Constitution: Book 1 of the Legacy Fleet Trilogy

by Nick Webb

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, sir. There was certainly a fluctuation in the link between the singularity and the ships. But at the moment of impact, the data is all washed out due to the spike in the gravitational waves coming off of it—when the Rainbow hit, that’s a whole lot of mass to get absorbed all at once, and it resulted in, essentially, a very miniature supernova. In fact, that’s what’s going on when they launch or teleport the singularity at their target. The amount of mass falling in overwhelms the black hole, bounces off the singularity at the core, and explodes outward with extraordinary energy.”

  So that was the fate of Lunar Base. They were essentially caught up in a miniature supernova explosion. Good god.

  “Well, keep at it. We need some answers.”

  “Aye, sir,” the science officer said, turning back to the data on his screen.

  A distant rumble preceded a violent lurch that would have launched everyone out of their seats were their restraints not fastened. As the rumbling increased, a loud droning whine coursed through the ship. “Sir, our grav stabilizers can’t handle this. We’re about to lose gravity, and if we keep it up we may lose q-jump capability too—”

  Granger thumped his armrest and swore to himself. “Of course,” he muttered. He glanced at his console and saw that they probably only had enough stored energy for one q-jump. A second would require another hour or so of charging. “Cut the thrust to three g’s,” he said to the nav crew, before adding, “and prepare for q-jump.”

  “Sir?” Ensign Prince looked up, surprised. “To where?”

  “Where the hell do you think?”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Near Earth

  Bridge, ISS Constitution

  “Brilliant,” Commander Proctor said, tapping at her own console, which surprised Granger. It wasn’t a particularly brilliant maneuver, just one that was not often done due to the stresses involved in q-jumping so close to the gravity well of Earth, and definitely not while engaged in a deceleration burn. The strain on the Constitution would be considerable, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Proctor continued, “And we’ll have enough energy stored up for a second jump if we cut power to the main engines and—”

  “We’re not cutting power to the mains, Commander. We’re going to q-jump and continue decelerating until we’re right back in the thick of things. Draw their fire off the rest of the fleet, since our armor seems to be the only thing that can take a beating and come out the other end alive.”

  Proctor glanced up at him. “But, sir, our gun crews report that we’ve run through our loaded ordnance. It’ll take another half hour to get fully loaded again.”

  “Every mag-rail is depleted?”

  She glanced at her screen to confirm. “Mostly, yes. Crews five, twenty, and forty-three through forty-five still have about half a magazine each, but the rest are already engaged in reload.”

  Granger shrugged. “Fine. You go to battle with the army you have, Commander, and our people need us.”

  A few minutes later, the calculations were complete, and Granger prepared to give the order to jump. “All hands, prepare for battle. You’ve performed admirably twice so far. Let’s show them what we’re made of this time. Anticipate heavy incoming fire. Damage crews be on alert and make main power and mag-rails your priority. All fighters, prepare to launch.”

  Before signaling the q-jump, he tapped the comm. “Commander Pierce, this is Granger. Your boys ready?”

  “Ready for action, sir. We’ll give them an ass-whooping they won’t soon forget,” came the young CAG’s reply. Granger knew the young man was probably still reeling from the knowledge of his father’s certain death, but he was handling it admirably. Professional and unflappable—just how they were trained to be.

  “Good. Are the Qantas’s fighters integrated into the squadrons?”

  “As best we could, sir. There’s still some lingering communications and computer system integration, but we’ll just have to do the best we can.”

  “Good man. Focus your attention on the Swarm fighters. Let us take care of the capital ships, but stand by for updates. Granger out.”

  With that, he signaled to Ensign Prince to initiate the q-jump, and within a few seconds the familiar queasy, vaguely off-balanced feeling typical of q-jumps washed over him before he steadied himself on his chair.

  “Time to weapons range?” he asked, as he watched the view of the continuing battle raging near the wreckage of Valhalla Station subtly change, indicating their change in position.

