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

by Don Foxe

  The male, looking fitter, trotted up to the bars when he recognized Coop.

  Without fear or hesitation, Coop reached in underhanded and scratched the animal under the chin. Slowly, he pulled his hand backward so the animal could follow the motion. He reached up and rubbed its head.

  “I haven’t made a friend, not a real friend, in nearly twenty years,” he told the Carvide, who tilted its head to listen the same way Storm did. He laughed softly at the image. “In less than a week I’ve doubled my friend count, if I include you.”

  The Carvide chuffed, then returned to comfort the female. Cooper did not know if his friendship had been accepted, or rejected. Guess he would find out if the over-sized wolf from another world tried to eat him the first chance it got.

  After the LBJ settled, and Captain Cooper’s feet hit the deck of the 109, the ship’s PA announced, “Kennedy is aboard.”

  Yes, he was.

  Chapter 50

  The officer stood at attention before a formal, beautifully carved wood and slate desk. The person seated behind the desk was not military, but he was his superior. He was everyone’s superior.

  “I understand the wormhole creation engine worked,” the one seated said.

  “Partially,” the officer said. “Data recovered indicates they were able to escape by creating a wormhole, but the dark matter released to maintain the channel walls killed everyone on board. Over 60,000 Zenge, and over one-thousand of our own.”

  “The Zenge are replaceable. It is a shame about our people, but they died for the cause,” the seated one said. “At least we were able to get our ship, and the data.”

  “Yessir,” the officer replied, maintaining eye contact with the painting above his seated superior. “We are having the bodies removed, and making certain dark matter radiation is cleared from the ship.”

  “I wonder why the captain came here instead of Osperantue, where he launched from, or even to the Zenge system?”

  “The recovered data indicates the computer system that guides the wormhole engine selected a path of least resistance,” the officer answered. “Between where they were, and here are no intervening systems or dangerous gravity wells. It was the quickest route to a safe haven.”

  “A remarkable accomplishment, even though, otherwise, their mission was a complete disaster. You don’t need to remain at attention, General,” the man said. “I’m not angry with you.”

  “Sir,” the general said, and relaxed his posture, but only a little. “We do have the scans, and reports regarding the chase to capture the Osperantue cruise ship, as well as the information on the solar system where the battle occurred. It’s a system no one has visited, or at least reported a visit, in over two-hundred years. They appear to have made a great deal of progress in a relatively short amount of time.”

  “Three ships from this system destroyed six of our battle wagons, two battlecruisers, and forced a Class One Carrier to retreat, and two-hundred years ago they did not have intersystem travel. I find that remarkable,” the man said.

  “They also appear to use space-fold technology for propulsion,” the general added.

  “We now have a much more dangerous enemy to deal with,” the man behind the desk said. “We will need to augment our forces, and improve out own technology if we are going to face this unexpected threat.

  “General, I want you to double the efforts on Fell to find, and take their hidden technology centers. Complete the mission plan for our upcoming invasion. It is more vital to our success than ever before. Begin making plans to confront this neoteric enemy. We know where they are, and we know a lot about what they have. Speed up the refitting of captured space ships with armaments. We may need the additional numbers.

  “I will contact the Zenge system, and make sure we have more soldiers, and more of them are capable of staffing the captured ships.”

  The leader stood to face his military advisor. “I want space-fold,” he said. “With such ability, we will halve the time until our ultimate victory. Please go now, General, and send in the gentleman waiting outside, if you will.”

  The general was quick to leave. The civilian nearly as quick to enter.

  “We can send drones through wormholes,” he stammered, not waiting on his leader to ask questions. “With the innovative gas conductors, we can build a torpedo-sized drone with enough negative-matter displacement that we, that you can send and receive communications through a wormhole in twenty-five-percent of the time it would take a ship to travel the same channel.”

  “When?”

  “The data we recovered from the Class One Carrier that created a wormhole provided the information needed to complete the design. Now we need space-saving crystals powerful enough to provide the power to create the negative matter, and also propel the drone.”

  “We should have everything we need soon, Doctor. Everything we need . . . soon,” the man replied.

  THE END

  EPILOGUE

  Captain Cooper sat in Fleet Admiral Patterson’s office at Central Command, Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

  The SFPT-109, and the Star Gazer completed the return trip without issues. Three months later, conditions settled enough to begin the process of dealing with short-term concerns, and long-term plans.

  Settled did not mean back to normal. Earth had a new normal, along with a quarter-million potential new citizens, currently being introduced to the planet in New Zealand. The island nation’s population had been decimated by the pandemic, and thirty years later, only a fraction of the original inhabitants remained. The Kiwi welcomed the newly arrived neighbors with open arms and, more importantly, open hearts. They also recognized the bounty being sent their way. Building the infrastructure necessary to sustain the alien refugees would generate a huge windfall. Paid for by the United Earth Council.

