nod, she scratched the fringe of ginger hair at her forehead and returned his gaze with confidence.

  “Hey there, I’m Virginia Winters, and don’t worry… that’s not my real name coz we’re all given new identities out here… except for you.” Without giving him time to respond, she pressed on. “I’m going take you out to your ship now and get you familiarised. She’s new here, only arriving last week so there’s been no time to refit her internals to the same standard as our other assets, but I don’t think you’re going to mind.”

  She laughed, and he was intrigued to note it was a genuine laugh and not one at his expense. While the light hazel eyes studied his flight suit and jacket, she stood with hands on hips.

  Imparting a friendly smile, she nodded toward the doorway. “Come with me, Bren, and see your home for the next few years… and for your sake, I hope she likes you.”

  Leading him out of the doorway, he followed her along a different series of corridors from where he had entered. This section of the base was full of underground passages and more like a rabbit warren or maze, but somehow she knew the route and led him up a small flight of stairs and to a heavy, sealed doorway guarded by a solitary figure in black combat armour and gauss rifle held at port arms.

  Along the way, he learned she was the lead test pilot for the Artemis Class vessels, personally flying each when they first arrived and signing off acceptance. Based on her word choice and exuberance, he gathered she loved her job and especially these ships.

  Showing her ID to the guard, she motioned for him to do the same and when the man was satisfied, he watched as he subvocalized a command. Behind him, the door slid open and the wide confines of a large hangar were revealed, full of shadows and darkness. Virginia bounced up the stairs and into the hangar, pausing just inside to wait for him to follow.

  When the door behind closed, she stepped to the side and accessed a display with easy familiarity, bringing up the interior lighting. As the darkness was chased away by the increasing brightness of overhead lights, the long, slender shape of the starship was revealed for the first time to his eyes. He’d seen images on flex and in the specification documents, but this was his first time to see the actual ship and he felt his breath forcibly pulled from his lungs.

  Aerodynamic, sleek, aggressive and modern… he couldn’t think of every superlative that described her and gave up digging through his mind to do so. She was beautiful, carrying the lines of a new model attack boat only three times larger and fitted with a TEL drive at the stern and the rising bulge that held the turret on the dorsal surface. Along the flanks, the distinctive bulges contained the torpedoes conforming to the aerodynamic hull with sweeping fairings and curves.

  Forgetting about the woman beside him, he stepped slowly toward the ship and found his eyes couldn’t be drawn away from the sight. Approaching beneath, he reached up to trail his fingers along the felt-like surface coating of the hull, marvelling at the warmth seeming to exude from her with his touch. It was like touching someone that had been out in the sun soaking up the rays, warm and almost hot to touch but comforting at the same time. Painted a dark grey, her hull appeared as if it was absorbing the light and using it to heat her surface for his touch.

  “She’s one of my favourites so far… out of all those I’ve piloted. I don’t know what it is about her exactly, but to me she seems to be well named. She’s the goddess of the Hunt, the Moon, and of all new things birthed into the universe… her name is DIANA.”

  Unable to answer, he slid his fingers along the underside that he could reach, marvelling at how the warmth seemed to move right through his body and bring a calming emotion through his entire being. The emotion she evoked was hard for him to place and the closest he could equate would be to finding an old friend, someone you knew closely but hadn’t seen for a very long time and discovering that friendship was still in place.

  There was an old tradition amongst pilots, and it went that some starships felt more like a human than other crew did, encouraging you to talk and make conversation to it as if it was a living being. DIANA was one of those he knew immediately, almost feeling her quiet whisper in his mind and greeting him, anticipating the time they would spend together out there in the black as Captain and Starship.

  Unable to tear his hand away from touching the vessel, he turned to the woman watching him with a pensive expression on her face and gave her a childlike grin.

  “I feel like I’m coming home….”

  Smiling at him, she waved her hands in the air toward the ship. “I think you two are going to get on just fine.” Turning her eyes to the ship, she gave a slight nod of her head. “DIANA, this is Bren, and I’m glad you like him. He’s going to take good care of you for me until you come back one day down the road.”

  Afterword

  Thank you for reading this work. If you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to leave a review at the site you
purchased it from to help others. If you haven’t purchased this work but found it by other means, be sure to tell your friends to buy it.

  This can be considered a lead-in to the Artemis Files series… but not quite a prequel. I like to consider it a side-series with some of the characters, concepts or settings explored in more depth than elsewhere. If you’ve enjoyed it and want to read more, the adventures of Bren and the starship DIANA continue in ‘Elysium’.

  The Artemis Files: 01 - Elysium

  Thrust into a dangerous game of intrigue in a race against time, a disgraced naval officer must save the girl, find the traitor, and halt damaging secrets from being sold to enemies of the realm. As an Artemis Operative, alone on his starship, his duty is to serve the kingdom and preserve it at all costs. Out of his depth, without knowing where to turn for help, he discovers trust is a word without meaning, on a planet where no crime or sin is forbidden.

  Ruled by the Stromon Cartel, Elysium is infamous in the 43rd Century as a world managed by organised crime. Nothing is sacred on Elysium, a world where every sin, pleasure, and vice is provided for by the cartel, drawing in tourists and participants to the bacchanalian revelries from across the sector. When Bren Montclare, merchant, rogue and contract mercenary, arrives at Elysium, he discovers more than he expected after responding to a distress message from a diplomatic mission in the city of Bacchus.

  The Artemis Files recount the activities of an on-going intelligence operation amidst the war torn worlds of the 43rd Century. From the Britannic Kingdom to the Independent States of America, Artemis Operatives defend against incursions by enemies in a region with no law, rules, or humanity.