Space Fleet Sagas Foundation Trilogy: Books One, Two, and Three in the Space Fleet Sagas

by Don Foxe

  Patterson allowed the echo of her words to settle over those in attendance. Space Fleet now had a mandate to protect more than Earth . . . more than humans.

  “These past few decades of incredible tragedy, and equally incredible discovery, have strengthened our sense of community. We are now offered a defining purpose . . . a purpose the entire world can stand behind with pride.”

  Patterson allowed her words to resonate within the room. She then began her first mission as Fleet Admiral.

  “Dr. Nathan Trent is on his way to MSD with a tech team. Admiral Singletary, please prepare MSD to receive a shipment of crystals, laser arrays, and various other parts and equipment from the Martian Hanger. Dr. Trent already notified his people with a list of what is needed to fit the alien vessel with a temporary [emphasized] space-fold engine.

  “Col. Gregory, please turn out your Special Mission battalion. You can decide how many to take with you, and who to leave behind for the protection of MSD and the Mars habitats. Upon determining how many of your people will go with you to assist Captain Cooper, please coordinate with Genna regarding on-board housing, and locations for your equipment and supplies.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gregory replied. “With time critical, Admiral, permission to leave?”

  “Dismissed and God’s speed, Colonel. Lieutenant Commander Parry.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied the Intelligence officer.

  “I need your people analyzing the data Kennedy received from the aliens, as well as the data dump from Captain Cooper, and all ship’s logs since SFPT-109 started her trial. Liaison with my intelligence people on EMS2 and with the civilian intelligence people at UEC world h.q. in Ottawa.”

  Before Parry could interject, Patterson informed him, “Kennedy is sending complete information to those locations. Your people should already have access to everything on site. Correct, Kennedy?”

  “Data streaming now,” the AI replied.

  “Permission to leave?” Parry asked, pushing back and standing.

  “Granted,” Patterson replied. “Admiral Singletary.”

  “Yes, Admiral Patterson.” The MSD commander’s strained response telling. Not a happy camper ceding control of his meeting.

  “Kennedy informs me Lieutenants Nasser, Dominczyk, and Lieutenant JG Johnson are aboard and currently running diagnostics. These three were among the finalists vetted to join the PT-109 at the end of its trial flight, correct?”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “Please have them remain on board for the return mission. Give them time to grab their kits, but make sure they hurry. They can complete diagnostics on the return trip to join Captain Cooper.”

  “As soon as we finish the meeting, I will have Lt. Lawrence inform them.”

  “Then make it so, Admiral. We have a lot to accomplish in a short time.”

  “If I may, Admiral Patterson,” Singletary said. “The 109 will need a Captain aboard until we recover Captain Cooper. We need an experienced office on site in case Captain Cooper is compromised or captured. He abandoned his ship, and his mission, and placed himself among aliens with no way of knowing if they had ulterior motives.” Singletary wanted to make sure his opinion made it onto the official logs.

  “Captain Black is present. The Captain is trained on the systems. She will command the FDR, as soon as it is space-worthy. I suggest she be placed in command of SFPT-109 for this mission.”

  Patterson shifted on screen for a better view of the female captain. Captain Black stood to attention, recognizing her place at the moment.

  “Captain Black, you will take temporary command of the SFPT-109 for the return flight to recover Captain Cooper. You are to make contact with the alien ship. You will endeavor to recover Captain Cooper without any hostile actions, but if they resist, do what you believe justified. As soon as Captain Cooper is able to resume command of the PT-109, you will hand over the bridge. At such time you will act as first officer until your return to MSD. Do you understand your orders, Captain Black?”

  “Understood, ma’am.”

  “Genna, you are the ship’s avatar and designated a civilian.” Patterson spoke to Genna with the same stern control in her voice she used with the officers as she handed out their orders. “You are also somewhat novel for Space Fleet, and the military as a whole. In order this mission, a military mission, runs smoothly, and for the duration of your time aboard PT-109, you will hold the title of Ship’s Counselor. You are now designated as a member of Space Fleet. You have the rank equivalent of a lieutenant. Basically, your function is to act as a communications liaison between the crew and the ship, as well as between Space Fleet and alien contacts. You are Earth’s first interstellar ambassador. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Admiral. May I add something?” the avatar asked.