  “Thirty seconds.”

  “Hold fire until we’re right in the middle of it. Then let loose on that second ship we were targeting earlier. Fighters, prepare to launch in”—he glanced at his readout, looking for their arrival time—“two minutes.”

  On the screen, the battle still raged, but things were looking far more grim than they were just ten minutes ago when they flew past the first time. Several more IDF capital ships had broken up into dozens of smaller pieces, and as they watched, another small cruiser took a direct blast from the deadly green directed-energy weapon and erupted into a blinding explosion as its power core went critical. The blast caught dozens of fighters in its wake, sending them careening into other vessels or off into deep space. Wreckage hurtled through the field of the battle, and it looked as if the remaining IDF ships were rallying for a sustained assault on the alien ship the Constitution had damaged on its previous flyby.

  “What’s the comm chatter like?” he asked the communications officer.

  “Admiral Jones on the Trident has taken command of the fleet, sir—all comm traffic from Valhalla Station is silent. He’s ordering all craft to close in on the alien ship we damaged and concentrate fire on it.”

  “Great minds think alike,” Granger said wryly. “When we arrive, position the Constitution between the alien ship and as many IDF vessels as you can.” He turned to the tactical station. “And stay on the lookout for that singularity. I want to know the second they start generating it.”

  “Aye, sir. Ten seconds until we engage.”

  “Speed?”

  “Down to one thousand kph and falling.”

  Proctor frowned. “We’re still coming in too fast.”

  Ensign Prince nodded. “We’ll overshoot by about fifty kilometers. It’ll take a few more minutes to swing back around.”

  “Open fire,” said Granger. “Launch fighters. Commander Pierce, engage the alien fighters. Draw their fire away from the cruisers. See if you can’t lure them towards the other two alien ships to act as a defensive screen they’ll have to target and fire through.”

  “Aye, sir,” came several voices at once.

  And with that, they entered into close engagement combat for the second time in a day. The battle near Lunar Base already seemed like ages ago, as if they were all battle-hardened veterans. He chuckled to himself at the absurdity. Yesterday he was about to retire the oldest ship in the fleet and take a desk job in an IDF that hadn’t seen so much as a border dispute in over seventy years, and now they were all veterans who knew more dead comrades than living.

  The ship rumbled. Green lit up the viewscreen as an alien beam slammed into the forward section.

  “Evasive maneuvers. Starboard thrusters, engage at point five,” yelled Proctor. “Emergency crews to port mag-rails. Get guns twenty through forty reloaded now!”

  Granger nodded. His new XO was getting a handle on combat. Hell, for that matter, they all were.

  The ship shuddered again with another sustained blast. “Heavy damage in the forward section, port side! They’ve cut through the hull!”

  Damn. Ten meters of solid tungsten, cut through like a filleted fish. He wondered how the remaining IDF ships had lasted so long.

  As if in answer, the nearest heavy cruiser flared in a blinding flash. Debris and bodies came streaming out of the fissures in the ship as it broke in two.

  “That was the Trident, sir,” said the comm officer.

  Admiral Jones was dead. H
e glanced at his command readout at the roster of available IDF ships and realized there were no admirals left. Not even a commodore. And of all the remaining captains, he had the longest tenure, which in the absence of any standing order transferring command, meant that he was it.

  “Open a channel to the fleet,” he said with a nod to the comm station.

  “Open, sir.”

  “This is Captain Granger. I’m taking operational command of the fleet. Any cruisers with offensive nuclear capabilities, contact me immediately. All capital ships, focus your fire on the lead. All corvettes and frigates, swarm around the other two. Aim for their weapons installations. Keep at least five hundred meters between each ship to avoid collateral damage in case of catastrophic loss. All fighter squadrons, engage the alien fighters and draw them away from our cruisers....”

  On the screen, another light cruiser erupted into a spherical white blast, punctuated by the nightmarish green alien energy beam. He grimly added, “And if your vessel is in imminent danger of loss, you’re hereby ordered to execute Omega Protocols.”

