by Jay Allan
“It’s risky,” Henry replied after a moment’s pause. “But I don’t see that we have any other choices. I just hope everyone’s families are still alive.”
“Get your bombers ready,” Kurt ordered decisively. “We make the jump in twenty minutes.”
Lieutenant Brooks stepped over and handed Kurt a list of cities hit by nukes. He noticed with relief Houston wasn’t included. However, Chicago, Washington, Paris, Cairo, Moscow, and numerous other cities scattered around the world were. He felt his heart grow cold as he looked over the list. If this was correct, there could be well over forty million casualties from the orbital attack.
“It’s not too late to turn back,” Captain Randson reminded Kurt in a quiet voice. “We could return to the Newton colony, load everyone up, and head out for parts unknown. We could find a new world to start over on.”
“I thought of that,” replied Kurt, somberly. “But what do I tell all of our crews? Most of them have family on Earth or one of the outposts here in the Solar System. I think we'd have a mutiny on our hands if we didn’t at least try to find out what happened. For all we know there could be a lot of survivors depending on us to drive these aliens off. It would also take us too many trips to move everyone off Newton. We don’t know of any other inhabitable planet we can go to.”
“You’re right,” Randson conceded with a sigh, his shoulders drooping. “Let’s just hope this is a battle we can win.” He was also relieved that they were going in. He didn’t want to leave his family stranded on Earth.
-
The tension and anxiety in the Command Center had increased considerably as the time for the attack neared. All the ships in the fleet were at Condition One with their crews at battlestations. This would be the first time any members of Admiral Vicker’s fleet had actually gone into combat.
“Ready to jump,” Captain Randson reported as he listened to the readiness reports from various ships over their short-range coms. His eyes focused on the admiral, who was still studying the large tactical screen on the front wall of the Command Center.
Kurt nodded. There was no point in waiting. “All ships initiate jump in sixty seconds,” he ordered. “They are to fire upon targets as soon as they exit hyperspace and don’t need to wait for orders from the flag.”
“Message sent,” responded Captain Randson as he activated a counter on his console. “Helm; prepare for hyperspace insertion.”
Randson buckled himself into his chair in preparation for combat maneuvers. He knew the hyperspace jump would only last a few seconds. He wondered what they would find when they reached Earth.
“Tactical, ready the main particle beam cannon,” ordered Kurt, seeing the increased activity in the command crew as they prepared for combat. “Lock on the enemy’s nearest capital ship and fire as soon as you have a confirmed firing solution.” The cannon could only be fired once every forty seconds due to heat buildup, so they needed to make every shot count.
“Jump!” ordered Captain Randson his hands gripping the armrests on his command chair.
-
High Profiteer Creed stood in the Control Room of the pirate ship Ascendant Destruction. He was bipedal and slightly taller than a human. His skin was a light blue color with coarse white hair on his head. His face, while humanoid, had larger than normal eyes. The last few days had been quiet as he waited for the return of the rest of his ships. They were escorting a large fleet of ships to carry detainees as well as heavy cargo ships.
“We’ll make huge profits from this planet,” gloated Second Profiteer Lantz as he gazed at the main viewscreen on the front wall of the Control Room and the blue-white planet beneath them. “Their people will sell well in the slave markets on Kubitz.”
“Their world is rich in many things that will bring us great profits on the black markets,” added Creed, recalling his last trip to the bustling black market world of Kubitz as he folded his powerful arms across his chest.
Hundreds of alien races could be found on Kubitz either selling or buying, some of it openly and some done in the back rooms of the pleasure palaces. It was also a very dangerous place for someone unfamiliar with the workings of the black market system. People were known to vanish quite routinely and the local authorities always seemed to look the other way.
“We were fortunate to find this world in these backwater systems,” Lantz spoke as he thought greedily about the five percent profits he would receive as his share. “There have been few ships which have ventured out into these areas where the stars are so far apart.”
