Wanderer's Odyssey - Books 1 to 3: The Epic Space Opera Series Begins

by Simon Goodson

  “So they chose not to attack,” Dash said. “I don’t know why.”

  “I thought there might be stealth ships out there, closing in or following us. Maybe they were afraid of hitting them.”

  “Maybe, but why not just drop their stealth so the large ships could destroy us?”

  Jess had no answer. Nor did the others. Jess kept the Wanderer pulling random manoeuvres as they moved further and further from the fleet. All he knew for sure was that there must be a very good reason for the fleet not attacking, and that it didn’t bode well for the Wanderer.

  Chapter 27

  Greenseed Station

  “Incoming ship.”

  Marsh took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He’d resorted to medical drugs to keep himself sharp. He was awake, but twitchy and short tempered.

  He glanced around the Operations Room. Fewer seats had occupants than normal. Only critical functions were being covered. Twenty guards were posted throughout the room, ready to deal with any further mutiny. Marsh didn’t like having to deploy them, but he couldn’t risk anyone else following Alisha’s path. The station could only survive if everyone pulled together.

  Guards had been deployed at other key locations throughout the station. So far, the population of Greenseed had accepted their presence. Marsh hoped that continued. Some of those in the Operations Room hadn’t been so accepting. They had been removed and replaced by officers more willing to work for the good of the station.

  “Sir… the incoming ship,” Davies prompted Marsh.

  Marsh cursed inwardly. The drugs gave him the ability to focus sharply on one thing at a time but tended to make his mind wander. If he wasn't careful he ended up focusing sharply on something completely irrelevant. He checked the displays. The incoming ship was a standard bulk freighter. The Eclipse.

  “Comms, open a channel,” Marsh ordered.

  “Aye, Sir. Channel open.”

  “Eclipse, this is commander Marsh of Greenseed station. If you are here to collect food then please hold position and provide details of your spare cargo space. If not, please turn and leave immediately. Greenseed station and the space around it is fully embargoed. Failure to observe the exclusion will result in your destruction. I am transmitting details now.”

  The reply was full of static. “Greenseed… of the Eclipse. We… heavy damage. Power… to slow but limited… allow… leeway.”

  Marsh checked his readouts in more detail. The Eclipse’s hull was scored by long gashes and the thrusters were operating well below normal efficiency.

  Marsh was aware of everyone watching him. The Eclipse was starting to slow, but she was still going to cross into the exclusion zone Marsh had defined.

  He knew many of his staff were thinking he should give the damaged ship some leeway. That he should let it come to a stop then move back out of the exclusion zone. He wouldn’t do it. If he started to give way this time then there would always be another reason to flex the rules just that little bit further. Eventually that path would lead to Greenseed's destruction. Or worse.

  “Eclipse,” he transmitted. “I suggest you boost power to your engines. Entering the exclusion area will result in your immediate destruction. Greenseed out.”

  Marsh cut the communication channel. Almost immediately his comms officer spoke out.

  “Incoming transmission from the Eclipse, Commander.”

  “Ignore it,” replied Marsh. “They know what they have to do. If they stop in time then we will speak to them further.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  He didn’t sound happy. Marsh spotted several others preparing to speak up. Several of the guards shifted position, reminding the room of their presence. Suddenly everyone was busy with their own work again.

  Marsh studied his displays. The Eclipse poured more power into her thrusters but it wasn’t going to be enough. Then one of the two main thrusters flared and died. There was no hope of the ship stopping in time now, or anywhere near in time.

  Marsh gave it thirty seconds, then he checked the numbers. Even if the thruster was restarted there was no way the ship could stop in time. In one minute at most it would reach the exclusion zone.

  “Davies, prepare to fire.”

  “Aye, Sir. Locked on.”

  The Eclipse was still well out of range for the station’s weapons. Marsh had decided that wasn’t a safe enough margin and had ordered the creation of additional free-floating weapons which were deployed in a large defensive sphere surrounding the station.

