Webb Compendium

by Nick

  He muttered a profanity under his breath. Dammit, Haws, it’s not like she’s after your job or something. “He’s been busy.” Holding out a hand to indicate the doorway he continued, “If you’ll follow me….”

  Granger walked to the door of his ready room, but she didn’t move. “Actually, sir, I wanted to get started right away. We’ve only got two weeks and I want to hit the ground running. You still have a full contingent of V-wing X-25 fighters on board, no? I want to gut about half a dozen of them, strip out all their weaponry, and use them as hands-on display pieces down in the hangar. You know, so kids can get up inside of them and pretend they’re fighter jocks for a few minutes. That should take the longest, so I want to get started early.

  “Next, I want to convert most of the command consoles on the bridge into interactive displays and configure them to run in simulation mode. That way we can run guests through in groups and give them the chance to command a warship in battle for a few maneuvers. We can wire them together with the environmental controls to simulate the inertia changes with the artificial gravity deckplates. Then, I want to—”

  Granger had held up a hand, but she steamrolled right over his gesture. Finally he had to raise his voice. “Commander?”

  “—the galley into a full service restau—” She looked up from her datapad in surprise. “Yes, Captain Granger?”

  “No.”

  She lowered her datapad and pursed her lips, looking as if she were about to stab him with her beady eyes. “Excuse me? Sir?”

  “No.” He desperately wanted to stop the conversation there, to let the single word of defiance hang in the air as he sent her packing, but reluctantly he went on. “Not today. We’ll start tomorrow. We’re almost at the end of the day shift, and tonight we’ve got a standard maintenance of the main engines—”

  “But you’re not going to need those engines in two weeks, Captain Granger,” she interrupted. “I suggest that—”

  “Regardless, my orders stand. I’m still in command of this ship, and if you want to protest that inconvenient fact you can take it up with Admiral Yarbrough.” He glanced at the old leather-strap watch on his wrist. “And by my reckoning she’s dead asleep by now, so you may as well go kick back, have a few drinks at our bar—”

  “You have a bar?”

  “They call the place Afterburners. Well, technically it’s just a satellite service counter from the galley down in the observation deck by engineering, but some of the boys put together a little distillery. It’s actually quite good if you can believe it. Just don’t drink too much of it or you’ll spend an evening in the detox unit in sickbay. ” He turned back to the door and nodded to the marines as he passed, Commander Proctor hot on his heels. “Dismissed, Commander. See you in the morning.”

  “I—” she began. But the conversation was over. He’d left.

  She pounded the air beneath her hanging fists at her side and muttered, “Dammit. This is going to be a long two weeks.”

  “Ma’am?” One of the marines looked at her questioningly.

  “As you were, Corporal.”

  He snapped back to attention and she strode down the hallway to the elevator shaft. Maybe if she found the astrometrics lab she could get a head start on converting it into a planetarium.

  The captain’s blunt declaration repeated in her mind and grated her nerves. No, he’d said. How dare he? Admiral Yarbrough had recruited her herself for this job. She’d promised her that if she could successfully handle a smooth transition of the Constitution into one of the Smithsonian’s centerpiece museums then she’d be up for a command position.

  Ha—command. Something she’d always dreamed of in her previous life as a scientist. It wasn’t until she gave that career up and joined IDF that the prospect suddenly became more real, especially with her well-placed friends higher up in IDF’s Science and Research Division. And with Yarbrough as her new patron, Proctor would rise quickly. She might not be the youngest captain on record, but definitely the captain with the fewest years of service.

  But Yarbrough had warned her about Granger. A washed-up, cantankerous old soldier who’d had more than his share of discipline problems. The admiralty was doing its damnedest to ease him out of command, and it seemed decommissioning the Old Bird a few years ahead of schedule was the easiest way to do that.

  The doors to the astrometrics lab slid open, revealing banks of computer access stations and walls of monitors, which, at the flip of a switch could project three dimensional holographic images of whichever starfield or planetary system the user wanted. Perfect for the future museum’s new planetarium.

