by Joe Vasicek
Heart of the Nebula
by Joe Vasicek
Copyright © 2015 Joseph Vasicek.
All rights reserved.
Editing by Josh Leavitt.
Cover art by Lorenz Hideyoshi Ruwwe.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, organizations, or events is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Part I: The Maverick
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
Part II: The Guardian
6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
Part III: The Leader
13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
Part IV: The Legend
20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25
Author’s Note | Acknowledgments
THEY LOST THE WAR, BUT THE PEACE IS STILL WITHIN THEIR GRASP.
Five years have passed since the Hameji conquered James McCoy's homeworld, all but enslaving his people. Now, the occupation threatens to destroy them.
Deep in the heart of the Good Hope nebula, there is a place where they can start over. But it will take a strong leader to get them there, and the temptation to trade freedom for security has never been greater. Even if they manage to escape from the Hameji, the greatest threat to their future may come from within.
James once gave everything to save the ones he loved. This time, his sacrifice could make him a legend.
Part I: The Maverick
Chapter 1
“Attention Lone Spear, this is Trident One,” came the commander’s gravelly voice over the gunboat’s speakers. “Divert from your present course and do not, repeat, do not engage the incoming craft.”
“The hell?” James McCoy muttered—under his breath, of course. He narrowed his eyes at the holoscreen and fought the urge to lash out at his commanding officer.
“Trident One, we have unidentified ships converging on the convoy. Repeat, we have unidentified ships converging on the convoy. Requesting permission to—”
“Negative, Lone Spear, negative. Resume escort formation and await further orders.”
James clenched his fists in frustration. Was the commander blind? Several unknown vessels had departed the Lagrange settlements of the nearest moon, moving dangerously close to the supply convoy that he was supposed to protect. On his main display, eight red dots moved steadily upward along a line that didn’t quite intersect the bundle of friendly green and blue vectors, but could easily be made to without warning.
Conditions in the local sector were ripe for an ambush. When the Hameji had invaded five standard years ago, they had slagged Karduna’s capital planet and massacred billions of people. Those who survived now lived in small, isolated settlements scattered across the system, barely able to defend themselves. Since the Hameji only cared for conquest and barely deigned to manage their empire, piracy was rampant. The convoy was on its own.
“Uh, Captain, sir?” came a shaky voice behind him: Ensign Sterling Jones, his new co-pilot. “Are we going to pull back?”
“Don’t worry, Sterling. I heard the commander.” James pulled back on the piloting stick, making his stomach drop as the gunboat changed course. On the screen, the green vector that marked their present course bent slightly upward, not quite conforming to the other vector lines of the convoy.
“Right, sir,” said Sterling.
James couldn’t see Sterling’s face, since they sat with their backs to each other, but he could hear the nervousness in the ensign’s voice. As the gunboat accelerated, the ergonomic chair distributed the increasing gee forces evenly across James’s body. Unlike most spacecraft, the Lone Spear’s cockpit was located at the ship’s center of mass, beneath almost ten tons of heavy armor. Two 30 mm projectile cannons, six plasma clusterpod launchers, a squadron of fighter drones, and nearly twenty short-range autolasers added another two tons to the ship’s mass. Of course, most of the guns were either nonfunctional or unarmed due to fleet-wide ammunition constraints, but the gunboat could still handle its own in a fight.
On the screen, the red dots representing the unidentified ships crept closer, making James cringe. The convoy was carrying vital medical supplies and antibiotics to the Colony from Kardunash IV. Six months ago, another convoy carrying similar cargo had come under attack, and most of the supplies had been lost. If this one didn’t make it through, the hospital back home would be hard pressed to provide even basic medical services. Lives were on the line here, and not just in the combat zone.
And Commander Maxwell wanted them to stand down?
“Sterling, power up the drones and get them in the chute. I want to be able to launch fighters the moment this gets ugly.”
“Are you sure, sir? The commander—”
“I know what he said, but the enemy isn’t going to wait for us to arm ourselves before they attack. Are you with me?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Good.” Then stay with me, Sterling.
James picked up the comm transmitter. “Trident One, this is Lone Spear. Have the incoming craft hailed us yet?”
No response.
“Trident One, this is Lone Spear. Do you copy?”
“We copy, Lone Spear,” said the commander. “Stand down as ordered.”
“Uh, Trident One, don’t you think we should position ourselves between the incoming craft and the convoy? If those marks deviate just a couple of degrees from their present vector, they—”
“Negative, Lieutenant. I will not be responsible for an unprovoked attack on civilian craft.”
If those are civvies, James thought angrily, why won’t they hail us?
“Sterling, how are we looking?”
“Good, sir. Shields and gravitics are both online. I’m having a little trouble with the drones, though—the quick release clamps on the second chute appear to be stuck.”
James nodded. “Better readjust the balance, then. Just do your best.”
