Spinward Fringe Broadcast 0: Origins
Page 1
Books by Randolph Lalonde
SPINWARD FRINGE SERIES
(In Chronological Order)
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 0: Origins
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 1: Resurrection
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 2: Awakening
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 3:Triton
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 4: Frontline
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 5: Fracture
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 6: Fragments
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 7: Framework
Coming Soon
The Sons Of Brightwill
Dark Arts
Visit www.randolphlalonde.com for more information.
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 0:
ORIGINS
A Collected Trilogy
Copyright © 2010 Randolph Lalonde
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 978-0-9865942-2-9
Originally published under the title The First Light Chronicles Freeground, The First Light Chronicles Limbo, The First Light Chronicles Starfree Port and The First Light Chronicles Omnibus, Copyright © 2008 Randolph Lalonde
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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If you would like to read more of Randolph Lalonde's work or contact the author please visit his website.
http://www.spinwardfringe.com
To all my online friends.
CONTENTS
Book 1: Freeground
Book 2: Limbo
Book 3: Starfree Port
11 Months and 11 Days Later:
An Afterword by Randolph Lalonde
Book 1
FREEGROUND
Randolph Lalonde
Prologue
The Last Mission
The odds weren't in our favour. They rarely were, but this time it was different. The stakes were higher. As I drifted through the silence of space in my Raze Starfighter I got a shiver. All systems were deactivated, including life support. Our wing was hiding behind thousands of meteors we had stirred up and directed to a nearby gas giant.
There were one hundred of us this time, all set up in fighters, bombers and shuttles, each assigned to a task group. In times like these everyone's performance was critical. We could make only the smallest sounds, radiate only the heat in our shielded vacuum suits, our only life support. We had to drift in the shadows of the meteor shower until the last possible instant.
People were watching, machines were scanning carefully for anything in the field that could be something other than rock. It was hard to stir up so much mass and send it close to the munitions station. If one of us were scanned because we were just a little out of place, all that work would be for nothing.
I looked towards our target through the cockpit and barely caught a glimpse. It was massive; two wheels surrounding a tall centrepiece hanging in orbit around a gargantuan blue and purple gas giant. The station looked small even though it was over a hundred kilometres across with fighter bays, drone launch tubes, dozens of point defence turrets and missile launchers. No one had ever gotten anywhere near it. Beyond it were small silhouettes against the sun. One of the All-Con Fleet Battle Groups had stopped in to rearm and would be there for several days. They suspected someone would attack the station.
The command and control display on my wrist, counting down the distance between us and the station, showed 43,477 kilometres and I knew that in less than four thousand we would know whether or not the station saw us as a threat. It would come quick, just a flash of light and it would all be over. Modern super nukes were like that, no harmful residual radiation, just a massive flash and over four hundred kilometres worth of matter would be gone.
I caught myself holding my breath and shook my head. Breathe normally, I thought, If we get a chance to see the nuke coming, we might have a chance to turn and run.
I checked my counter again. We had passed the safe range for a nuclear explosion, any closer and the base would risk shorting out its perimeter sensors with the electromagnetic pulse and taking damage from the shock wave. That brought us to our next challenge.
The perimeter sensors were finely tuned, and would scan all passing objects. Thankfully they wouldn't be able to penetrate our hulls and discover our body heat, but it would trace the outside of all the objects, creating profiles it would look up in the base's database.
We had attached all kinds of random objects to our hulls, making our ships look like floating trash or strangely shaped meteors made of compressed garbage jettisoned by some unknown interstellar vessel. If it worked we'd be past the perimeter sensors, but if someone didn't disguise their ship well enough or activated any kind of system we'd be finished. Once one of us was found out, the station would send a squadron of fighters to check it out or they'd just start shooting at the meteors and we'd get ground up in a blender of colliding rock and debris.
I looked back to the counter on my arm display and watched the kilometres tick away. We were closing on 20,000km and fast. The gravity of the massive gas giant below was tightening its grip. An All-Con Fleet destroyer was moving towards the station, and I found myself wondering if we'd have to use it for cover later.