  “Go ahead,”

  “I have taken the last name of Bouvier,” she informed the Admiral and the room. “Is that allowed?”

  “Ship’s Counselor, Genna Bouvier.” Patterson said it aloud. She smiled for the first time. “I like it Counselor. A fine name, and fitting for the avatar of the John F. Kennedy. The records will be amended to show the change of name and status.”

  “Admiral Singletary, and Captain Black. Counselor Bouvier’s title and rank convey designation to the command lane. She is now third highest ranking officer aboard the PT-109. Upon Admiral Singletary’s departure, she is elevated to second. Col. Gregory outranks her by grade, but is unable to assume command of the ship unless dire circumstances force him to do so.”

  Admiral Singletary, because of his dark skin, did not display his rising blood pressure. He only nodded. Captain Black fired off a “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Kennedy, please facilitate traffic with MSD, Mars, and the arrival of Dr. Trent from EMS2. It is about to become extremely hectic aboard the 109. Admiral Singletary, unless you have more, I need to return to my people. We need to start setting us up for a potential war, or the potential arrival of a quarter of a million alien refugees. I suggest you start doing the same.”

  “Yes, Admiral. Meeting adjourned, with your permission?” The freshly minted Fleet Admiral gave a nod, and her image disappeared.

  “You have your orders,” Singletary said to Black, Lawrence, Bouvier and, one assumed, Kennedy. “Dismissed.”

  PART 2

  ABOARD THE STAR GAZER.

  ABOARD THE PT-109.

  Chapter 32

  In the subsequent twenty-four hours, the SFPT-109 transformed from prototype to staffed and capable warship.

  The crew assigned consisted of Col. Gregory plus twenty-four Special Mission Combat Marines, with their own communications Sergeant, Field Surgeon, Captain Bahadur Singh, and three medical corpsmen.

  A Chief Quartermaster, and his crew of eight;

  Chief Engineer, and crew of five.

  Four nurses assigned to Captain Singh.

  A galley crew of six.

  A compliment of eight junior officers, with a variety of specialties.

  Dr. Trent arrived with his tech team of twelve.

  Including Captain Black and Genna, the total bodies aboard PT-109 came to seventy-five. The number shy of the 109’s maximum compliment of eighty-six, but certainly not the mix of personnel originally intended for the spaceship.

  Kennedy assigned quarters to personnel as they reported for duty.

  With little to do while in dock, pilots were assigned other duties. Lt.JG Johnson acted as the OOD for the initial eight hours, followed by a second Lt.JG pilot.

  When Dr. Trent arrived from EMS2 aboard his private shuttle, he asked Kennedy, and the Purser in charge of supplies, to oversee cargo stored in a manner to leave plenty of space in the hangar area near the ramp. Col. Gregory had previously made sure the shuttle, LBJ, was not hampered from being deployed or recovered.

  The temporary purser for the 109 was LCMD Henry Smith, a substantial, black block of granite. He demonstrated the widest smile, and the whitest teeth Genna had ever seen. He could go from laug
hing at a joke, to barking an order like a pit bull in a blink. His normal assignment was as the Command Supply Officer for the MSD and planet-side missions. One of Daniel Cooper’s few friends, he designated himself purser for the 109’s return mission.

  “Good evening, Counselor Bouvier,” Lieutenant Commander Smith said, looking down on the much smaller woman. “It is a pleasure to serve with you aboard the PT-109,” and he gave her a real smile.

  “Please, Commander Smith, call me Genna.” She decided she liked the big man.

  “And you call me ‘SUPPO,’” he replied. “Or Henry,” he added with a wink.

  “Suppo? An odd nickname.”