  Marsh watched for a few more seconds, then realised waiting for the deadline was cruel. Those on the ship knew they would be killed when it crossed the boundary, unless he relented. He knew he wouldn’t.

  “Davies, destroy that ship.”

  “Sir? Now?”

  Marsh turned to stare at Davies. He’d thought Davies dependable. Was he wrong? Was Davies too starting to turn against him?

  No. Of course not. Davies was just confused. He obviously hadn’t expected the order.

  “They can’t stop or turn in time. Dragging this out is just cruel.”

  Understanding dawned on Davies face.

  “Aye, Sir,” he said. “Firing now.”

  Marsh watched impassively as the Eclipse was targeted by several different weapons platforms. Its shields held out for a few seconds before being overwhelmed.

  The ship didn’t die quickly. Someone had managed to start the engines shutting down so there wasn’t an explosive, and fast, end to the ship. Instead, the defensive weaponry slowly chewed its way through the ship’s superstructure.

  Marsh glanced around the room. Most of his staff had their heads down, appearing to work hard. A few stared at displays showing the dying ship. Marsh noted those. They were likely to cause problems in the future.

  The comms officer looked particularly pale. Punching in a few commands, Marsh confirmed his suspicion… the officer had kept a link open to the Eclipse. He’d been listening in as the ship died. Marsh thought for a moment, then made up his mind.

  “Comms, you don’t look well. Get someone to cover and go see the doctor.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  The man’s voice wavered. One of the other officers stepped up to relieve him and he clambered to his feet, swaying slightly as he started to walk. Marsh signalled to one of the guards.

  “Help him to the doctor. He doesn’t look like he’ll make it himself.”

  The guard saluted and moved to help the departing officer, steadying him and guiding him out of the room. As the door closed behind them, Marsh sent a quick message to the guards. The officer would be excluded from duty for medical reasons going forwards. He’d shown himself to be too weak. Marsh knew that only the strongest could keep the station safe now. He just wished there were more of them.

  * * *

  Clay sat in the cockpit of his fighter, waiting for the Purple Cloud to drop out of jump space. He was impatient to get going. The day before he’d been nursing the mother of all hangovers, now he was itching to be flying again.

  Not that he was over Leo’s death. Far from it. The bottle of whiskey had helped numb the pain for a while, but it wasn’t the answer. It didn’t matter that he’d done the right thing, that he’d do the same again. However he looked at it he was responsible for what happened to Leo.

  He’d spent the previous day feeling trapped. All he wanted to do was get out into the silence of space, to see the velvety darkness, to feel his fighter responding to every twitch of his hand. Maybe then he could start to come to terms with what had happened.

  Sitting in the cockpit waiting actually made things worse. That surprised him. He’d thought he was already at rock bottom. Apparently not. It didn’t help that he was crammed in awkwardly. At six-foot four he was much taller than the “ideal” pilot. He always felt the same while waiting to launch. The cockpit felt cramped. Things seemed to stick into him. He wouldn’t change it for the world. In fact, he’d received several offers to pilot larger ships with more space.
He always refused. Nothing could prise him away from flying fighters.

  He knew as soon as he launched all the negative feelings would evaporate. The cockpit would no longer feel constricting. Once he launched he would become the ship. All awareness of his body would fade away. That was what made him such a damn good pilot, and was why he still flew combat missions when he was several inches over the official maximum height for a fighter pilot. That and the continuing threats the Empire now faced. It wasn’t the time to turn down exceptional pilots, even if they had to be shoehorned into the cockpit.

  A flashing indicator drew Clay’s attention. They were leaving jump space! Moments later he received his launch clearance. Even as he registered it he was shoved back as his fighter launched. It hit space already travelling at a good speed.

  He lit off the thrusters and curved away from the Purple Cloud. The course was his own, chosen at random to make it harder for any enemy to intercept him during the launch. As he swung away he studied the tactical display. No immediate threats, but a significant fleet not too far away. It registered as Imperial but that meant nothing these days. Until the fleet was validated by the Commandant General, Clay would treat it as potentially hostile.

