Orion's Dawn: A Gritty Space Opera Adventure (Frontier's Reach Book 1)

by Robert C. James

  His head was spinning furiously from the drink and throbbing from the punch. Falling to the floor in his bathroom, he wrapped his hands around the toilet and deposited most of what he’d drunk at The Bended Elbow. Plus some of what he assumed was his dinner or lunch. He couldn’t quite remember. Why the hell do I do this to myself?

  Jason gently heaved himself up with the towel rail and stumbled over to the washbasin. He flicked the light on the lowest setting and looked into the mirror. His bearded and very bruised face stared back at him.

  He opened the medicine cabinet and pried out two aspirins from the near-empty container. He swallowed them and washed them down with a glass of water. After closing the medicine cabinet, he stared harder. A red flashing light reflected in the mirror. A message? For me?

  He made his way into the living area, almost tripping over… something. “Open message,” he instructed his computer, taking a seat on the sofa. The display activated, washing the living area in color. As his eyes adjusted, Jason was more than a little surprised.

  “Ortega?”

  Sure enough, there sitting on a chair in some office, was his old colleague from the UECS Raptor, David Ortega. “Hello, Jason. It’s been some time. I hope this message finds you well.”

  Jason chuckled. Yep, life’s great.

  “I have information that will interest you. I’m stationed at Outpost Watchtower. It’s a facility based in the Delta-Hera System, near Frontier’s Reach.”

  Jason knew of it but had never visited. Not that he’d wanted to. It was nothing but a star system of lifeless rocks on the edge of nowhere.

  “As well as being a port for ships out here in deep space, one of our missions is to send out probes into the Reach and perform general scans,” Ortega told him. “Well, one of those probes found something. Particles.” He paused before continuing. “Iota particles.”

  Jason let the words sink in. It took him back to his final days aboard the Raptor and that fateful moment when he’d lost his best friend. He wanted to vomit again.

  “The readings were identical to the ones we found in Nebula TPA-338 after the destruction of Christian’s pod.”

  The memory was seared into Jason’s mind.

  “We’ve sent this information to HQ. We asked if they would spare a ship to investigate, but they’ve decided it wasn’t worth the equipment or manpower. Same old story. We’re still feeling the brunt of rebuilding the fleet since the war. Or so the excuse goes.” Ortega leaned forward in his seat. “I’m sending you the coordinates where they were found and all other pertinent information I can give you. Do with it as you wish.”

  A little notification in the corner of the monitor advised Jason that a data packet downloaded into his computer.

  “I know this will be like opening an old wound, but maybe there’s closure to be had. For you. For all of us.” He gave Jason a casual salute. “Good luck.”

  Ortega’s face disappeared from the monitor. Jason opened the data packet and studied the coordinates. As Ortega had told him, it was inside Frontier’s Reach, a long way from Vesta III. A long way from anywhere. It’d be very costly to pay for transport, let alone finding anyone willing to take him.

  “Bring up my bank balance,” he instructed the computer.

  On the display, his balance came up at a little under five thousand credits. It surprised Jason that he had that much. But it was still way off what he needed. His mind wandered to all his possessions. The bond on his apartment. Some stuff he could pawn. And that was after paying Vic’s tab. He would never find the money to get out to the Reach.

  He dropped his head and pondered. Something came to him, though it wasn’t a pleasant thought. Am I that desperate?

  “Log me on to the Commonwealth Shipping Network.”

  The monitor displayed an access screen, and it logged him in with vocal recognition. Wow, it still works after all these years.

  He stared at the monitor, considering long and hard whether he wanted to do it. He sighed. “Locate Cargo Ship Argo.”

  An astronomical map of the region appeared. There was a blip in the top corner. It was the Argo, and it wasn’t too far away from the Vesta System.

  His memories of the Argo flashed before his eyes. He remembered the day he’d left. All the arguments.