  “Short for Supply Officer,” he explained. “Been the nickname of chief pursers and supply officers since the British navy ruled the Earth’s oceans and seas.”

  “Henry is coming along, instead of sitting with his feet perched on his desk, because he and Captain Cooper have been buddies for a number of years,” Trent informed Genna. “The two of them are responsible for the destruction of a number of drinking establishments on Earth over the past couple of decades.”

  “All in good fun,” Suppo smiled. “No one ever hurt, ‘cept those deserving it, and we always paid for the damages.”

  “Coop always paid,” Trent corrected.

  “True, but in fairness, he did most of the damage,” the Fleet officer winked at Genna. “I have a package for you — Genna. Picked it up myself, by order of Admiral Patterson herself.”

  Suppo excused himself, and left to retrieve a package and a box from a storage locker. Returning, he handed the box to Genna, and placed the bulky paper-wrapped bundle on top.

  Genna thanked the Lt. Commander, who excused himself to attend to the packing of the 109.

  Genna stood, packages in hand, beside Dr. Trent in the rear of the hangar. Both silently watching the latest equipment arrive. Now twelve hours into preparations; nearing midnight of the fifteenth day. Safety containers with crystals, laser arrays, and other assorted technical equipment moved from a shuttle, backed up to the hangar, into the open cavity of the patrol boat via grav-sleds. LCMD Smith’s men then pushed the high-tech containers to the far end of the bay, finally into lock-down storage.

  “Go get sleep,” Trent told the avatar. “I realize your metabolism will allow you to go an extended amount of time, but there is a lot ahead of us. It’s obvious you haven’t slept for a while.”

  “Don’t know if I could,” Genna replied. “Between the activity, and being worried about what might happen out there.” She peered at the open ramp, but she looked billions of miles away.

  “You need to rest, and Kennedy needs a break from you as well. When we get to Coop, everyone will need to be on their best game. Even if you don’t fall asleep, break the connection with the ship, lay in bed, and let your body recover.”

  Recalling Captain Cooper’s admonishment of ‘sleep is a weapon,’ Genna departed for her cabin. At nearly the same moment across the solar system, Coop did likewise.

  Chapter 33

  Midnight GMT. The John F. Kennedy.

  Time becoming a critical issue.

  In seventy-four hours the Primary ships would overtake the Star Gazer in the void between Neptune and the edge of the solar system.

  It would take six more hours to prep the 109 for flight and eighty-two hours in space-fold for them to reach the Star Gazer, which steadily moved closer, but at only 40,000mph.

  The math said the PT-109 would not arrive until fourteen hours after the battle began.

  “Dr. Trent,” Kennedy interrupted his thoughts as he watched the steady stream of equipment and cargo coming aboard the ship. Another hour gone. An hour they would not recover.

  “Yes, Kennedy.”

  “I have been monitoring the video from the telescope on the Mars 6 satellite, as well as the data streaming from the Star Gazer. Captain Cooper obviously considered it vital we remained informed. At current speeds, the warships tracking the Osperantue cruise ship will make contact fourteen hours before we arrive. They appear to be heavily armed. Angel 7 can likely outrun and outmaneuver them, but she will be vastly outgunned.”

  “Captain Cooper will not try to outrun them,” Trent said. “Not in his nature.”

  “Agreed,” the AI responded. “I have attempted to formulate other options, but have failed. I have even attempted to think of insane solutions, but I do not believe I am human enough.”

  “Insane solutions,” Trent repeated. “You only accept you cannot accomplish something, when you accept you are not willing to try.”

  The scientist continued to watch dock workers sort cargo, but his eyes focused well beyond the confines of the spaceport.

  Chapter 34

  6:00am GMT. The Star Gazer.

  Cooper woke before the alarm sounded. Sixty-eight hours before the Zenge would overtake the cruise ship. In a half-hour the crew member monitoring deep-space scans would inform him PT-109 had left Mars and entered space-fold. He knew the 109 better than any other ship, and he knew, at best speed, she would arrive fourteen hours after the confrontation began.