“We can thank the Kreel for that,” Creed said. “Several of their cargo ships have reported unknown ships appearing on their satellite marker buoys in a number of systems they have laid claim to. It wasn’t difficult for the computers on Marsten to correlate the data and extrapolate the most likely location of those ships’ home world.” It hadn’t been quite that simple. The computers had given them an area of space nearly thirty light years across, which had contained quite a few stars, even in this sparse region. It had taken the Profiteer Fleet two weeks to finally pin down the system they were seeking.
Lantz nodded in agreement. Marsten was the capital of the Gothan Empire, which was a loose Federation of one hundred and eighteen star systems that routinely raided many of the civilized races of the galaxy. It was a dangerous living, but the huge rewards from the bounty they collected more than offset the danger. Lantz was already thinking about how he would spend some of his share in the pleasure houses upon Kubitz. Any type of pleasure one desired could be bought for the right price.
“It is good we found this system when we did,” Lantz spoke with a nod of his head. “They had a sizable fleet and in a few more years would have been too powerful to overwhelm without major losses. Even now, they are hesitant about obeying our demands, despite us having destroyed their cities. More examples might need to be made.”
Before Creed could reply, warning klaxons began sounding and red lights started flashing in the Control Room. His eyes instantly went to the sensor operator.
“We have ships exiting hyperspace,” reported Third Profiteer Bixt as red threat icons began appearing on the sensor screen in front of him. Then, after a moment, he looked at First Profiteer Creed with astonishment on his face. “They’re human!”
-
Admiral Vickers felt the familiar gut wrenching feeling as the Star Cross dropped out of hyperspace within close proximity to its intended target. The tactical screen quickly updated, showing the alien ships in orbit around Earth.
“Target lock!” yelled Lieutenant Evelyn Mays as green lights flashed on her console. “Firing particle beam cannon.” She reached forward and pressed several buttons in front of her, activating the deadly weapon. Beside her, two ensigns were targeting the ships’ KEW batteries and preparing to fire the ships’ missiles.
From the Star Cross, a deep blue beam flashed across space smashing into the enemy battlecruiser they'd targeted. The cruiser was still in the process of raising its defensive energy screen, which failed to stop the beam. A massive explosion tore into the cruiser, leaving a gaping hole forty feet across in its hull and blasting a huge fragment off into space. The ship seemed to stagger as valuable systems inside were compromised and went down. Several secondary explosions rattled the ship, sending waves of fire through shattered compartments and corridors. Frightened crewmembers slammed bulkheads shut, trying to stop the growing destruction.
From the bow of the Star Cross, the two KEW cannons fired, sending a pair of two thousand pound rounds toward the reeling enemy cruiser at ten percent the speed of light. They impacted the alien ship, tearing completely through it and setting off secondary explosions. The energy generated was like twin nuclear explosions going off. With a brilliant flash the battlecruiser exploded, sending debris in all directions.
“Enemy battlecruiser is down!” Lieutenant Brooks reported excitedly as the red threat icon swelled on the sensor screen and then vanished.
“We caught the
m before they could raise their shields,” spoke Captain Randson, jubilantly. “We’ve got them in the same position they caught our fleet in when they attacked Earth.”
“Switch to secondary target,” Kurt ordered as he intently watched the tactical screen, seeing what success his other ships were having.
“The enemy battlecruiser the Hampton was targeting is down,” reported Brooks elatedly as she saw another red icon vanished from her screen.”
“Vindication is jumping in!” added Captain Randson as he saw more green icons beginning to appear on the tactical screen.
-
First Profiteer Creed picked himself up from the deck, looking around the Control Center in anger. “What’s happening?” he demanded as his eyes shifted to the ship’s tactical screen. He could see numerous red threat icons appearing close to his ships. Too close!
“It’s a human fleet and they’re attacking,” reported Second Profiteer Lantz, breathlessly. “We’ve already lost the Warriors Pride and the Addax. The enemy is using a powerful particle beam against us as well as kinetics.”
“Particle beams and kinetics!” roared Creed in disbelief his eyes growing wide.