  Having confirmed the tactical situation, Clay took a few moments to revel in the feeling of flight. Being stuck inside the Purple Cloud for a day had weighed heavily on him. Now that weight had evaporated. He rolled the fighter several times, then swung it round in a sharp curve. Grinning fiercely, he hit the command to communicate with Papa-Five.

  “I love this, Leo. Don’t ever let them ground me again…”

  He stopped talking as the unavailable tone cut through his thoughts. Leo was gone, and it was his fault. Anger replaced the euphoria of flight. He hoped the nearby fleet turned out to be hostile. He wanted to fight. He wanted to kill. Maybe he wanted to die. He wasn’t sure.

  “All fighters, the nearby fleet has been certified clean by the commandant general. Please acknowledge.”

  Confirmations rang out from each of the fighters. When Clay’s turn came he knew his voice sounded hollow. He couldn’t help it. All he wanted was a chance to vent his pain on something.

  Warnings flashed across his displays as another ship punched its way out of jump space. For a moment Clay felt his heartbeat rise at the possibility of combat. Then he realised it was another Imperial ship, a frigate this time. He stayed alert but it was soon confirmed to be clean.

  Over the next few minutes three more ships arrived, each confirmed as clean. Clay found his attention slipping. His thoughts kept returning to Leo, to the fateful battle of two days before.

  Another ship dropped into real space, a corvette this time. Closer to the Purple Cloud than was ideal, but that often happened when ships assembled at a pre-agreed location.

  The corvette launched its own fighters, as each ship before had, and started to build speed. Clay waited for the confirmation this was yet another clean ship. It didn’t come. Instead, an urgent alert blasted over the comms.

  “New arrival is not responding to the commandant general. Treat as hostile and Tainted. Repeat, treat as hostile and Tainted.”

  Clay cursed, pushing his fighter up to full speed even as he turned towards the fight. The newcomer had launched more ships than normal, and they weren’t all standard fighters. He studied the display.

  It wasn’t good. The rogue corvette and its accompanying ships were far closer to the Purple Cloud than any of the other Imperial forces. Clay and the other pilots would need to fight a holding action. Clay grinned fiercely. This was exactly what he wanted, the chance to prove himself in battle. He accelerated towards the closest enemy fighters.

  Within seconds he was engaging the first two, both Lightnings. On paper they had Clay outnumbered. Clay hammered the first, overwhelming its shields and crippling the ship, while keeping his own ship skipping around enough to avoid almost all the incoming fire. There was only time to land a few shots on the second fighter before he streaked past it.

  The enemy corvette was accelerating towards the Purple Cloud, lashing out with all its weaponry. The two large ships had started almost facing each other. With no time to turn away, the Purple Cloud could only respond by accelerating towards the enemy.

  While the two corvettes had nowhere near the closing speed Clay had with the enemy fighters, it was still an awe-inspiring sight, and one Clay had rarely seen. He couldn’t shake the impression they would collide head on, even though he knew automated systems in both ships would prevent that from ever happening.

  Clay engaged another rogue fighter. He managed to pummel its shields but couldn’t do any real damage before they flashed past each other. This time he pulled his ship in a tight curve, swinging back and trying to finish the job. His target was swinging around too, apparently trying to get the drop on Clay. Clay grinned and tightened his curve, grunting as the acceleration jammed him into his seat.

  The sharper turn on Clay’s part meant both pilots succeeded. The two ships were once again approaching head on. The difference was Clay’s shields were almost at full strength, while his opponent’s had hardly recovered from the last attack. The opposing pilot had seen red and was making a rookie error, one Clay wasn’t going to let pass.

  Clay didn’t rely on his shields. He kept his fighter moving too, jinking around at random yet still keeping fire pouring into his enemy. It was a skill he’d developed over the years, and was one his opponent clearly didn’t possess.

