Four Tomorrows: A Space Opera Box Set

by James Palmer

  Dr. James Silver was partly responsible for saving the compliment of scientists from Space Lab, including Dr. Morgan. He had been at his boss’ side since she was brought in until he had to go away on a business matter. Both of their futures are up in the air. As yet, it is undetermined whether or not the Space Lab program will be continued into the next year or if the station will be rebuilt or not. Renewed hostilities with fringe scavenger contingents may force us to use those funds to further our military and safeguard procedures.

  Regrettably, Space Lab’s head of security, Lt. Sheron Vandrell died as a result of complications from injuries she had sustained in the attack on the space station. She had severe internal bleeding. The medics do not believe she was even aware of how badly she had been injured while she worked to keep Dr. Cynthia Morgan alive. The good doctor has not taken this news lightly. She feels a measure of responsibility for Lt. Vandrell’s death even though I have tried to explain that for a soldier there is no greater sacrifice than to die in service of another. She, we all, should be proud of the legacy that Lt. Sheron Vandrell has left behind and should all make an effort to live up to the high standard she has set for us. In this regard I have posthumously awarded her the Alliance Medal of Valor. It is en route to her family on Space Station Gilbert in the IO sector even as this report is written.

  Now that Dr. Morgan’s condition has vastly improved, Dr. Silver and Ensign Bailey (I’m requesting a promotion for this exemplary young officer as well) have accompanied Captain Harmon and Lt. Allen to the crash sight of the Pegasus. They have been through so much with the captain that they both volunteered to help out with recovery efforts. I didn’t see any harm in having this civilian temporarily involved in a military salvaging operation. Sadly, though, it is my humble opinion that the Pegasus is a lost cause and should be scrapped after all personal effects have been removed.

  Marshal Maxwell Vortex and his crew were pulled to safety by the Ulysis mere seconds before Space Lab’s core exploded. The marshal’s ship, The Bounty’s Pride had received major damage in the battle and has been dry docked at Bridger Corporation until further notice. The marshal and his staff have settled back into their headquarters here on Mars. Out of the thirty-nine snub fighters that were launched into the battle with the Scavengers, only twelve were destroyed.

  Memorial services were held for those brave souls and for the casualties from the Pegasus and Space Lab yesterday as they were each given a heroes burial at Mar’s Memorial Gardens. Captain Virginia Harmon and I attended a small, intimate funeral service for retired Captain Franklin Thorne immediately following the services for the marshal’s men and women. Only Captain Harmon, myself, and his family were present as per Captain Thorne’s last wish. No fanfare. Just love and respect. A good way to be remembered.

  Lt. Melvin Jeffries has been released by the Ulysis’ chief medical officer. He has fully recovered from his injuries inflicted by the Earth Liberation League terrorists on board the Ulysis. This man saved my life as well. I am hereby requesting Mr. Jeffries services for my personal staff as a pilot, for which he is well trained. I feel that Mr. Jeffries can go a long way in our organization. I aim to see he gets there.

  As for myself, I hope to put this incident behind me. My personal physician tells me that my injuries will heal in time. My new facial prosthesis will be far more resilient than the previous one, I’ve been told. I certainly hope they are right. This one seems a little lighter as well.

  In conclusion I would respectfully ask that the UPA legislature carefully examine the evidence presented by these amazing men and women. The planet Earth will forever be the prize for the Earth Liberation League or another group like them. I can only assume that another attempt will be made at some unspecified point in the future.

  I urge you all to make the best decision possible. Not for my sake or even your own, but for the sake of those people whom we serve. We serve the citizens of the UPA. Rich or poor, it doesn’t matter. Young or old, healthy or sick, it should not matter. Take a look at what has happened here and ask yourself one question. See if you come up with the same answer I did.

  Was it worth it?

  Signed.

  Admiral James McKeen.

  # # #

  The admiral faced the monitor on his desk.

  As the last words he spoke scrolled across the screen James McKeen tapped a keypad marked save. “Send a copy of this to all parties mentioned and to the Alliance legislative session,” he ordered the computer, which obediently chirped an affirmative. “And have them read it in open session if you can. Mark the message: URGENT.”

  The computer scrolled along, swiftly complying with the admiral’s orders. McKeen slowly leaned back in his chair, feet propped on his desk as he stared out the thick window of his office at the Mars colony. The city stretched out to the horizon, as far as his eye could see.

  He loved this place.

  It was home.

  He knew his purpose, understood what it was he fought for.

  Freedom.

  54

  Earth’s Moon

  Earth’s moon hung silently in orbit of its mother planet.

  As it had done for centuries prior, it once again bore silent witness to the atrocities of both former and present inhabitants of the blue green planet committed one against another. It had also watched humanities march from their small sliver of the cosmos toward the stars.

  Some took the moon as their own, colonized it, and settled.

  Others continued moving to Mars and beyond.

  But now Alpha Colony had been destroyed.