“Yes, sir.”
The red line on the sector map began to bend in their direction. An alarm on the display began to blink.
“Uh, Captain, it looks like—”
“I see it. Hang on.”
The unidentified craft had altered their vectors and were now heading straight for the convoy. At the rate they were accelerating, they would be within attack range in just a few minutes—exactly as James had feared.
“Trident One, this is Lone Spear. Unidentified craft have altered course and are heading on an attack vector. Do we have permission to engage?”
No response.
“Trident One, do you copy? This is Lone Spear, requesting permission to—”
“Lone Spear, this is Trident One. Hold your current course, but do not move to intercept.”
James bit his lip and clenched his fist in frustration. His orders didn’t make sense—the unidentified ships were closing in on them too fast. By the time the commander figured out what the hell he was doing, the engagement would be as good over, and half the convoy would probably be lost.
Not this time, James told himself. Not on my watch.
“Sterling,” he said, “start cycling power to the RPV shields and gravitic dampers. We’re going in hard and fast.”
“Uh, yes, sir.”
Ignoring the hesitation in his copilot’s voice, James toggled the battle arrays and nosed the Lone Spear toward the enemy. With his left hand, he ramped up the thrusters to full throttle. A terrible, gut-wrenching sensation grabbed his stomach as the engines roared to life.
&
nbsp; “Sterling, the dampers!”
“Right, sorry!”
The pressure eased somewhat as the gravitic dampers absorbed the worst of the sudden acceleration. On the main sector screen, the green line representing their course bent until it coincided almost perfectly with the red lines, like a wire fitting into conduit. They were moving out to intercept the incoming pirates alone. ETA was fifty seconds.
“Sterling, are the shields up?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Map out the targets and relay the data to the combat AI. Get ready to launch drones.”
“But Captain, at our current rate of acceleration, I can’t calculate the release vectors!”
“Then prepare to launch them manually on my mark,” said James. “Don’t worry—you’re doing fine.”
The intercom crackled with Maxwell’s voice. “Lone Spear, this is Trident One. Stand down! Repeat, stand down!”
I can’t do that, Commander.
“Lone Spear, do you copy? Stand—”
“Captain, we have incoming fire!” Sterling shouted. Sure enough, an alarm sounded in the cramped cockpit.
“I see it. Hang on!”
On the main screen, a steady stream of small projectile fire arced towards them along the enemy’s vector. I hope none of those shots slips past us to hit the convoy, James thought.
“Five seconds to impact,” said Sterling. “Three, two, one—”
A high-pitched squeal sounded from deep within the walls of the gunboat as the RPV shield vaporized the incoming projectiles.
“Shields down thirty percent,” said Sterling, his voice rising. “Forty—no, fifty and climbing!”
“Engage our reserves, and make sure the shields hold,” said James, firing the last of the thrusters. “Engine burn at full throttle.”
“But Captain, we’re on a collision course!”
“I know,” said James, gripping the piloting stick with clammy hands. His stomach churned as the gee forces rose noticeably, despite of the gravitic dampers. The ETA on his display dropped to fifteen seconds—hopefully, that would be enough to keep the shields from blowing up in their faces before they made contact with the enemy.
“Lone Spear! Lone Spear!” came the commander’s voice over the intercom. “Pull back and regroup at once! Do you copy?”
It’s too late now, James thought to himself. At least this time, they weren’t the ones who had shot first.
“Twelve seconds to impact,” said Sterling, his voice raw and full of fear. “We need to pull up!”
“Negative, Ensign.”
“But—but we’re going to die!”
We all have to go sometime.
“Just hang in there. Get ready to release drones on my mark.”
Eight seconds. Seven. The high-pitched squeal turned into a scream.
Come on, James thought to himself. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
Five, four—
“Release fighter drones,” he ordered.
A series of popping noises filled the cabin. “Drones away!”
The cluster of red vector lines branched out into eight wildly dancing strands. The Lone Spear shuddered, and a sudden jolt nearly threw him off his chair.
“The shields! I—”
James released a barrage of plasma cluster pods and banked hard to miss the last enemy craft. Alarms blared, and even with the dampers, the sudden change in momentum practically yanked his guts through the floor.
But they were still alive.
James closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The alarms continued to blare in their ears, red lights flashing all around them. He switched them off and wiped his sweaty forehead.
“Sterling,” said James, “how are you doing back there? Feeling all right?”
“N-not really, sir,” he said, shifting in his seat. “I feel sick.”
“Just hang on. I’m going to bring us around.”
“Right, Captain.”
On the main screen, the red vector lines shortened to little stumps as the enemy ships pitched and rolled unpredictably. The Lone Spear’s automated fighter drones, much less massive than the gunboat itself, had already decelerated to match velocity with their targets and were now shooting them to pieces. In just under a minute, they had taken out three of the attackers, and the clusterpods had crippled two more. What was more encouraging, the other gunboats had rallied and were now moving to defend the convoy.