  He reached down into the side of the sofa and found a small flask. He shook it. There was something inside. He pulled the cap and took a long swig. Whatever was in it, burned all the way down.

  “Open a commlink to the Argo.”

  God help me.

  Chapter 5

  April 18, 2213

  Herald Clinic - Massachusetts, Earth

  “What took you so long?”

  The hollow eyes of Lewis Keene stared up at Captain Nicolas Marquez as he entered his room. Putting on a brave face, Nicolas did his best not to look down at the thinned, gaunt body of his friend.

  “Well, I took a while to find your brew.” Nicolas pulled a bottle of McKinley Oak scotch from behind his back and handed it to Keene.

  He nearly jumped from his bed when he saw the bottle. “Put that away. If my wife or any of the docs see that I’ll be in serious trouble.”

  Nicolas took the bottle and hid it behind the plethora of flowers and get-well-soon cards on the windowsill. He turned and took a seat at Keene’s bedside. It had been the fifth time he’d visited his former Chief-of-the-Boat since the Vanguard came into port. Every time he felt like another part of the chief had slipped away.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “How do I look?” Keene questioned back.

  “Well, you, uh—”

  “I look like hell, don’t I?”

  While Nicolas could see how much he was struggling, he couldn’t fault the chief’s mind. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

  “Would you believe I feel about ten times worse?”

  Three months earlier, Chief Keene had been diagnosed with the dreaded Jung’s Disease, a horrific condition that eats away at every living part of the body from the DNA upwards. There was still no cure for it. Just therapy to stave it off. There were cases where some people could beat the disease for years.

  When the Vanguard had reached port two months earlier for its refit, Keene had begun his therapy. Though Nicolas didn’t want to admit it to himself, he didn’t think his friend would break any records. “Well, I hope you’re being nice to the doctors.”

  Keene snorted. “Kids, the lot of them. It feels like a kindergarten around here.”

  “I’m sure they’re having a ball caring for a crotchety old bastard like yourself.”

  “Just trying to keep them on their toes.” Keene chuckled. “How much longer am I going to have you visiting me anyway? Surely the Vanguard will be due to depart soon.”

  “The refit is on schedule. It won’t be too much longer.”

  “Good, you’re making the place look untidy.” Keene smirked. “And what of my replacement?”

  Nicolas straightened his back at the question. “I—”

  “You haven’t evaluated any of the candidates yet, have you?”

  “I haven’t had the time,” Nicolas lied.

  “You know I’m not coming back.” Keene wasn’t asking a question. “And at some point you’ll need to decide who’s taking my place.”

  Nicolas had served with Keene a long time. Replacing him was not something he wanted to think about, especially with his friend on his deathbed.

  “Commander Perera to Captain Marquez.”

  Nicolas activated his commband. “Go ahead, Commander.”

  “Sir, a message from HQ. You’re to report to Admiral Mueller immediately.”

  Nicolas dropped his head. “Very well. Inform HQ I’m on my way.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Keene whistled. “It’s not every day you get called to the principal’s office.”

  Admiral Mueller, the Admiral of Fleet Operations, came with a reputation, and not a very good one. “I’ll be sure to send you her love.” He stoo
d from his chair. “Don’t drink all that scotch on your own.”

  “I’ll save you a glass.”

  *

  CDF Headquarters - Miami, Earth

  Nicolas looked out of the cockpit at the view below. His transport pod swept low over the city of Miami and he took in all the colorful views of the art-deco buildings that continued to stand the test of time.

  He’d always found it amusing that the Commonwealth Defense Force based their headquarters in the warm climate of Florida. Officially it was due to the historical significance regarding the early space programs. But Nicolas knew better.

  The sun was out, the sky was blue, and the beaches were full of people taking a dip in the clear waters off the coast. Nicolas was envious. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone for a swim.

  The pilot of the transport pod flew over the water and toward Key Biscayne, the home of the CDF Headquarters. The vast complex appeared to rise out of the ocean, like something from an old Jules Verne tale.