  Alien livestock were being studied by experts at Clemson University in South Carolina, trying to determine their value, and potential problems if introduced in the world. Wild animals from a half-dozen alien worlds were being kept in a preserve in Kenya. Again, being studied and kept safe.

  The Carvide had been released into a 25,000 acre reserve in the Australian outback where feral sheep, cattle, and other native animals had grown to unhealthy numbers. The Aussie population had been reduced to where they could not maintain the ranches which now made up the electronically controlled space. They were monitored twenty-four seven. Coop’s personal computer received those readings and video when available. The Carvide seemed happy and healthy.

  Sky and Storm flew through the vetting process aliens endured before allowed open, though monitored, access to the planet. Dr. Trent’s assertions they were bringing with them communications and operational technology which would advance human systems by hundreds of years helped a great deal.

  Coop tried to introduce Sky and Storm to his favorite places on the planet. Coop’s fame, both from his years as the face of space exploration, plus the entire planet having now seen the video of the fantastic battle to save the Star Gazer, rescue the refugees, and save the captives aboard the cargo ship, coupled with Sky and Storm’s striking looks, unique coloring, and arresting eyes, turned an evening out in Quebec into a near riot.

  To prevent further commotions, he used their status to get private late-night tours of museums, art galleries, and exhibit halls. They were being discreetly placed in private boxes for shows and concerts. He used credits deposited over the last thirty years to rent a private island in the Bahamas for a week, where he introduced them to snorkeling.

  He kept his promise to Rosz and Chaspi, taking them to a rock and roll concert in Arizona, a few days after they and their families were cleared to locate to New Zealand. They wore street-wise clothes, hoodies, and shades, and fit in with the crowd.

  Space Fleet had been active since the return of the PT-109. Its sister ship, PT-99, the Franklin Delano Roosevelt, was due to launch in two months; earlier than originally planned. The ship’s AI and avatar were in communication
with Kennedy and Genna. Genna and Adele (the FDR’s avatar) becoming friends. They visited the rental house in the Bahamas.

  “We still haven’t made a final decision on a Captain,” Patterson told him. “Captain Black requested a transfer back to the Navy. Her actions in space will make sure she is precluded from future command. Funny, you did not bring charges for dereliction of duty while engaged with an enemy. Equally funny, she did not try to bring charges against Genna, for assaulting a senior officer.” She gave Cooper time to reply. He did not. The private time he had with Black, during the return trip to MSD, had been kept private. They both honored their agreements.

  “When the FDR is ready, the 109 needs to investigate what is happening with the Zenge,” Cooper said. “We can’t wait, and we certainly can’t hope they will not return.”

  “One lone Earth ship against who knows how many enemy ships? The Council will not see that as a positive move.”

  “We have to convince them it’s our best action. I’ve spoken with the alien captives on the cargo ship. Between what they told me, and what we have from the people of Osperantue, and Fell, there are worlds out there who would welcome our presence. We have dozens of potential allies. We have a common enemy. I’m not talking about taking on the Zenge, Admiral. I’m talking about good, old-fashion military reconnaissance. Find out where they are, what they are planning, and who out there will help us when the time comes to fight.

  “You read Anton’s after-action report. He and I agree we are dealing with fanatics. The Zenge committed suicide on the first cargo ship instead of allowing themselves taken as prisoners. The second cargo ship was mass suicide and homicide. They martyred themselves, and took the captives with them.

  “When we were fighting to unite the planet, Anton, and I faced both religious and political zealots. We cannot let them take the initiative. Track, trap, and destroy are the requirements when fighting extremists . Then you find out what made them obsessive, and go after the causes. But first you eliminate the threat. They’ve been here, Pam. They will return.”

  “It still isn’t an easy sell, Coop, but I agree with your assessment.”

  “Then add this to the mix. There were eight Lisza Kaugh from a planet called Rys in those cells. They believe the Zenge are making their way toward Rys. Admiral, mines on Rys produce crystals which power everything from miniature devices to generators. I think the planet is the original source of the crystals found on Mars.”

  Coop allowed his assumption to settle before continuing. “If we get there first, we can collect more crystals. We would have the capacity to build more space-worthy ships. If the Zenge get there before us, they may have enough information to use crystals to create their own space-fold arrays.”

  Patterson’s background was military intelligence. She recognized the importance of reaching Rys before the Zenge. “Put together a crew list, and write up a mission statement,” she told Cooper. “While we wait on the 99 to launch, you train your crew. I will try to convince the Council.”

  Cooper reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. He handed the Fleet Admiral a folded sheet of paper.Old style.

  “My crew list,” he said.