Two years ago, when I joined up with this crew, I would have thought the strategy of using a kilometre long fully armed destroyer for cover was absolutely crazy. As I double checked my fighter's thermal silhouette I found myself acknowledging that it was just another checkpoint on the list we call 'they'll never see it coming'.
My command and control display beeped once quietly and I saw that we were a couple seconds away from our destination, the closest point we could reach under inertial drift. I watched and waited as it counted down to 937 kilometres. Just as it reached that magic number and started counting up again I covered my eyes and flipped a switch.
Hundreds of thermal charges planted in the meteors all around us went off with a blinding flash. They weren't hot or explosive enough to change the meteor shower's course, but it would create an intense visible wave of light for hundreds of kilometres that would make it impossible for the station to pick out our fighters until we were close, real close. They'd need to use visual scans, which wouldn't work well for their computers since our shapes were irregular. That would leave manual targeting until they figured out what we'd done to our ship profiles. “Let's go! Everyone knows what to do!” I yelled into my communicator.
“Yeeeehaw! Seven hundred kilometres and closing! Let's do some damage!” Oz replied.
“Cover the boarding shuttles, if we don't get our people inside this'll be for nothing.”
“Bombers on first run! Don't launch your shells until you can read their serial numbers!” Ronin shouted into his communicator. I could see him and his thirteen bombers heading off towards the fighter launch bays and drone tubes. There was some activity out there, but not as much as I would have expected. The station computers and personnel weren't sure what was happening yet.
My targeting scanner picked up the first group of fighters coming in from the far side of the station. I turned my ship towards them while floating past the outer ring of the station and started firing. The loaders for my three rail guns v
ibrated the entire craft as they propelled hundreds of rounds towards the group of fighters. “Marking alpha group.” I said as I selected them on my targeting computer. “They're after the bombers.”
“It's their funeral!” Ronin called out.
I watched the tactical screen as most of my shots went flying harmlessly through the enemy fighter formation. Then the enemy fighter group started to show some real damage, explosively decompressing and flying to pieces. I looked to where I knew Ronin's fighter group was moving towards the station to see that they were drifting backwards at speed while firing at the incoming fighter group. “Show off.”
“All right, let's drop our shells and close the doors,” Ronin ordered.
“Boarding shuttles under fire!” I heard Sunspot, the commander of shuttle two, call out.
“Could use your help here, whenever it's convenient. You know, drop by sometime,” Oz said over the sound of his turret firing. He was in command of the first shuttle and shouldn't have been in the gunner position, but telling him that was a waste of time.
“On our way,” I said. “All interceptors, keep those shuttles clear. Let's make a hole.” I spun my ship towards their flight path and hit the thrusters.
“More resistance than we expected, about thirty drones and a dozen fighters,” Zanger replied. His fighter group was the primary cover for the shuttles, and I could see that he had lost four out of fourteen.
I caught a glimpse of the fighter bay and saw that the shells Ronin's group dropped had exploded, causing massive damage. That left one launch bay and only a few drone tubes open for business. The station was already hamstrung. I brought his fighter group up on my display to see that they had only lost two and were skimming the hull of the station's inner ring to avoid weapons fire. I had to admit, he was always the better pilot. “Be careful out there Ronin. There's close then there's too close.”
“If what you see frightens you, then stop looking,” he replied.
“Old Chinese proverb?”
“No, crazy pilot's advice.”
My fighter finished coming around the middle ring of the station as the drones en route to intercept our shuttles came within firing range. I opened up with all three rail guns and scored disabling hits right away. My wing tore through them in no time and had several seconds to get ready before engaging the incoming enemy fighters.
The manned station defence fighters were a different story, they took three of my fighters out right away and I was under heavy fire. One shot struck the loading mechanism for my port rail gun and I had to shut it down.
We scattered, marked our targets and re-engaged. I sent my fighter hurtling towards the inner ring of the station and spun using manoeuvring thrusters so I faced three of the enemy defenders, all of which were after me. “You see this Oz?” I asked.
“I see it, firing right over your head.”