  The pod closed and gently descended, touching down on its extended struts. Nicolas unbuckled himself from his seat.

  “Thank you, Ensign.” He gave a nod of appreciation to the pilot, and the rear airlock opened. He stepped onto the landing pad, and waiting for him was a man in a navy-blue admiral’s uniform.

  His eyes examined Nicolas as if he were a first-year cadet.

  Nicolas straightened his back and saluted. “Captain Nicolas Marquez, reporting as ordered.”

  A grin curled on the side of the admiral’s mouth, until it became a full-blown smile. “It’s good to see you, Nicolas.” They shook hands. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long, sir.” Nicolas had the honor of Admiral Gerald Foster being one of his instructors at the academy. He’d been the mentor to thousands who had gone through the system over the years.

  “So, working in the Fleet Operations office?” Nicolas smiled as the admiral ushered him toward the door. “Get sick of the academy, did we?”

  “Hardly.” They walked through the entrance of the building and strolled down the elaborate corridors of HQ. “I just wanted to be promoted to admiral before you so you couldn’t beat me to the top.”

  “Still time yet.”

  Foster chuckled. “I’ll keep an eye on my back.” They turned a corner and entered the command wing of the building. “How’s the Vanguard’s refit proceeding?”

  It’d been a whirlwind couple of months back on Earth. While the bulk of Nicolas’s ship’s refit had been the installation of the new Mark V FTL engine that could propel vessels at forty times the speed of light, there was now the upgrade of ancillary systems to deal with.

  “They installed the new computer network this morning. Everything is proceeding as scheduled.”

  “I read your FTL trials went off without a hitch.”

  “There was the odd kink that had to be ironed out, but mostly it was a smooth transition from the old Mark IV.”

  “Good. The admiral will be pleased to hear that.”

  Nicolas stared at his old teacher with concern. “Anything I should know before going in there?”

  Foster squirmed at the question, but he kept a straight face. “You’ll be informed once we’re inside.”

  Nicolas eyed him suspiciously all the way to Admiral Mueller’s office. Foster opened the door, and they both walked in. At the end of the room was a large granite desk in front of an oversized window that overlooked the grounds of HQ.

  On the left was a sitting area with a pair of sofas in front of a small library of old leather-bound books. And on the right a bank of several monitors with all kinds of information scrolling down them.

  From a side entrance, Admiral Janice Mueller entered. Nicolas stood at attention, and he watched her pass, sipping away at her mug of coffee. Taking little notice of him, she sat in the chair behind her desk. Nicolas had only met the admiral on a few occasions. He found her blunt. Cold. Not much of a conversationalist. And not exactly laissez-faire.

  Mueller put her mug on the table, and Nicolas saluted. “Captain Marquez, commanding officer of the Vanguard, reporting as ordered, Admiral.”

  She eyed him much like Foster had on the landing pad, yet this wasn’t a friendly ribbing by a mentor. He felt like he was being interrogated. Nicolas was never one to be intimidated, but Mueller had an aura about her that made him feel uncomfortable.

  She pointed at the chairs in front of her desk. “Take a seat.”

  Both Nicolas and Foster did so.

  Mueller put her hands together and rested them on the desk. “No doubt you’re wondering why you were summoned here today?”

  It was atypical to be called to the top office unless it was important. And as far as Nicolas knew, the Vanguard’s next mission had already been locked in. “You could say that, Admiral.”

  “You have new orders.” Mueller pressed a button on the panel in front of her. The windows behind her tinted to black, and a holographic image of a planet materialized above the trio. “What do you know about Orion V, Captain?”

  Nicolas looked up at the holographic representation of the dead ball of rock. He’d never been but at least knew of its existence. “Home to a decium ore mining operation. Near to Frontier’s Reach, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Indeed.” The hologram zoomed out to show a topographic representation of the United Earth Commonwealth, with Orion V near the very edge and Frontier’s Reach beyond.

