Preface
Commodore Sir Martin Worthington rested comfortably in the perfectly maintained captain’s chair of the Pegasus, flagship of the Colonial Fleet Service. He watched the giant view screen in front of him, the planet of Vega II slowly growing from a tiny dot in the distance. Occasionally, Commodore Worthington shifted his eyes down to the display panel near his right hand. But each time the other twelve warships showed as little yellow dots in perfect formation with his own perfectly managed ship.
“We will be in range of Vega II in three hours,” his executive officer said standing at ridged attention. “Sensors will go off line in a moment, as we pass the Vega VI binary cluster. We should be past the interference in forty minutes.” As soon as the officer finished speaking the view screen flickered for a few seconds then went dark.
“Very good,” Commodore Worthington said. He looked to the man, then to the other Fleet personnel at their posts around the bridge and smiled. Each one held themselves with a ridged posture. The men, the women… standing, seated or walking, all attended their duties as rigidly as possible. The crew on his flagship set an example for the entire CFS. Because of that, he demanded discipline and perfection from both crew and ship.
The Commodore stood and patrolled his bridge, pulling his white dress gloves tighter upon his hands. He always wore them outside his cabin, and new Fleet personnel often thought they were simply an affectation. But they soon realized that those white gloves had a greater duty than just to impress.
Each surface Commodore Worthington passed, received a swipe from his finger. Banisters, seat-backs, consoles, even maintenance panels were checked thoroughly. After each inspection his finger always came back perfectly clean. As he knew it would. After several minutes of inspecting random objects on the bridge, he returned to his seat and considered his current situation.
Commodore Worthington had begun his distinguished twenty-nine-year military career in the Colonial Protective Force, the infantry arm of the Empire’s colony forces. A war against an alien race called the Ka’Rathi made advancement easy for any ambitious warrior. Within five years he’d made officer and was the personal adjutant of a high ranking general. But infantry life quickly lost its luster, especially since the administrative section of the CPF was based in the excessively hot City of Dubai.
With a transfer to Fleet, Commodore Sir Martin Worthington earned his captaincy in just under fifteen years, and believed he was on the fast-track to the admiralty. But the conquest and enslavement of the Ka’Rathi had come far too quickly. Without an enemy, his promotion prospects dwindled drastically. For years, Commodore Worthington floated in the limbo of a Commodore’s rank, his promotion just out of reach.
He’d almost resigned himself to retirement as a Commodore when Fleet headquarters in Shanghai intercepted a distress call from the fringes of colonial space. A Ka’Rathi insurrection was threatening the sanctity of the human empire. Ten thousand of the blasted bugs were said to be breaking out from their reservations and attacking the population of the imperial military colony on Vega II.
There had been numerous Ka’Rathi uprisings since the conquest. Small annoyances, nothing more. But this was the largest uprising yet and Fleet Command decided a show of force was necessary. The legendary Commodore Worthington and his equally legendary flagship, the Pegasus, were assigned the task of putting the annoying beasts down permanently.
Commodore Worthington built an armada of 13 of the Empire’s most advanced warships, of which included four troop carriers that bore over fifty thousand CPF soldiers. There was no way a handful of rebel ships and 10,000 undisciplined yahoos could withstand his overwhelming force. The thought of an easy victory made him smile. It would secure his promotion to admiral.
During the forty minutes it took for his armada to pass the anomaly, Commodore Worthington ran the Pegasus crew in combat drills seven times and demanded five detailed status reports from the rest of the armada. When the ship’s sensors and view screen finally did come back online, excitement had stretched Commodore Worthington’s perfectly controlled façade paper thin. In just a short time he would begin the assault against the enemy that would finally earn him his deserved promotion.
Commodore Worthington took a moment to close his eyes and compose himself before the excitement of the moment could shatter his mock self-possession. When he opened them again, his crew were going about their duties like the perfect little robots he trained them to be.
“Now that we are past the interference from the binary stars,” Commodore Worthington said to his sensor operator, “can we get a reading on the situation down on Vega?”
The officer took so long to reply that Commodore Worthington turned toward her and was about to double check that she heard when she finally spoke.
“I… I’m reading… devastation.”
Commodore Worthington couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly. Even 10,000 Ka’Rathi strays, couldn’t have devastated a heavily armed colony by now.
“Lieutenant, you must be mistaken. If you’re incapable of performing your duties…”
“Commodore,” she interrupted drawing a dark look across Commodore Worthington’s face, “I’m reading this correctly. Please let me show you.” She gestured toward the view screen.
Commodore Worthington nodded and she transferred her sensor feed to the main view screen. There in front of everyone were several sensor displays and images, all showing the total destruction of the Vega II colony and all seven Ka’Rathi reservations. What should have been a thriving colony was now just a jumbled collection of craters. The few manmade structures that remained were fire gutted ruins, and the atmosphere was so thick with dust and radiation that the planet’s ecosystem would soon collapse. Most damning of all was the fact that the sensors detected no advanced life signs on the planet, either human or Ka’Rathi. All signs indicated an orbital bombardment, but sensors showed no fleet in the vicinity.