  “Excuse me, Commander?”

  An older lieutenant peered up at her from his station. His eyes squinted, and the frown indicated she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

  “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  “I’m sorry, but the captain called down a few moments ago. He informed me that the astrometrics lab is closed for the rest of the duty shift today, and will not reopen until the morning.”

  Granger, you old bastard.

  “Excellent—with the lab closed that will help me be able to get a head start on the modifications to—”

  The Lieutenant held up a hand, breaching decorum by interrupting her. “I’m sorry, sir, but he was quite clear. No modifications are to happen before tomorrow morning.”

  She bristled. How dare he? She had half a mind to get on the comm and ask Yarbrough to beat the old fart into submission for her.

  But no. That was not the way to impress the admiralty. If she had Yarbrough fight her battles for her, how could they ever trust her with command?

  No, she’d have to be patient. Persistent. Granger may try to oppose her at every turn—in fact, she was sure by that point that he’d throw up every roadblock he could. But she’d push forward anyway.

  That captain’s chair would be hers, dammit. But not on this piece of junk, thank God, Proctor indulged, allowing herself to feel superior. Her ship would be new—top of the IDF line. All she had to do was get there.

  She looked down at the waiting man. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

  And with one last glance around the astrometrics lab, she swept out the door, leaving a slightly disappointed-looking lieutenant. Granger had probably instructed him to prod a reaction out of her. Well, she wasn’t going to play along.

  In fact, she’d just have to prod harder.

  Did you enjoy this excerpt: Continue reading here

  Hero is a short story that bridges the 30 year gap in between books three and four of the Legacy Fleet series that began with Constitution. I’m dividing the Legacy Fleet series up into three book bites so you’re not locked into a long 9 book arc, but you should stick around for the whole series—you’ll love this series arc I’ve got planned. Anyway, please enjoy Hero, in which Captain Shelby Proctor is tasked with hunting down that last remnants of the Swarm, but instead is called upon to do something far more horrific. If you’ve already read the first three books of the Legacy Fleet series (Constitution, Warrior, and Victory), but haven’t continued the series yet, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! Buy Independence here, and see what’s next for the survivors of the Second Swarm War.

  HERO

  A Short

  Prelude To

  Legacy Fleet Series Books 4-6

  Terran Sector, Earth

  IDF CENTCOM, Omaha

  “Just a reminder to you all, this presentation is classified top secret. Level Tau Twenty.” The intelligence official cast a dour glance across the assembled officers, as if judging their worthiness.

  Lieutenant Volz whistled. “Tau Twenty! This must be some serious shit.”

  “Cut it, Ballsy.” Captain Proctor swiveled around to glare at him. He always chose the most inappropriate times to be a smart-ass.

  The IDF Intel officer glowered at Volz, but continued his scripted speech. “Per regulation thirty section eleven, and by United Earth statute UE das
h 2654 dash 511, I must now review classification levels and penalties—both civil and criminal—before we go on. Top secret level Tau One comprises all information regarding IDF fleet movements. Penalties include imprisonment up to five years and up to one hundred thousand UE credits. Level Tau Two comprises….”

  He droned on and on, and Captain Proctor was beginning to wonder how they’d ever won the war in the first place. If the bureaucrats had had their way, they’d still be reviewing paperwork and reciting regulations for months after the first attack, and in the meantime the Swarm would have pulverized every last UE world into dust, which no doubt would have been documented into a ream of paperwork by the surviving bureaucrats.

  “Top secret level Tau Ten comprises all information regarding weapons systems, regardless whether such information is common knowledge or not. This includes all rail-gun technology, any laser systems over one hundred megawatts, and all—”

  Volz snored, his head lolled back. Proctor reached forward and whacked him on the side of the head. “What? What?” He jerked upright in his seat. “Did I miss something important?”

