A Target-Rich Environment
“Sir?” Kris’s voice came over her fighter's burst link, making Huron grin. She was always polite at the start of a mission. Pretty soon it’d be just “Huron” and when things really started to heat up, she tended to slip into less complimentary forms of address.
“Whatcha got, Ensign?”
“Is this your idea of a fair fight?”
“What?” His tone was cheerfully innocent.
“I count about forty of the bastards down there.”
“More like fifty-odd, I think.”
“Oh great. You did notice it’s just us out here, right?”
“No one else to get in our way then.”
Kris muttered something he couldn’t make out over the link.
“C’mon, Kris. I thought you were hungry.”
“Starving. Just wanna make sure you weren’t completely AWOL here.”
“Alright then.” He set his T-Synth to designate a flight that was trailing the main formation. “See those three guys at the back? Crappy formation discipline. Let’s show ‘em the error of their ways. Then we can go raid the buffet.”
“Roger that!” He could hear the delighted grin in her voice.
“First kill leads? Guns only.”
“You’re on!”
ASYLUM
Loralynn Kennakris #3
Jordan Leah Hunter
&
Owen R. O’Neill
THE LORALYNN KENNAKRIS SERIES:
The Alecto Initiative (Loralynn Kennakris #1)
The Morning Which Breaks (Loralynn Kennakris #2)
UPCOMING
Absalom’s Hundred (A new Loralynn Kennakris adventure)
Apollyon's Gambit (Loralynn Kennakris #4)
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For full-color, high-resolution maps pertaining to this series, see: www.loralynnkennakris.com/extras/
(A link to maps pertaining specifically to this book may be found in the Authors’ Notes.)
Also by
Jordan Leah Hunter
The Erl King’s Children
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and organizations either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for you, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.
Copyright © 2015 Owen R. O’Neill and Jordan Leah Hunter
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by Pleiades Web Press.
Photography by the Authors.
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IN DEDICATION
To all brave women and men who ever left hearth & home, family & friends, to take the weight, pay the freight, and answer the call. Especially those who did not return.
To absent friends. We shall never forget.
Owen R. O’Neill & Jordan Leah Hunter, February 2015
Acknowledgements
As we travel this uncertain road on which we have embarked, our horizons expand and things get more interesting. Frequently we encounter forks where we must choose between the well-trodden path and the road less taken, and just as frequently we encounter rocks and pitfalls, roadblocks and critters rustling in the underbrush.
Without the help of many people, we could never negotiate this path we have chosen, and we offer heartfelt gratitude to all of you who guided us and helped to light our path. Some of these luminous beings deserve special mention for their unstinting efforts on our behalf: Alex, Cynthia, Coyora, Johanna and Ramona, Nick, Mark, Scott, Stephen, and Yoly.
That, alas, does not mean we have always listened when we ought, and that we have not, at times, strayed where we shouldn’t and found ourselves hip-deep in a morass as a result. So whatever merit this work has must, in large part, be credited to them. The mud that remains on the floor is our fault.
Table of Contents
Wogan’s Reef
Prologue: Zero Day
Janin Station; Tau Verde, Vulpecula Region
PART I: A LULL IN THE TEMPEST
Chapter One: The Echoes of Battle
Z-Day minus 42
LSS Trafalgar, deployed; Mirandan space, Cygnus Sector
Z-Day minus 41
LSS Trafalgar en route to Epona, Cygnus Sector
Z-Day minus 39
LSS Trafalgar, on-orbit; Epona
Z-Day minus 33
LSS Trafalgar, on-orbit; Epona
Chapter Two: The Marines
Z-Day minus 32 (AM)
Port Lux, Saarland District; Tenebris, Cygnus Region
Z-Day minus 32 (PM)
Port Lux, Saarland District; Tenebris
Z-Day minus 29
Phase Plane Indigo; November-Ocean Quadrant, Cygnus Region
Chapter Three: The Commanders
Z-Day minus 28
IHS Marshall Nedelin, docked; Janin Station, Tau Verde, Vulpecula Region
Z-Day minus 28
LSS Aquitaine, docked; Rigel Kent, Terran Space
Z-Day minus 24
IHS Marshall Nedelin, docked; Janin Station
Chapter Four: By The Fates Assembled