“That can’t be right,” Commodore Worthington said. “You mustn’t have the sensors calibrated correctly. Are they running a simulation?” Strain was starting to show in the corners of his eyes.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m sure they are correct. All I read in the vicinity of Vega is a small Ka’Rathi ship that’s just started emitting a neutrino pulse in our direction.”
“Is that pulse any threat to our fleet?” Commodore Worthington asked as he studied the sensor display, but the answer was obvious to everyone.
“No sir. Neutrinos are too passive to affect us or our ships in any way.”
“Put the ship onscreen.” The screen changed to show a miniscule Ka’Rathi scout ship that hovered above the planet’s southern pole. He turned to regard both his sensor and science officers. “Can either of you tell what they are doing with the pulse?”
Science Officer Frei stepped forward and stood at perfect attention when he addressed Commodore Worthington. “Neutrinos have so little reaction with any matter that they are useless as either a scanning tool or weapon. All the pulses will do is pass straight through us and even the binary stars in the nebula behind us.”
“Could those pulses affect the binary stars in any way?”
“Negative, sir. In fact, those stars emit their own neutrinos in a far greater intensity.”
Commodore Worthington sat back and wondered what the blazes was going on. He rushed out to answer a distress call about a hoard of rampaging Ka’Rathi only to find out there are no Ka’Rathi. And a colony that should have been able to easily hold out until help arrives is completely decimated from an orbital bombardment. Most of all, he assembled the most impressive fleet humanity had ever collected, and there was nothing here but a tiny, underpowered scout ship. A scout ship that was firing a completely harmless
neutrino pulse in his direction.
“Commander Frei,” Commodore Worthington said while still facing the view screen, “Please give me a two-dimensional layout of the Vega system as it is now.”
Moments later a diagram appeared showing his armada as thirteen small dots clustered at the center of the view screen. Further to the left of those dots was the nebula that contained the binary stars. Vega II was a large green circle on the far-right side of the view screen. As Commodore Worthington studied the diagram, a thought occurred.
“Can you show the direction of the neutron pulses?” A second later a flashing white line appeared, leading from Vega through his fleet. And through the binary stars.
“What if we are not the target for the neutrino pulse,” Commodore Worthington asked. “What if it’s the stars? Or even something in the stars?”
Commander Frei shook his head respectfully. “Any ship in that anomaly would be likewise affected as we were. They would be completely blind. One could calculate a safe path in or through, but should they decide to remain for a random amount of time, they run the risk of flying into one of those stars when they try to leave.”
“Could ships inside receive the neutrino pulses?”
“There are internal sensors that would detect them, but they would be indistinguishable from the flood of neutrinos that the surrounding stars emit.”
Commodore Worthington’s apprehension had begun to fade, until his sensor officer spoke.
“I think I could do it.”
Every head swiveled toward the young woman. For a moment, no one spoke. Then, she stood up from her station and faced the Commodore.
“The internal sensors could distinguish between the direction and intensity of neutrino emissions. All they would have to do is identify the narrow-band source…”
“And use it to track the way out like a trail of breadcrumbs!” Commodore Worthington interrupted with a growl. “Show me those stars, NOW!”
An image of twin stars spiraling around a cloud of stellar gasses flashed upon the screen. The gasses themselves were rotating, being drawn into a vortex by its twin swirling stars, like a spoon stirring water.
Already, dark and unnatural shapes had appeared in front of the cloud, and with each passing second more and more shapes melted out of the stellar veil. Ka’Rathi ships flew out of the gases like a cloud of fruit flies bursting from a disturbed plate of decaying veg. Dozens of Ka’Rathi ships were quickly becoming hundreds.
“How long until they’re in firing range?” Commodore Worthington asked the sensor officer.
“Two minutes,” she said, a slight waver to her voice.
“Communications?”
“Long range communications are being jammed,” the communications officer answered. “No help is coming.”
Commander Frei looked at one of the display panels near him. “If we run the engines at max, it will take five minutes to reach safe distance to activate the jump engines.”
“I’m familiar with jump physics, thank you,” Commodore Worthington snapped at him. “Have the ships form into a spherical defensive formation and begin charging their jump engines. The transport ship Poseidon has the least armor and weaponry of any ship in the armada. They are to remain in the center of the defensive formation and support in whatever way they can. All ships are to evacuate any and all unnecessary personnel to the Poseidon. As soon as we reach a safe distance to activate jump engines, all ships are to jump immediately. Don’t wait for orders. They leave immediately.”
“Their destination?” the communications officer asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the swarm of Ka’Rathi warships almost within firing range.”
“Sol system. The Empire will need to know what happened here.”
Chapter 1:
Two years later…
Connor tore through his footlocker in his hunt for his most prized possession. Socks, trousers, and shoes flew through the room in his desperate quest for his ultimate treasure.
“I hope you didn’t lose it,” Charisma said. She chewed her thumbnail as her eyes darted worriedly about the tiny cell that served as his quarters. Connor stole a few seconds from his hunt to stare daggers at the woman.