  Mueller deactivated the hologram, and the windows returned to their normal shade. The light of the sun once again soaked the office in a beautiful warmth. She took a data tablet from her desk drawer. “The Vanguard will be taking a little trip.”

  Hardly a little trip. Even with their new engine it would take six months there and six months back. “What’s our assignment?” he asked.

  Mueller handed him the data tablet. “You will deliver a package to Orion V.”

  Since when did we become a courier service? “What are the contents of this package?”

  Mueller looked to Foster and then back at Nicolas. “The contents are classified.”

  Nicolas waited for her to elaborate, but she wasn’t forthcoming. “Surely as commanding officer of the Vanguard, I have clearance.”

  Her brows furrowed so much they almost knitted together. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

  He tried to put his words as diplomatically as possible. “You want me as the captain of my ship to deliver… something having no knowledge what it is?” He turned to Foster whose eyes told him to tread carefully. “It’s highly irregular, Admiral.”

  “Perhaps so, but there are allowances for it in the regulations. And under the delicate circumstances, it is necessary.”

  Nicolas was about to say something else, but Mueller cut him off. “You’ll also have a team of Marines accompanying you to ensure the security of the package.”

  Stompers. Great…

  “From what I’ve read of your reports, the Vanguard will be operational in seventy-two hours.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “You will depart in forty-eight hours. Is that attainable?”

  Nicolas knew it wasn’t a question. He nodded to the affirmative.

  “Oh, and one more thing.” Mueller handed him another data tablet. It was a personnel file. “Doctor Susan Tai of the Tokyo Institute of Advanced Sciences will join you on your voyage.”

  Nicolas froze. It felt like the face from the file was staring into his soul.

  “Admiral Foster will brief you on all the other relevant matters pertaining to the mission,” Mueller said finally.

  “Aye, Admiral,” Nicolas said, still unable to look away from the data tablet.

  Foster stood and led Nicolas out of the office. “It was touch and go for a while, but mostly you did pretty well in there,” his mentor said with a cheeky grin.

  “I know you couldn’t tell me any of the mission parameters before going in there. But to not tell me I’d have to take my ex-wife to Orion V. That was lo
w.”

  Nicolas stared back down at Susan’s face on his data tablet. This will be even harder than the war…

  Chapter 6

  April 20, 2213

  Odyssey Station

  As Jason moved among the hundreds of vessels on the station’s expansive hangar deck, it was then he realized what he was doing. He closed his eyes. What am I going to say?

  He stopped. Maybe I can turn back. He opened his eyes and breathed. No. He knew it was the only way he would get to Frontier’s Reach.

  He walked toward one of the many computer terminals and was nearly bowled over by a hover lifter operator, who thought he was some sort of pod racing champion.

  “Hey! Watch it!” Jason flipped him the bird and continued on his way. He put a hand on the console.

  “What can I do for you today, Jason Cassidy?” the polite, sultry voice of the computer said.

  “Where can I find the Cargo Ship Argo?”

  The terminal processed his request. “The Cargo Ship Argo can be found in Bay Seventeen. Section D.” A graphic map appeared on the display.

  “Thank you.” He put it to memory and set off.

  After what felt like an eternity, he reached Bay Seventeen and approached a pair of new L-Class Cargo Ships - the most modern and technologically advanced civilian cargo haulers money could buy. They were impressive. Then that was when he saw her. A thorn between a pair of roses.

  It was the E-Class Cargo Ship Argo. He looked up at the sixty-year-old vessel between the two freshly painted ships. Its hull was like a patchwork quilt with repaired plating as far as the eye could see. Time had done it little favors.

  There were random scorch marks, scratched hull plating, and some sections that had no paint on them whatsoever. He walked toward the stern where the rear access ramp was down. At least thirty large cylindrical containers were at the foot of the ramp, amongst several dozen smaller crates.