  Messages from MSD were collected and translated aboard the Star Gazer. Most were cryptic and incomplete, Fleet recognizing the possibility of Zenge intercepts. Bottom line: help coming, but late to the party.

  6:00am GMT. The John F. Kennedy.

  “Engage the space-fold drive,” Captain Black issued the order to LTJG Johnson in the pilot’s seat.

  “Engaging,” he replied, and the PT-109 entered space-fold. “Eighty-two hours until exit,” he said aloud.

  Captain Black sat in her command chair. She crossed her long legs, and rested her arms on the chair. She would commence battle drills in two hours, as she prepared her put-together crew for the expected encounter with aliens.

  “Operations, report,” she commanded.

  Lt. Dominczyk, the communications specialist, was doing double duty, also manning the operations console. “All systems go,” she reported. “We are one-hundred percent across the board, Captain.”

  “Counselor Bouvier, your presence is not required on the bridge. You are dismissed.”

  Genna, dressed in a spick-and-span Space Gray uniform, complete with silver lieutenant bars on her white shirt collar, Earth/Comet emblem of Space Fleet on her shoulder and, most importantly, the name tag with BOUVIER over her right chest, replied “Yes, ma’am.”

  She removed herself from the command bridge, walking away in her ultramodern matte-black combat boots made of pliable kevlar composites.

  The clothing came with a note inside a note. A congratulation from Admiral Patterson, with three gifted uniforms, and an explanation. The request for the boots received as a private communication for the Admiral, included in a data drop from the solar system’s rim. The message, inside the note, sent by Captain Cooper to Genna.

  It read: “Kick Ass.”

  2:00pm GMT. The Star Gazer.

  Cooper, Sky, and Storm were called to the bridge by Captain Poonch.

  He greeted their arrival with, “Your recommendation I request assistance from the civilians aboard has paid off again,” he said to Cooper, before making it five-feet through the door. The excitement clear on the Bosine’s face.

  “It seems we have aboard several engineers, technicians and even scientists who previously worked with engines, dynamos, and similar power stations. One of them came up with the idea of calibrating the dynamo to shift power from non-endangered areas to areas being targeted by laser fire, or any weapon’s fire for that matter.

  “In theory we can add layers to the forcefield at a targeted section of the hull, reducing to preventing damage. We could move these layers wherever they are most needed.”

  “In theory?” Cooper asked.

  “They agree they can create surges in the forcefield, and those surges directed to within one-hundred feet of a targeted area. They would need a way to know where to send the extra layers. They would also need at least a four to six-second warning. The fu
rther the target is from the dynamo, the longer it will take to move the additional layers into place.”

  Storm, pushing the crew member in front of the forward video screen out of his chair, said, “I can do this.” She started manually inputting programming information into the video system, stopped, jumped up, and ran towards the Engineering Station two consoles away. The crew member swiftly getting out of her way before getting dumped.

  She bent over the manual keyboard again, fingers flying.

  Cooper looked to Sky, who could only shrug her shoulders in the human body-language equivalent of, ‘haven’t a clue.’

  Storm ran back-and-forth between the consoles twice more, before finally settling in front of the video monitor. She swiveled around to face the curious faces waiting impatiently to discover what she had been trying to accomplish.

  “I’ve taken the ship’s ultra high-def optics system and taught it how to watch for weapons’ flashes. I wrote an algorithm which will not only identify the weapon, but determine line of fire, then target impact location in nano-seconds. The target accuracy is within one-hundred feet. Next, I interfaced with engineering, specifically the dynamo subroutine, to relay the target location. From time of enemy fire, to the time the forcefield surge is directed takes less than three-seconds, but . . .,” and she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

  “But what?” The question came from Poonch. His impatience, and his need to know a physical weight on his heart.

  “But the system will have limits. Capable of deflecting single fire. If they fire multiple lasers, or missiles, or projectiles at the same time, the shields will stop three for sure, four maybe, but number five would hit a depleted shield.”