  To her right, Lieutenant Diaz and Ensign Prucha had to stifle snickers with balled-up fists. Proctor rolled her eyes. “Just get on with it please, Commander.”

  The intel official leveled an icy glare at Volz, but continued. Several minutes later, he finished, finally. “And top secret level Tau Twenty comprises all information, military or otherwise, regarding the Swarm.”

  The mood in the room changed, palpably. What had before been a nuisance, now seemed urgent. They all knew why they were here, five years after the end of the Second Swarm War. Five years after Captain Tim Granger had piloted the ISS Victory into the heart of the black hole in the Penumbra system with a shipload of anti-matter bombs, ending the Swarm’s reach into the galaxy.

  There could only be one reason why they were here, why General Norton had summoned them from what they had long been waiting for: a routine planetary survey out in unexplored space—the reason they’d all entered IDF in the first place. Only one reason was urgent enough. IDF Intel must have found a surviving Swarm ship.

  “It doesn’t matter if a piece of information about the Swarm is in the public domain or not—all intel we gather on the Swarm is classified top secret level Tau Twenty, and all IDF personnel or ordered to refrain from public comment in any news media. Penalties include a minimum of thirty years in prison, with a maximum penalty … of termination.”

  “Death, you mean,” said Volz. “Just say it, man.”

  The intel official nodded. “Now, with that out of the way, I’ll bring in the General.” The man stepped out of the room, and moments later, Norton came in.

  Everyone stood. He waved a hand at them, patting the air. “Please be seated.” He took the podium at the front of the small briefing room and pulled a data pad out of his briefcase, clearing his throat before he looked back up at all of them. Proctor had brought her command crew with her, plus all department heads. She knew why they were here, and thought they deserved to know the truth about their upcoming mission. Given what they’d been through five years earlier, she felt they all deserved it.

  “I’m sure you’ve all guessed why I’ve summoned you here.”

  “Is the Swarm back?” said Volz, his tone dramatically changed from earlier. Now he was deadly serious. Proctor was half tempted to tell him to shut up and let his superior officers do the talking, but then remembered that Ballsy and his pilots would be on the front line if it turned into a shootout. He had just as much right to do the questioning as any of them.

  “Yes, and no,” said Norton, hedging. “As background, let me describe to you, briefly, our efforts regarding the ongoing Swarm mop-up operation. You all know that the Swarm is actually a trans-dimensional race based in a universe parallel to our own, that somehow managed to find its way into our universe some twenty thousand years ago though the black hole in the Penumbra system. Over the millennia, they usurped the liquid race we know as the Valarisi, and through them managed to bring other races under their control: the Dolmasi and the Skiohra we know, as well as the Findiri and the Quiassi, both of which we still have had no contact with. They controlled all these races and individuals remotely through what the Skiohra call the Ligature, basically an organic meta-space link. The same one they implanted into Granger that let him communicate with the Swarm. They also controlled a substantial proportion of the upper Russian Confederation government and military, though over the past five years most of them have been … purged.”

  Volz snorted again.

  A hint of a glimmer in Norton’s eye, as if he concurred with Bally’s unspoken assessment of the Russian purges. “Anyway, over the years we’ve essentially hacked our way into the meta-space link. The Dolmasi and the Skiohra have changed the way they use it now that the Swarm are no longer controlling them, so we don’t have any insight into those races. But the Valarisi … they are another matter.”

  “You mean, they’re still active? The Valarisi?”

  “Of sorts, yes. Not active like they were under the control of the Swarm. Hell, most people still consider the Valarisi the Swarm. In most peoples’ minds, the two races are the same. But with the trans-dimensional Swarm gone, the Valarisi have … had a rough time of it. In the immediate aftermath of Granger’s gambit—”

  “You mean his ascension,” said Volz, with a smirk.