Z-Day minus 24
Northern California Territory; Western Federal District, Terra, Sol
Z-Day minus 21
LSS Trafalgar, docked; Outbound Station, Gamma Hydras
Z-Day minus 17
LSS Bellerophon, docked; Outbound Station
Z-Day minus 14
Crystal City, Outer N-Ring; Gamma Hydras
Chapter Five: The Gathering Storm
Z-Day minus 13
LSS Ardennes, docked; Outbound Station
Z-Day minus 12
LSS Trafalgar, deployed; Gamma Hydras
Z-Day minus 7
Outbound Station; Gamma Hydras
Z-Day minus 3
LSS Trafalgar, docked; Outbound Station
Zero Day
IHS Marshall Nedelin, docked; Janin Station
PART II: THE SHATTERED SWORD
Chapter One: Opening Gambits
Z-Day +2 (AM)
LSS Ardennes, Point Moira; near Wogan’s Reef
Z-Day +2 (PM)
LSS Effingham, on blockade; Callindra 69, Hydra Region
Z-Day +3 (PM)
LSS Ardennes, Point Moira
Z-Day +4 (Early AM)
LSS Athena Nike, Outbound Station
Chapter Two: The Die is Cast
Z-Day +4 (PM)
LSS Trafalgar, Outbound Station
Z-Day +5 (AM)
Recon Flight Rogue Viper, on patrol; Phase Plane Victor
Z-Day +5 (PM)
LSS Trafalgar, Outbound Station
Z-Day +6 (AM)
Deep space, Hydra Border Zone
Chapter Three: First Blood
Z-Day +7 (0500)
LSS Ardennes, deployed center; Wogan’s Reef
Z-Day +7 (0517)
LSS Tra
falgar, forward deployed; Gamma Hydras
Z-Day +7 (0623)
LSS Ardennes, deployed center; Wogan’s Reef
Z-Day +7 (0713)
LSS Fury, on-station, far left flank; Wogan’s Reef
Z-Day +7 (0717)
LSS Bellerophon, deployed center; Wogan’s Reef
Chapter Four: The Hour of Reckoning
Z-Day +7 (0821)
LSS Trafalgar, forward deployed; Gamma Hydras
Z-Day +7 (0827)
LSS Bellerophon, deployed center; Wogan’s Reef
Z-Day +7 (0842)
Recon Flight Viper Echo; Phase Plane Indigo, Gamma Hydras
Z-Day +7 (0845)
LSS Ardennes, engaged center; Wogan’s Reef
Chapter Five: “The Only Thing Sadder. . .”
Z-Day +7 (0911)
LSS Trafalgar, forward deployed; Gamma Hydras
Z-Day +7 (Early PM)
LHC Flechette; Wogan’s Reef
Z-Day +7 (Late PM)
LSS Ardennes, at grav anchor; Wogan’s Reef
Z-Day +7 (Late PM)
IHS Vardar en route to Tau Verde
Z-Day +7 (Later PM)
LSS Ardennes, at grav anchor; Wogan’s Reef
Epilogue
LSS Trafalgar, docked; Outbound Station
Asylum
The Beginning of the End
LSS Trafalgar, on orbit; Epona, Cygnus Sector
Chapter One
Mather’s Landing; Epona
Chapter Two
Mather’s Landing; Epona
Chapter Three
LSS Trafalgar, on orbit; Epona
Chapter Four
Recon Flight Viper Tango, in transit; Asylum, Cygnus Sector
Chapter Five
36 hours later . . . on board IHS Ilya Turabian, orbiting Asylum Station
Chapter Six
IHS Ilya Turabian
Chapter Seven
IHS Ilya Turabian
Chapter Eight
IHS Ilya Turabian
Chapter Nine
IHS Ilya Turabian
The End of the Beginning
Verdun Military Hospital; Weyland Station, Vesta, Eltanin Sector
Free Excerpt: Absalom’s Hundred
A new Loralynn Kennakris adventure, coming soon
Prologue:
A Conference of the Powers
Chapter One: Shadow Trackers
Remember Arroyo!
In the Lair of the Monkey God
The Summoners I
The Summoners II
The Freebooters
Chapter Two: In Dante’s Footsteps
Crossing the Acheron
Perdition Alley
Authors’ Notes
About the Authors
Wogan’s Reef
For Thy Sake—
For the sake of thee
I stood my ground
For the sake of thee
I bore the sound
Of bullets as they whistled past
And each one sang: All flesh is grass.
Ere long came one that laid me low
And falling as I felt the blow
For thy sake, watched my red blood flow
And lying still—that’s all I know.
I had not lived ten thousand days
I might have died a hundred ways
But for thee I chose this price to pay—Go
And bring to me that sacred fire
Set thy torch to my funeral pyre
And even as I burn for thee—Know
Thou hast not seen the last of me.
From ‘The Half-Ballade of Anandale’
— of unknown authorship (originated in the CEF Marine Corps)
Prologue: Zero Day
Janin Station;
Tau Verde, Vulpecula Region
It was make-and-mend day for the Halith Imperial Navy’s Kerberos Fleet, riding peacefully at grav anchor within the vast embrace of Janin Station. Officially, it was a day of rest when the usual chores like ship drills, weapons exercises, sensor sweeps, and watchstanding were suspended, but in reality it was the busiest and least welcome of the eight days of the naval week that ruled the lives of Halith mariners—especially when the fleet was lying up at a comfortable port like Janin.