  The incoming fighter’s shields collapsed while Clay’s were hardly touched. He kept the fire pouring in, but the enemy’s ship stubbornly refused to die. As the distance between them was almost gone, Clay launched a missile and peeled away. The missile alert sounded in his own cabin. His opponent had pulled the same trick.

  The same trick but against very different opponents. Clay was already pulling away and his shields were at nearly full strength. His own missile struck home, proving to be the final devastating blow. The enemy ship erupted in a massive explosion which reached its own missile, detonating it. Clay wasn’t quite clear of the explosion but it only weakened his shields a little. Slipping away in a controlled tumble he studied the situation and closed in on another rogue fighter.

  Things were going badly for the enemy. Many of their fighters were already destroyed, for the loss of only one from the Purple Cloud. The Imperial fleet was already closing in. Within a couple of minutes the enemy corvette would be taking fire from far heavier ships. They didn’t stand a chance.

  The corvette seemed to have reached the same conclusion. It was peeling away slightly, aiming to place the Purple Cloud between it and the incoming ships. It was a pointless exercise — the cover would be fleeting as the two ships rushed past each other. Clay started to suspect whoever was in charge on the enemy corvette had no idea of how to fight a battle.

  The screech of shots striking his shields dragged Clay’s attention back. He’d been thinking too much, his evasive manoeuvres had become mechanical. Predictable. He soon changed that, weaving away then engaging the fighter which had fired on him. It had lost interest in Clay already and was attacking Papa-Four head on. Its shields were low but the two fighters were about to scream past each other. It would survive.

  Or it would have if not for Clay. He poured fire into its rear, finishing the shields off then ripping through the thrusters. Papa-Four poured fire in from the front. The rogue fighter crumpled under the combined assault, coming apart in tiny parts rather than dying in an explosion.

  Clay whipped past the wreckage and checked his display. The fight had moved away. Swinging around he saw it would be twenty or thirty seconds before he could engage again. He took the chance to check on the Purple Cloud.

  “What the hell?”

  The enemy corvette was slipping past the Purple Cloud, as Clay had expected, but far closer than any automatics would allow. It couldn’t be more than twenty metres away in places. Clay could see the Purple Cloud’s manoeuvring thrusters desperately trying to
move it away, but the rogue ship actually seemed to be getting closer.

  “Bloody hell!”

  An intense blast of light half blinded Clay, even with his helmet immediately darkening to compensate. Moments later a second blast ripped out. Clay blinked away the after image, desperately trying to see. Trying to prove that his worst fears were wrong. Trying to make out the shape of the Purple Cloud.

  His eyes cleared but the chill in his heart just grew worse. The Purple Cloud was just an expanding sphere of twisted wreckage. So was the rogue corvette. It must have triggered an overload of its engines. That close together the Purple Cloud’s shields would have provided almost no protection from the blast.

  Clay stared a few more moments. Everyone he knew aboard the ship was dead, other than the handful of fighter pilots in space around him. The captain. The fighter maintenance crews. The female officers he’d sometimes flirted with. Everyone.

  He felt numb inside. How could this have happened? How could a corvette have been turned into a kamikaze attacker? Who would sacrifice such a massive ship in this way? The numbness was replaced by the chill of fear as he realised. The Taint. Somehow an entire corvette had been captured and turned to their purposes. And if it could happen to one Imperial ship, it could happen to any. Clay had known that already, but now he felt it, felt it deep in his bones.

  Clay stared at the large fleet which was still closing in. He couldn’t stay in the fighter forever. There was only food for a couple of days, and it had no jump capabilities. He would have to dock with one of the fleet, if they would let him. But could he trust any of them? And even if they were clear now, how long could it be before they too fell to the Taint?

  Chapter 28

  The Wanderer could reach jump space. Jess was surprised. The fleet behind them still remained stationary, and the many threats he and the others had discussed had failed to materialise. Now they were free to leave. It made no sense.