  Norton rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t get me started on the Grangerite nonsense.” He looked as if he wanted to say more about Granger’s new religion, or whatever the wackos called themselves, but continued on with the briefing. “After the war, the Swarm carriers essentially shut down, and we had a field day. You all remember. We destroyed hundreds of ships. Razed a dozen worlds of Swarm matter, or, Valarisi, as we later came to understand.”

  “We almost caused a genocide,” said Captain Proctor. The room went still.

  Norton nodded. “I won’t contest that characterization. But at the time, what choice did we have? Over half of United Earth’s worlds were utterly devastated. Billions had died. Imagine what the public would have done if we just sat on our hands and let the Valarisi waltz off into the sunset as if nothing happened?”

  Commander Oppenheimer, her XO, shrugged. “One good attempted genocide deserves another….”

  “So, you’re saying that you hacked into the Ligature, and found another Swarm carrier—A Valarisi ship?” Proctor corrected herself.

  “Not just one Valarisi ship. From what we can tell, we found all of them.”

  Proctor had thought the room was quite before. But now all fidgeting stopped.

  “All of them?” she said.

  Norton lifted his data pad and tapped it repeatedly. “All of them. My teams have been over the evidence and the analysis is nearly one hundred percent certain. We’ve tracked down every single remaining Swarm carrier to one star system. Far beyond UE space. Beyond Russian Confederation space. Hell, we’ve even been in touch with our contacts with the Caliphate and the slaver syndicates out on the periphery. As far as we can tell, no one has been out that far.”

  “Let me guess,” began Proctor. “You want the Chesapeake to make contact? Go out there and assess the situation? And it’s to be top secret level Tau Twenty because if the public found out we were scoping out the Valarisi rather than destroying them, there’d be hell to pay?”

  Norton pointed at her. “Nailed it.” He smiled at them all. “Any questions?”

  “What if they just want to talk? Uh, after their fashion?” said Commander Diaz.

  “Then talk to them. Gather all the intel you can.”

  “And if they’re hostile?” said Volz.

  Norton shrugged. “Then do what you do best. Beat the shit out of them.”

  One hundred lightyears beyond the Veracruz Sector

  Bridge, ISS Chesapeake

  “One more q-jump,” said Commander Oppenheimer from the XO’s station. “All departments report ready, Captain.”

&nbs
p; She nodded. “Very well, Commander. Execute final q-jump.”

  The monitor at the front of the bridge shifted. Where before had been the blackness of interstellar space now hung a red planet with its sun gleaming in the background. If Proctor hadn’t known any better she would have said it looked like Mars, but on closer inspection the surface features were rougher, with huge swaths of black and yellow. And the atmosphere illuminated by the sun at the planet’s limb was definitely thicker than that of Mars.

  But what caught her eye immediately was the cluster of dots near the north pole of the planet. “Zoom in,” she said.

  The external camera swiveled and focused on the cluster of dots, which swelled until they were the size of Swarm carriers. Fifteen, at least.

  Proctor felt a shiver go up her spine. In the year after the end of the Second Swarm War, she’d occasionally stumbled on a dormant Swarm carrier, and due to standing orders from IDF CENTCOM, had always summarily dispatched them. They never fought back. But she’d never seen a formation of them like this. Not since the war.

  The war that had claimed billions of lives.

  “Alert condition red,” she murmured, standing up and approaching the viewscreen. “Remarkable.” Her eyes drifted over the alien curves of the carriers. Easily ten kilometers long each, just one of them was a formidable match for the ISS Chesapeake, one of the last Legacy Fleet ships from the previous century. “Full sensor sweep. I want to know what they’re up to.”

  Lieutenant Diaz at tactical nodded and leaned over to confer with Ensign Diamond, the sensor officer. Moments later, Diamond look up. “Reading some activity, ma’am.”

  The viewscreen confirmed it. What before had been fifteen dormant vessels now looked like a beehive. It seemed each carrier had disgorged hundreds, thousands of Swarm fighters, and they were buzzing around their formation like angry bees.