  Patterson gave it a glance, and looked across to her number one Captain, and friend. “Quite a mix of characters,” she said. “Coop, I know you don’t care about politics. All of us hoped those types of intrigue gone with the pandemic. But humans are still humans. There is a movement to keep Earth isolated until we are better equipped to deal with aliens. That same movement has members of the military, and in the UEC who think Space Fleet needs to act more professional . . . more structured.”

  “More like a branch of the military,” Coop said, having heard the same reports. “And aliens don’t belong on Earth’s space ships,” Coop added, having heard those rumors, as well. “Politics and policies will not stop the Zenge if they decide to launch an invasion. We need the expertise of these aliens, and we need allies in the galaxy if we’re going to survive. Earth is a target, now the Zenge know we’re here. The first step in Earth’s defense should be getting to Rys, and replenishing our store of crystals.”

  “If this mission is approved, I see one interesting trip in your future,” Patterson said.

  “It’s not the destination,” Coop replied, quoting an old adage, “it’s the journey that makes life interesting.”

  The End of the Beginning. (3/17/16)

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  CONFRONTATION

  Aliens and Humans - Allies and Enemies

  Book Two in the Space Fleet Sagas

  SFPT-109, John F. Kennedy

  DON FOXE

  

  Copyright © 2017 don foxe

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Stock images are used for illustrative purposes only. Pixabay.com.

  ISBN: 978-0-9988044-0-8

  ISBN: 978-0-9988044-1-5 (e)

  Book One was dedicated to my wife, Sarah.

  Book Two is in memory of Zeke.

  He kept me company through the

  imagining, writing, editing and birth of the first three books, as well as countless character summaries,

  short stories, and growth as a writer.

  He passed away Christmas morning, 2016.

  He remains my star.

  Acknowledgments

  Huge thanks to Nancy Thurmond for editing. Any mistakes I own, for she tried to make me fix them all, and I occasionally preferred the grittier sound of poor grammar.

  Author’s back cover photograph courtesy of Abri Kruger Photography, South Africa.

  Reader’s Notes

  Because of reader requests, the website (donfoxe.net) provides a list of characters, ships, worlds, aliens, abbreviations, nicknames and pronunciation guides.

  I appreciate every LIKE, SHARE, and FOLLOW:

  PART ONE

  CONFIRMATION

  CHAPTER 1

  Their situation was bad, quickly growing worse, when the ship’s avatar announced, “Kennedy is unable to maintain tactical updates. The Zenge virus has penetrated the primary firewall. The AI is fully engaged preventing access to the ship’s operating systems.”

  “Navigation, where are they,” Paré called. When the hack-attack sidelined Kennedy, the pilot’s holo-display winked out. It flickered once, then disappeared.

  “First Primary at one-fifty degrees port by plus forty-three degrees. Distance is twenty-six thousand K. Closing at 40,000mph.” Lt.JG Adams called target coordinates, range, and speed from the navigation console. When his holo-display fizzled, he immediately booted the console’s back-up display monitor. “Second Primary following number one at one-sixty-three port, plus forty-three. Distance forty-one thousand K, and 40,000mph.”

  Adams swiped his hand across the screen. The data pitch, relayed to the pilot’s console, arrived as icons. Paré’s screen displayed two Zenge Primary ships, left and above the PT-109’s icon.

  “Brace for impact,” Col. Kebede announced. “Pulse impact from battlecruiser in three.”

  The pulse, fired at close range, caught the 109 under the stern keel, pushing the ship tail up, and nose down. The sonic force field held against the assault, preventing structural
damage. Paré compensated, returning the craft to posture.

  “Where the hell is the battlecruiser?” she asked.

  “Three-hundred, minus sixty. Ten-thousand kilometers out, and closing at 100,000mph.” The navigator passed the image to the pilot. “On us in seconds.”

  “Battlecruiser firing a second pulse,” Kebede said. The Ethiopian’s dark skin glistened as a fine sweat rose. Her voice remained calm.

  Paré dropped the ship twenty degrees, firing thrusters located above the center line at one-hundred percent. The pulse blast crossed over the 109’s superstructure. “Fuck this,” she grumbled.

  The vessel rotated nose-up, bringing guns to bear on the passing Zenge battlecruiser.

  “Nice,” Kebede said. “Rod away.” The rail-gun deployed beneath the 109’s forward hull launched a solid projectile. “Nymph away.” She fired a non-nuclear electromagnetic pulse shell (NNEMP), or nymph. The faster nymph round outstripped the rod, both streaking toward the Zenge warship.

  “EMP hit. Shields dampened. Rod impact. Penetration is affirmative. Cruiser is damaged.” The Op-Tac commander adjusted her aim, as the pilot repositioned to follow the course of the damaged enemy ship.

  “Rod Away. Nymph Away.”

  Before Kebede could report results, Storm called aloud from the Communications console. “MSD taking fire from the first Primary. Force field holding, but energy cells at eighty-percent, and dropping. MSD is requesting assistance.”