His collection was pre-apocalyptic. Relatively few things survived the apocalypse, and luxury items like the treasures he’d spent his life collecting were as rare as leprechauns. As if he would lose his life’s work.
Finally, after what felt like hours of gut-wrenching searching Connor found the polycarbonate memory rod. “Ha!” he screamed as he held the small transparent rod up in triumph. It glowed a deep amber in the radiant light of his cell.
A relieved gasp exploded from Charisma at sight of the rod. “I was starting to worry you lost it!”
A dark look flowed over Connor’s face. “Lost? I wouldn’t lose my life’s work.”
Charisma looked at the floor and rubbed her arm. “Sorry,” she said quietly.
“N… no,” he stammered. “You don’t have to be sorry. I just…” Connor could feel his face heating and swallowed hard. “I just wouldn’t ever lose this.”
Her face broke into a wide grin. “It’s ok. You want to watch it here or in my cubicle?”
One look at the infinitesimal view screen on the wall answered that question. “Your place. It’s too small here.” Both the screen and the room, he thought.
Connor couldn’t help stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye at Charisma’s gently bouncing breasts as they hurried out of his tiny cell. He wasn’t sure if she was as into him as he was into her, but he hoped dearly she was. Most of the compound’s women barely looked at him, much less chose to spend time with him.
She’d come straight off work, given the state of the coveralls she wore tied around her waist. Her t-shirt was almost entirely yellowed from sweat stains, and her hair hung in dirty streamers from her head. With a plain face and something of a pear-shape, Charisma was overlooked by most of the other men. But she was perfect for him, the four-eyed lanky former history professor.
Connor hadn’t realized his glance had turned into a sideways stare until he slammed into the proverbial immovable object. He ricocheted back to stare at one of the compounds larger Colonial Protective Force soldiers.
“Careful, Professor,” the large man said with a sneer.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” said Connor and stood out of the man’s way. Cursing his stupidity, he glowered at the soldier as the man strolled off with a stupid grin on his face.
Life in New Kathmandu was like being back in high school. His days were spent scrubbing the waste reclamation tunnels and getting kicked around like an abused dog. He didn’t know how to fight, maintain critical systems, or heal the wounded. Without being able to contribute in some way, he would always be nothing to them. He was just the worthless bookworm that people remembered only to insult. It was a good day when both the military and civilian population completely ignored him.
Unfortunately, most days were not good days and he was tired of being the ant under someone’s boot. He was tired of being the speck that everyone overlooked. Connor used to be the dean of the history department at New London University. While both his budget and time were limited at the University, he still found opportunities to search Earth and its core colonies for treasure dating before the apocalypse. Most importantly, he was able to contribute in a meaningful way.
Connor suddenly remembered he was standing next to one of the few people who did treat him with respect. He looked over at Charisma in embarrassment. She just smirked at him in her cute little quirky way.
“Are you ok?” she asked with a caring smile.
“Yeah,” Connor stammered. “Just in too much of a hurry.”
“Well, be careful. I don’t want you injured.”
Connor’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t know you cared.”
“Of course. You’re my only access to classic vids.”
This time Connor’s heart felt like it actually stopped. He knew she was teasi
ng, but he’d gotten his hopes up for something a little more serious. He swallowed his pride, pasted a moronic grin onto his face, and continued rushing down the corridor next to her.
His ears burned through the remaining trek across the underground compound and, by the time Charisma’s quarters decided to show themselves, he had worked himself into a distinctly foul mood. He stood outside her door, number C-1012 painted on the front, as he waited for her to disable the lock.
Every door in this underground terraforming compound looked the same, all steel and gray and supremely bland. If it weren’t for the floor letter and room number, no one could find anything in this blasted labyrinth. Fourteen floors with at least several hundred doors per floor, even a Sherpa could get lost down here.
Charisma’s door hissed open, to show a rather spacious room, at least compared to Connor’s. The room measured a luxurious ten feet by twelve feet, almost twice the size of his. Her view screen measured a full thirteen inches diagonally, easily surpassing the six-inch screen of his quarters.
She picked through a pile of clothing that rested in a corner near her bunk. “We have all night since my roommate is working tonight, so I’m going to jump into the shower. Get some snacks from the Com, will you, Professor?” Charisma smiled impishly at him on her way out of her quarters.
“Uh, yeah. No problem.”
He tried to relax as he watched the woman scoot out the door. That ‘professor’ comment was not helping to improve his mood. He hated it when people called him professor. Most of them used it to mock him. Charisma used it teasingly, but it still reminded Connor that he didn’t belong.
It took only minutes for Connor to reach the commissary on the floor above. A bland scent greeted him at the door of the bustling cavernous room. Nutri-paste was the only thing in this compound more boring than the gray of the walls.
The Commissary, a combination of a massive cafeteria and even larger market, was packed with off duty miners, maintenance personnel, engineers, soldiers, and Fleet personnel. Connor weaved his way through the islands of packed tables and wandering patrons to the counter at the back. He was pleasantly surprise to find that one of the people behind the food counter was his friend Thomas.
Echoes of Avarice Page 1