He knew that for most warships particle beams were impractical as they required a tremendous amount of energy and needed a long cool down time between firings. Most Gothan ships were armed with ion cannons and missiles, which were cheap and efficient. Kinetics were a thing of the past and had been given up to be replaced by more modern weapons.
“One of the new arrivals is a carrier of some kind,” Third Profiteer Bixt warned, feeling worried. “It’s launching smaller warships toward us.”
“We’ve lost four of our escorts,” spoke Lantz, seeing the ships drop off the tactical screen. He groaned, seeing his profits from this venture rapidly dissipating. His fantasies of the pleasure houses were rapidly fading. “All of our ships have their shields up and are returning fire, but I fear we’ve already lost too much. The Glimmer Fire is reporting heavy damage and they’re asking to withdraw.” The Glimmer Fire was their only other remaining battlecruiser.
Creed looked at the viewscreen showing numerous explosions in space. He could even see the path of a few beam weapons. “Order all ships to jump!” he grated out, knowing he had no other choice but to withdraw or be destroyed.
They were in this for profit, not to lose expensive ships. He would return to Marsten and come back with a much more powerful fleet. This planet was too rich to allow a single human fleet to keep them from it. The humans could have the planet back for now, but he would return with a far larger force and take it back. He would also have to contact the detainee and cargo ships and have them return to the Marsten system.
-
“Destroyer Brant is down,” Lieutenant Brooks reported grimly as the friendly green icon representing the small destroyer vanished from the screen.
“We’ve taken out two of their light units,” Captain Randson added as two more red icons fell off the tactical screen. He began to breathe a little easier. At this rate, they would win the battle and then as soon as possible, he intended to take a shuttle down to Houston and evacuate his family. He knew others would be doing the same thing.
“Enemy ships are showing an energy spike,” Lieutenant Brooks informed them as one of her sensors indicated a rapid buildup of energy emissions from the alien ships. “They’re activating their hyperdrives.”
Kurt switched his gaze to one of the large viewscreens just in time to see one of the two remaining enemy battlecruisers jump away. On the tactical screen, other red threat icons were also vanishing.
“Their last heavy is too damaged to jump,” Brooks reported as the enemy ship turned toward them with its weapons firing. “They’re attacking!”
Kurt felt the Star Cross shudder slightly as an energy beam struck the ship’s energy screen.
“We’re being hit by some type of ion beam,” Lieutenant Brooks reported as she looked at the data on one of her sensor screens.
“The shield is holding at eighty-four percent,” Captain Randson said as he quickly checked the status of the ship’s energy shield.
“Particle beam is recharged,” Lieutenant Mays spoke as she targeted the alien battlecruiser. “Firing!”
The deep blue particle beam smashed into the enemy ship, flashing right through its weakened defensive energy screen. A huge hole was blasted into its bow and the ship seemed to lose all power. Two KEW rounds from the Star Crosses bow cannons plowed into the Glimmer Fire, traveling nearly its entire length, and then the ship detonated in a blaze of light as too many vital systems were destroyed.
“All enemy ships have either jumped out or have been destroyed,” reported Lieutenant Brooks, breathing a sigh of relief. “We have control of Earth orbital space.”
Kurt nodded, allowing himself to relax. The battle had gone better than expected. “Get me Captain Watkins. I’m going to have the Vindication check out the shipyard; they may need their marines to secure it.” Kurt turned his attention back toward one of the viewscreens showing Earth.
“Now let’s see if we can contact someone down on the surface and find out just what in the hell is going on.”
-
The Star Cross
Coming in February 2015
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Website: http://raymondlweil.com/
THE INVISIBLE WAR
JASPER T. SCOTT
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THE INVISIBLE WAR
DARK SPACE: BOOK 2
JASPER T. SCOTT
Copyright © 2014 Jasper T. Scott
All Rights Reserved
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Prologue
The mountains formed a jagged white and gray line, illuminated against the horizon by the miners’ floodlights. Snow fell in driving sheets to pile on the shiny gray tarmac, where it quickly melted and ran into shallow pools that reflected stolen scraps of the midnight sky. Roka City’s air raid sirens wailed, reminding everyone that there wasn’t much time, but even so, crowds of screaming people were pressing against the sorry line of sentinels and mechs who guarded the simple wire fence behind Destra. She was waiting on the other side of the fence—the safe side—but now she cast a worried glance over her shoulder to the raging crowds, and squeezed Atton’s small hand a little tighter.