  The husk that was once the Starship Pegasus lay buried beneath the granite surface of the moon. What was once known as Alpha Colony was crushed beneath the ship’s great mass. The parts that had not been buried were otherwise destroyed by the explosive decompression of the colony’s oxygen rich atmospheric dome.

  The colony was a total loss.

  Two days after the crash, the Alliance Corp of Engineers erected a small replacement dome with oxygen reclamation units installed over the entire path of destruction. They began piping in oxygen, thereby making salvaging easier for the retrieval teams. The task would be accomplished faster without having to wear bulky space suits.

  Three days had passed and the retrieval teams were in place, busily dismantling the remains of a once proud vessel. Captain Virginia Harmon watched from a small rise as her dream crumbled around her.

  This had been her ship, even if only for one day.

  The mighty Pegasus had died before its time.

  The specifics had not filtered down to her yet, but Captain Harmon knew she would be reassigned. It was inevitable. Her ship had crashed on the first day of her command, taking a fully functional colony along with it. Thoughts of never seeing a command chair again permeated her every waking moment because her career was ending before it had a chance to begin. At least that was what she expected, having prepared herself for the worst-case scenario.

  So lost in thought was she that she barely registered the others walking up behind her.

  “So that’s what you look like in a uniform,” a familiar, annoying voice called from behind her.

  Swiveling around to face Dr. James Silver, she smiled. Sure, he was damned irritating, but she had missed him. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you, Doctor,” she said.

  He shot her a lopsided grin that she could not help but melt under. Not that she would ever admit as much to him.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, extending a welcoming hand. The doctor shook it firmly. She presented the same hand to Ensign Bailey, who had accompanied the doctor on his visit. “Both of you,” she amended, truly to see them both.

  “So are we, Captain,” Silver said, sizing her up in her Alliance uniform. “You know, I think I liked your workout uniform better.”

  “Shut up, Doctor.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Shutting up.”

  “Captain?”

  Startled, she turned to see Lt. Allen r
unning up the rocky hillside toward them. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I think you’d all better come with me,” he said excitedly before heading back down the rough embankment. “This way!”

  The others shared a puzzled look, but followed the excited officer anyway.

  Ensign Bailey followed the captain and doctor into a small cavern off to the side of the wreckage of what had once been the Pegasus. Allen squeezed through the opening, leading the way. The others did the same.

  Stopping, Lt. Allen switched on his flashlight, sending a small shaft of light across a nearby wall. “We found this earlier this morning,” he said, pointing with his light. “It looks like this cavern had been sealed. The Pegasus opened it back up when it crashed.”

  The captain was intrigued. “What did you find?”

  “You’ll see. Just a little farther.”

  “I’m not a big fan of mysteries, Mr. Allen.”

  “Trust me, this one’s worth the wait, Captain.”

  They walked in darkness for a few feet before the small cavern opened into a larger one. A smooth floor stretched the radius of the room. In the center stood five obelisks, each varying in height from three to eight feet.

  Moving into the room, the group was struck speechless by such an amazing sight.

  “This is not a natural phenomenon,” Allen said. “I’d bet good money on it.”

  “What?” Doctor Silver started to say, but could not find the words. “Who did this?” he finally managed. “My God, this is incredible.”

  “Yes it is,” Bailey admitted. “Incredible.”

  Captain Harmon stared up at the obelisks before her. “These inscriptions are bold, almost… what’s the word… exquisite. Elegant.”

  “The rock is smooth,” Silver said. “And the design is... is…

  “Alien,” Harmon finished for him.

  No other word described it.

  “These were crafted by someone... something not at all human,” Harmon muttered. “Incredible.”

  Harmon turned to Allen, who also stood in awe. “Get Admiral McKeen on the line,” she ordered. “Tell him I have something that he needs to see right away.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Then, the lieutenant was gone, leaving the three of them with a mystery the likes of which no human had ever seen.

  Dr. Silver looked at the captain in awe. The scientist in him was already running calculations through his mind.

  “This changes everything doesn’t it?” he muttered, knowing the answer before he even asked.

  “Yes,” Captain Harmon answered.

  “Yes, I’m afraid it does.”

  The human adventure continues.

  About the Author

  From his secret lair in the wilds of Bethlehem, Georgia, Bobby Nash writes. A multitasker, Bobby is certain that he doesn’t suffer from ADD, but instead he... ooh, shiny.

  When he finally manages to put fingers to the keyboard, Bobby writes novels (Evil Ways; Deadly Games!), comic books (Fuzzy Bunnies From Hell; Demonslayer; Domino Lady vs. The Mummy; Lance Star: Sky Ranger “One Shot”), short prose (A Fistful of Legends; Full Throttle Space Tales Vol. 2: Space Sirens; Green Hornet Case Files; Tales of The Rook; Zombies vs. Robots), novellas (Lance Star: Sky Ranger; Ravenwood: Stepson of Mystery; Nightbeat; Blackthorn: Thunder on Mars), graphic novels (Yin Yang; I Am Googol: The Great Invasion; Bloody Olde England), screenplays (Zenoids: “Animal Crackers”, Starship Farragut: “Conspiracy of Innocence”), and even a little pulp fiction (Domino Lady; Secret Agent X; The Avenger; The Spider) just for good measure. And despite what his brother says, Bobby swears he is not addicted to buying DVD box sets and can quit anytime he wants to. Really.