Watchstanding and sensor sweeps were little more than formalities for a fleet at Janin: not only was it the second-largest free structure ever built by man—only the astounding bulk of Kazanian Station, orbiting the prime world of Halith Evandor itself, surpassed it—but it was also the most heavily fortified place in existence. The station itself was unarmed (its real estate being too precious to waste on weapons), but the star system in which it resided was, in fact, one vast fortress. Hundreds of picket vessels ceaselessly patrolled the outer approaches to the system, while a combination of light-speed and gravitic sensors that could detect incoming starships over a full day out provided warning. The inner system was protected by a multilayered network of hunter-killer satellites, and finally the station itself and its supporting moon base were guarded by a ring of monitors.
These enormous ships, looking like nothing so much as the giant testudines who still roamed the sanctuaries of Earth, were so large that no hypercapable classes had been produced since the Formation Wars and so expensive that Halith had only ever built sixteen of them. Five of these were deployed to Janin Station. Within their high-domed hulls were thousands of missiles and the best EW and C4ISR suites Halith could produce, but it was the five massive turrets that contained their main armament: triplets of long 24-inch railguns that fired two-ton projectiles at near-relativistic speeds, more than twice the mass and many times the energy of the rounds fired by the 16-inch railguns that dreadnoughts and the largest battleships carried.
So, at ease behind all these defenses, the mariners of the Kerberos fleet could be forgiven if they wanted to slack off a little, above all when the enticements of Qeshan Moon Base were a mere hour away and, for those who could get leave and afford it, the much greater charms of Tau Verde only an evening’s shuttle ride below. With such temptations ever-present, it was entirely expected that they had come to detest make-and-mend day as never before—the day they had to muster by divisions for inspection, with all the cleaning and scouring, primping and polishing that entailed.
This particular day the crews looked upon with special trepidation because it happened to fall right after the celebration of Nefastio, the year-end holiday on which official work was banned and a great deal of license was tolerated, and as a result, most of them were badly hungover. But what really mattered was the state of their officers, many of whom might be in even worse shape than they were.
By an unexplained coincidence, the pocket dreadnought Ilya Turabian—the Grand Admiral’s Yacht, as she was satirically known—had come in five days ago and been given pride of place at the anchorage, forcing Kerberos Fleet’s flagship to an outlying berth (a slight the mariners of the fleet did not take calmly, and it was well that the crew of the pocket dreadnought were not allowed shore leave). The purpose of her visit had been kept confidential, but an important banquet was held on the day before Nefastio itself, attended by all the captains of the fleet, their senior officers and staffs, and two days of almost unrelenting debauchery would sorely test those who did not have iron constitutions or a rare degree of self-control.
So as the bosuns roused out their frowsty and crapulous crews at 0600 to begin the long process of making themselves and their ships presentable again (for one thing, the heads were a horror few could face), there was much murmured commentary and many a discreet weather eye trained on officers’ country to see when they would start to appear and what their aspect would be. The later it was, they figured, the better their chances.
The port was already crowded with small craft at this early hour, almost all of them bumboats that were conveying the mariners’ pleasurable company of the night before back to Qeshan’s many brothels. The bosuns had bundled these beauties out early, in mo
st cases even before the crews were awake, because centuries of experience showed that mariners were most easily detached from their harlots while both parties were unconscious. Thus, by 0400, a good two hours before reveille, the bosuns’ mates, assisted by the sergeant-at-arms, were herding long lines of blinking, yawning, muttering whores, indifferently dressed if dressed at all, into the waiting boats where orderlies scanned their venereals, rechecked their licenses, updated their health records and endorsed their pay chits as they embarked.
The officer’s companions presented a much different case. Not only did they include wives and sweethearts, but none came from the low port houses, many were professionals of distinction, and the more exalted they were, the longer they stayed aboard. And the mariners knew that nothing was guaranteed to put a hungover officer in a good frame of mind better than a couple of extra hours’ sack time with one of these delightful artisans.
But it was the fleet’s commanding officer who set the tone on these occasions, and Admiral Jakob Adenauer was well known as an abstemious man devoted to his wife. He was no kind of tyrant, but the same could not be said for all of his subordinates. The possibility that he would appear and, worse yet, deliver some sort of address at his normal hour of 0800 thus preyed on many a fretful mind.
That such an address was due was confidently predicted by most. The banquet of two nights ago was proof of that. Fleet commanders did not hold such events for their entertainment value, and doing so immediately before such an important holiday meant something big was at the event horizon, perhaps something unprecedented. It could only mean a new deployment, and while the crews readied themselves for a light breakfast (sutlëchĵ, made of golden rice boiled in malt beer and liberally spiked with detoxicants), this topic occupied them almost as much as the likely state of their officers, for it conceivably offered as much potential for concern as excitement.
Concern because an astute professional eye that could have encompassed the entire scene that AM would have noticed that although the Kerberos Fleet embodied an enormous accumulation of naval firepower, which presented a stirring sight in port, it was not a fleet in prime condition—far from it.
Asylum (Loralynn Kennakris Book 3) Page 1