“Let’s check the damage report,” said James, toggling his main screen. “What’s this? Shield projectors are offline?”
“I’m sorry, sir. The shields were dropping too fast, so I—”
“You ejected them?” The rest of the damage didn’t look so bad: a couple of autolasers were smashed and the forward armor had taken a heavy beating, but hull integrity was nominal and all the critical systems were still online.
“Yes,” said Sterling. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Don’t apologize,” said James. “You did the right thing. If the shields had blown back there, we would have been killed. When we get back home, I’m going to put your name in for a commendation.”
“Really? Th-thank you, sir.”
James slowly pulled back on the stick, bringing their nose around 180 degrees. For a while, the room seemed to spin, but much more gently than before. Their momentum had already taken them almost fifty kilometers from the battle, and would easily take them another twenty before they had fully decelerated from combat speeds. That was all right, though—the enemy had lost the initiative, and now found themselves outnumbered and outgunned in a very hostile environment. Even as he swung the Lone Spear back around, two more red dots flickered and winked out on the main screen. Two more kills.
“Sterling,” said James, “plot a course to the Trident and get ready to retrieve the fighter drones.”
“Wait—it’s over?”
“For us, yes.”
The young ensign drew in a sharp breath. “W-we’re alive,” he said, as if no other realization could be more profound. “Stars of Earth, we made it!”
James grinned and watched the map as the last three enemy ships disengaged and made a hard reversal, heading back to the Lagrange settlements. In just a few hours, the convoy would be in deep enough space that pirates shouldn’t be a threat. With the engagement as good as over, there was nothing else to do but switch to autopilot and settle in for the long ride back to the convoy.
* * * * *
“Have you ever killed a man?”
Danica Nova stared at James with cold, narrowed eyes. Her short black hair was pulled back, her dark eyes piercing him with their unflinching gaze. Even in a sweat-stained t-shirt, she commanded such a presence that he couldn’t help but answer.
“No. Of course not.”
“Do you think you ever could?”
“Yes,” he said, a little too quickly. She stared him in the eye and frowned. “I mean, maybe,” he stuttered. “I don’t know. I think I could.”
Danica folded her arms. “There are two kinds of people in this universe,” she said. “Those who can kill without hesitation, and those who cannot. Sheep and wolves, in other words. You know what a sheep is?”
“Yes,” said James. “They had pastures for them in the agri-domes on Kardunash IV, before—well, before the Hameji came.” Before everything fell apart.
“And you know what wolves are, too?”
“No,” he admitted.
Danica took a deep breath and stood with her hands clasped smartly behind her. “The Old Earth Archives tell of a time, long before spaceflight, when humanity lived off of primitive agriculture. According to these records, most of the Earth’s surface was unsettled, roughly analogous to the Outer Reaches today. Wolves were untamed beasts who lived off the land, eating sheep or men or whatever else they could hunt down and kill.
“In civilized society, most people are like sheep. They live in large, comfortable communities where they think they’re safe f
rom those who would harm them. But out on the fringes, you’ll find the wolves. Those are the people who can—and will—kill without hesitation. Those are the ones who fight and win wars. Those are the ones who have the power to destroy civilization.”
James tensed as he thought of Kardunash IV, the capitol world of his home star, slagged to oblivion by the invading Hameji battle fleets. Billions of lives, all snuffed out in only a matter of hours.
“Those are the Hameji, you mean?”
“Yes,” said Danica. “Those are the Hameji.”
“So what do I do, then?” he asked. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
“If you want to fight a wolf, you have to become one.”
James felt the blood drain from his cheeks. “You mean, I have to become like the Hameji? A monster?”
“No,” said Danica. “Because you see, on Old Earth, there were two kinds of wolves: those who lived in the wild, and those who were tamed by man. The tame wolves became sheepdogs—protectors of the sheep. They used their killing instincts to hunt down the wolves.
“You see, Ensign, the only reason civilized society isn’t overrun by barbarians and criminals is because of the sheepdogs. We think of our soldiers and policemen as great heroes, when really, they have more in common with murderers than with the people they protect. Instead of becoming monsters, however, they learn to channel their natures for good—to serve and protect, rather than to kill and destroy.”
To serve and protect, James thought. Even if it means becoming a wolf to do it.
He’d thought over that conversation many times in the years since. The universe outside of his home was like a dark, black forest, filled with ravenous wolves. Could he ever kill a man? Now, he did that almost every time he climbed into the cockpit of his gunboat. Of course, it was easy to kill someone who was a blip on a holoscreen, a faceless target fed to him by a computer. It was harder to kill someone who was standing right in front of you. He’d done it before, though, and would probably do it again. And at the rate at which the security situation in the Karduna system was deteriorating, that day would probably come sooner rather than later.