  Proctor glanced over at him, her face grim. “Has it come to that?”

  He simply nodded, without responding. Omega Protocols—he’d just ordered the fleet captains to be suicide runners.

  “Sir, the four new alien ships are nearly here. Two minutes until they’re in weapons range.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Near Earth

  Bridge, ISS Constitution

  Two minutes. They seemed to be finally holding their own against the original three alien ships—at least, a third of the IDF fleet was still firing and hadn’t been lost yet. But four more alien ships meant their very certain and quick deaths.

  “We just lost the Furious and the Minnesota, sir. Those were our only two heavy cruisers with nuclear missiles still in service.” The tactical officer sounded grim and distant. Granger looked around at the bridge crew—they looked like dead men and women, like they had given up and knew their deaths were certain and imminent.

  The ship shuddered with another direct blast from the alien’s devastating energy weapon. “Sir! Hull breach on deck twenty, forward section!”

  “Seal bulkheads!” yelled Proctor. “Get emergency crews up there!”

  Another explosion rumbled through the ship, and then another much closer which caused the bridge to lurch, dislodging more material from the jagged crack across the ceiling and starboard wall.

  And inevitably, the tell-tale throbbing and rhythmic shuddering began. Not of explosions or the impact of the energy beams, but a harbinger of something far worse.

  “Sir, they’re initiating the singularity!”

  On the screen, again, the now familiar white shimmering light appeared in the midst of the three alien ships. The green beams ceased as the three ships apparently paused to redirect all their attention and energy to the generation of the singularity.

  And there could only be one target. Valhalla Station was ruined, tumbling apart in pieces. The Furious and the Minnesota were destroyed, and the only remaining heavy cruisers were belching flame and debris. The smattering of light cruisers darting around the alien ships, unleashing whatever weapons they still had, were no great threat. The Constitution was the largest target around.

  “We need to hit that thing with something really big,” said Proctor.

  “Well said, Commander.” Granger raised his eyebrow at his XO’s way with words. He scanned his command console, looking for the most damaged cruiser—one that might be near destruction anyway. Jabbing the screen with a finger, he thumbed open the comm.

  “Captain Bryan, your engines are going critical. What’s your status?”

  He watched the light cruiser tumble out of control. Debris was streaming from its sides. It was a wonder anyone was still alive over there. A voice crackled faintly over the comm. “Tim? Is that you?”

  Granger winced. “It’s me, Gordon.” Gordon Bryan was one of his good friends from his first assignment aboard the ISS Warrior. That old ship—another one in the Legacy Fleet and basically a carbon copy of the Constitution, lay in dry dock at Europa Station around Jupiter, but Granger still kept in touch with many of his old friends from his time there.

  “Not going so well, is it?”

  “No, it’s not.” Granger glanced at the timer on the screen that indicated roughly how long they had until the singularity was expected to launch. Less than two minutes. “Look, Gordon, our readings indicate you’re about to lose engine containment.”

  “Yeah, turns out that battle’s a bitch. Who knew?” His friend chuckled, but then grew serious. “Look, Tim, I know what you’re going to ask me to do. But our navigation’s out. We’re goners.”

  Explosions and yells came out of the speakers. “Gordon?” Granger leaned forward. No response. He sighed. “Gordon? You still there?”

  A cough, and a rasp. “Yeah, still here.”

  Granger studied the tactical arrangement of the battle on his screen. The Missouri, Captain Bryan’s ship, was very close, and directly between them and the growing singularity. “Gordon, we’re going to push you in. That’ll disrupt the singularity, and give us more time to take these bastards out. If we don’t, the Constitution is toast. And it’s looking like we’re the only armor out here that can put up with that—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, you want me to take a bullet for you.” A pause, and a fit of coughing over the speakers. Damn—Gordon sounded worse than Granger, who suppressed coughing of his own. “Sounds like a plan. Push us in. We’ve only got another few minutes anyway.”