  When not writing fiction, Bobby is usually talking about his books and writing fiction at conventions and writers conferences. Bobby is also a part-time extra in movies and television, is the co-host of the weekly Earth Station One podcast (www.esopodcast.com), and writes for the New Pulp (www.newpulpfiction.com) and All Pulp (http://allpulp.blogspot.com) news sites.

  Earthstrike Agenda is Bobby’s fourth published novel.

  Please visit Bobby at

  www.bobbynash.com

  www.facebook.com/AuthorBobbyNash

  www.twitter.com/bobbynash

  http://BEN-Books.blogspot.com

  Bobby-nash-news.blogspot.com

  Star Swarm

  The Chaos Wave Book One

  James Palmer

  Other Books by James Palmer

  Slow Djinn

  The Depths of Time

  Into the Weird

  Archer of Venus

  Star Swarm

  Ix Incursion

  As Contributor:

  Gideon Cain: Demon Hunter

  Blackthorn: Thunder on Mars

  Mars McCoy: Space Ranger vol. 2

  The Amazing Harry Houdini volume 1

  Legends of New Pulp Fiction

  As Editor:

  Monster Earth

  Betrayal on Monster Earth

  Strange Trails

  Star Swarm

  The Chaos Wave Book One

  By James Palmer

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously.

  STAR SWARM: THE CHAOS WAVE BOOK ONE

  Copyright © 2016 James Palmer

  All rights reserved, including the right o reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form, save for brief passages to be quoted in reviews.

  A Mechanoid Press Book

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my copy editor Joe Crowe and my small army of beta readers for helping me whip this book into shape.

  Dedication

  This one, as always, is for

  K and G

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  You insist that there is something a machine cannot do. If you tell me precisely what it is a machine cannot do, then I can always make a machine which will do just that.—John von Neumann

  1 Retirement Party

  Captain Henry Kuttner looked out over the remains of his retirement party and nursed his hangover.

  The small officer’s mess was just that, a mess. Overturned plastic cups lay scattered about next to plates containing stale, half-eaten cake the ship’s food synthesizers had barely gotten right. Kuttner fell heavily into a chair at the head of the long, transparent table and rubbed his temples, hoping to ease the invisible vice that was squeezing his skull. This party had been a bad idea. He hated parties. But how could he expect his new first officer, a snot-nosed desk-flier from Special Operations named Noah Hamilton, to know that? They barely knew each other.

  So Kuttner had smiled and nodded politely, even though he’d have rather been doing an EVA on the outer hull of the ship during a gamma ray burst than be at a party held in his honor.

  Hamilton. Why the brass had sent him a new first officer when they knew that in just a few months ship time they were going to scrap her? He was arrogant, brash, and had a head full of theory with no actual practice to back it up. There had also been some kind of trouble at his old post. In that, Hamilton typified the type of person who usually found their way into the Fighting 17th. Kuttner had spent most of his career whipping into shape officers and personnel with drinking and gambling problems, insubordination demerits, and all manner of personal failings into capable hands on the pride of the Fleet, the NS Onslaught, and it wasn’t easy. That didn’t stop the Admiralty from flinging every officer school reject they could find Kuttner’s way, however. It became so commonplace that there was even a saying: The Onslaught is the round hole square pegs go in.

  But Hamilton wasn’t quite as bad as all that. He was smart, and a natural born leader. He would have a promising career ahead of him once his stint on the Onslaught was done, and that would be over with shortly. They were already on their
way to the sunny world of Zephyr Covenant, where the Onslaught would be decommissioned and Kuttner handed his walking papers.

  Retirement. Kuttner didn’t like to say it; didn’t even like to think it. The word had the ominous ring of finality about it. Life as he knew it would soon be over. That scared him, and he wasn’t a man who scared easily.

  The smell of stale cake making him queasy, Kuttner heaved himself up out of the chair. It was time he got to work. This was still his ship, and he was still in command of it. There would be plenty of time for remembrance and regret later. He smoothed the front of his gray uniform and left the mess, just as two young stewards arrived to clean the place up. He nodded once to them as he sidled out.

  The Onslaught had been a fine ship in her day, and still was as far as Kuttner was concerned. One of only a few heavy class battle cruisers, the Onslaught was nicknamed the Flying Gun, so named for its large central rail gun that ran the entire length of the ship, powered by two huge electromagnets. The Onslaught had been key in the League’s efforts to defeat the Draconi. Now that the war was over, and the old ship no longer needed, she was being scrapped. Kuttner felt as if he was being thrown on the scrap heap with her.