“Why are they so angry?” Atton asked, following her gaze to the fence.
Destra smiled down at her seven-year-old son, and he looked up at her with his bright green eyes—her husband, Ethan’s eyes. “Because they don’t get to go for a ride on the spaceship,” she said, and tousled his hair.
As they watched, the twin beams of a military hover transport’s headlights appeared in the distance, illuminating great swaths of the falling snow. Then a megaphone blared, sounding out even above the wailing sirens: “Disperse, and proceed in an orderly fashion to the nearest mine shuttle!”
Everyone should have evacuated to the mines already, but the smart ones knew that wouldn’t save them. It would only buy them time, and maybe not very much of it. The crowd turned to the approaching transport with a collective roar. They were not going to leave peacefully. Destra caught a glimpse of a little boy with blond hair clutching the fence and staring hopelessly at her. The boy’s mother saw Destra staring and pointed at her. “Hoi! Why’s she get to go?” the woman screamed.
Destra’s mouth quirked up in a bitter smile. That woman didn’t realize how wrong she was. Destra wasn’t going anywhere. The transport was already overfull. She turned away, sickened, and tugged on Atton’s hand for him to turn away, too.
Atton’s eyes were wide. He was squeezing her hand so tight it felt like an overripe piece of fruit in his grasp. She could feel the blood throbbing at the edges of his grip, trying to escape. It was going to be hard to pry him loose when the time came—and even harder to pry herself loose. Destra turned to study her son with a wan smil
e. He clutched Tibby, his favorite stuffed animal, to his chest. It was a diger, a furry white feline from the ice-covered oceans and the steaming, snow-dusted magma fields of Ossus. Atton loved that fuzzy caricature of a deadly predator.
Destra looked away. Something wet graced her cheek, but it wasn’t a snowflake—they were standing safely under the eaves of the spaceport control tower. Destra Ortane looked up, holding a hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the spaceport’s landing lights. She searched the swirling darkness for the telltale streak of light which would signify a ship entering Roka’s upper atmosphere. There were supposed to be a pair of seraphim-class corvettes coming to escort the last transport off Roka IV, but so far there was nothing. Either they were late, or . . .
Destra didn’t want to finish that thought. The battle was not going well. The Roka system was defended by more than a dozen capital-class vessels, but it was not nearly enough to repel an invasion which numbered over 100 strong.
The spaceport began roaring with the sound of the transport’s grav lifts, drawing Destra’s attention back to the ground. She turned to study the blocky freighter. Her eyes skipped over the scoured white paint and found the faded and peeling gold symbol of the Imperium—six stars surrounding a clenched fist. It was a symbol of strength and security, but in times like these, the peeling paint and faded colors of that emblem were far more symbolic. These were the Imperium’s last days. Roka IV would be one of the last worlds to fall, but fall it would, and Destra held no illusions about what would happen to her and everyone else who was left behind when it did. The Sythians took no hostages and they never left any survivors.
Destra chewed her lower lip, hoping against hope that the transport would survive. It was just a hastily-converted ore freighter. It had never been meant to fly into the middle of a war. Maybe the Sythians wouldn’t notice it amidst all the chaos. The transport contained all of the remaining evacuees from Roka City—more than six thousand corporate execs, government officials, and fleet officers. Just the important people, mind you. Grubs like her didn’t make the cut, but Atton . . . Atton was another matter. He was easy to miss, easy to smuggle in, and Destra was lucky—her uncle was Captain Riechland, XO aboard the mighty Valiant, flagship of the First Fleet, and he’d been on Roka when the invasion had begun. Now Captain Reichland was flying back to his command, back to the war. The supreme overlord had ordered an all-systems, fleet-wide strategic regrouping.