  Granger motioned over at navigation, and murmured, “Move us in close, rest the hulls together, and give them a momentum transfer in the direction of the singularity.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Granger looked at the comm speaker, imagining his old friend on the other side, most likely burned, or bleeding. “Gordon, we’re coming in close now.” He paused, searching for words appropriate to the occasion. Nothing particularly eloquent came. “Thank you, sir. It’s been an honor.”

  “Likewise, Tim. Say goodbye to Julie for me, if you come out the other side of this alive.” The ship lurched as it gently collided with the Missouri, and began to push against it. The other ship slowly, but surely, tumbled away, moving steadily toward the singularity. “Tell her I love her. Tell her sorry. I wanted to come back and work things out with her but—”

  Granger nodded. His friend was rambling. Probably a little delirious from loss of blood or combat stress, and talking about things that Granger wasn’t familiar with, but it didn’t matter. “I will, Gordon. God bless.”

  “Tell her I wanted to make it right. Tell her I wanted to—”

  The speaker cut off in a hiss of static, and Granger’s stomach clenched as he noticed the green flash on the screen.

  “No,” he breathed, watching as one of the alien ships lanced the Missouri with its green beam, and the light cruiser exploded in a fiery white blast. It was so close that the Constitution was caught in its wake, pelted with debris, and the Old Bird shook and lurched.

  Commander Proctor approached him from behind. “Sir, we need something with higher velocity, or else they’ll just blast it before it reaches the target.”

  He nodded. Numbly, as if in slow motion, he reached for the comm again. “Commander Pierce, bridge.”

  “Captain?” came Pierce’s voice.

  “Order one of our fighters into the singularity.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me.”

  Pierce protested. “But, sir, I can’t—”

  “You will, Commander. Do it now. That’s an order. Granger out.”

  He turned to Proctor, shaking his head. The horrified look on her face told him all he needed to know.

  “God help me, Shelby.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Near Earth

  X-25 Fighter Cockpit

  “Ballsy! I—there’s—” Miller broke off, struggling to maintain control as she weaved t
hrough the knot of alien bogeys. This time there were more of them. Many, many more. Hundreds. Possibly in the thousands. She began to understand why they’d picked up the name Swarm all those years ago. “There’s too many! I can’t—”

  “Just hold on! Pull hard to your left on my mark and corkscrew z minus two. Ready ... GO!”

  Trusting his tactics, she pulled sharply to the left and was thrown violently to her right into the restraints. Struggling against the g-forces, she keyed in the corkscrew. Plunging through the plane of attack and wincing from several rounds that hit the body of her X-25, she exhaled in relief as Ballsy shot upward through the middle of her corkscrew, blasting about half a dozen bogeys into brief fireballs.

  “Woo hoo!” he yelled into the comm, and she grinned. Reaching forward to touch the picture propped up on her dash, she swung the fighter around and came up behind Dogtown and Pluck, who’d picked up several bogeys on their tail. With a few quick depressions of the trigger, she unleashed a stutter of rounds into each craft, sending them flaming, tumbling end over end, until they broke apart on the hull of the alien ship just a few hundred meters away.

  “Well now you’re just showing off, Fishtail.”

  She took a moment to survey the battle. In spite of their squad’s successes, things looked desperately grim. As she watched, another IDF heavy cruiser broke in two as a devastating green energy beam darted out from the nearest alien vessel and sliced right into its core. Debris and fire coursed out of the blast zone. She felt sick when she realized what some of the debris was—the unmistakable tangle of bodies and limbs. One flew by her cockpit viewport as she raced ahead of the exploding cruiser, cartwheeling head over heels out into the deadness of space.

  “Fishtail! Pay attention!” Ballsy’s voice broke her focus on the body, and she snapped back into action.

  Nearly too late.

  A pair of bogeys was bearing down on her, and she flinched at the jolt of rounds colliding with her wings.