My path took me right below his shuttle and he laid down a barrage of cover fire with the rail turret mounted on the back of his ship. I opened fire as well and took out one while Oz took care of the other two. The station was starting to see through the fading distortion of the thermal bombs I had detonated earlier and their defensive batteries started firing. “Get close! We have to stay between the station batteries or this ends now.” I shouted as I watched one of my fighters take several pulse beam hits and fly apart in super heated pieces.
The boarding shuttles had reached the hull of the station and docked hard. “Shuttle two docked and popping the cork. I beat ya here, you owe me fifty Oz!” I heard Sunspot say over the comm.
“Shuttle one docked, popping the cork. Oh and Sunspot?”
“Yeah?”
“Be quiet or I'll tell everyone,” Oz replied.
“You wouldn't dare.”
“Oh, I would sugar, trust me.”
I didn't know what they were talking about, but judging from the tone it was some kind of inside joke. I shrugged and decided to ask later.
My attention was called back to the moment as a beam pulse nearly caught my port side. I was almost close enough to the inner ring to be out of the larger point defence weapons' lines of sight, but I was nowhere near safe. The hull of the inner ring loomed larger and larger until I was finally clear of the beam weapons' firing arc. My wing was down nine fighters, there were only five of us left, we had lost half of beta wing, and theta wing was down to only two. “How are you doing Ronin? Gamma wing holding together?”
“Just waiting for our shells to go off.”
I manoeuvred my fighter so I skimmed along the hull of the station, trying to stay as close as possible while firing at targets of opportunity. “Well? Is that second fighter bay out of commission?”
“They destroyed the shells before they hit. Heading into the bay, take the rest of the wing to the docking site, Mira. Cover them.”
“What the hell are you doing Ronin?”
“I'm setting my reactor to overload and ejecting into the fighter bay. What do you think I'm doing?”
“Bad idea, just get out of there and we'll try to deal with whatever they launch.”
“Good idea, bad idea, what does it matter when everyone already thinks you're crazy? Say hi to my sisters for me.” I could hear the sound of his ejection and tried to track him. I was on the other side of the station and there was too much interference between us for me to get a lock.
“Can anyone see him?”
“I did for a second, but then his fighter exploded, I don't think he made it,” Mira said. “That bay is a mess though. I don't think they'll be launching anything today.”
As I came around another section of hull, two wings of enemy fighters came into view. “Good, hurry up and get over here, we need help. How is it going boarding crew?”
“Never saw us coming,” Oz reported. I could hear weapons fire over the communicator.
“Oz is down, but his team got the explosives in place. Planting ours now.”
“It's a flesh wound. Just get your little behind back to the shuttle.”
I called his status up on my secondary display and saw that he and one other member of his team were the only ones left. They were both badly injured.
“Heading back to the shuttle now. We'll be out in a few seconds,” Sunspot said in a rush. I could hear her running.
One of the enemy fighters clipped my starboard side and sent me spinning. I barely had time to figure out where I was before I skipped off the hull of the station and into open space. I struggled with the controls and tried to stabilize the ship.
Just as I was starting to bring it under control, I saw the enemy fighter firing on me. I tried to get a manual missile lock as he whipped past my view. He scored another hit on my hull and flashed past me again. As he came around a third time I hit my secondary trigger and got a lock on him. I fired three missiles as fast as I could and worked to continue stabilizing my ship. “Come on, pick a direction god dammit!” I growled through clenched teeth to the controls.
I finally got my ship under control just in time to see the enemy fighter explode a hundred meters in front of me. “Collision warning!” my computer warned.
“Smart ass!” I replied as small pieces of my opponent's ship impacted against my hull. My cockpit started to decompress through a leak in the canopy and I was thankful that I wasn't relying on the fighter's environment. My vacuum suit could keep me breathing for days.
Cannon fire from the station streaked across my cockpit canopy. I turned my fighter away from the weapon bank and hit the thrusters. I kept moving back and forth laterally and vertically while I made my way out of the range of the station's weapons. “My fighter's full of holes, I'm on my way out.”
“Detonating our charges. The implosions should start in a few seconds. Do you think you can make it to the rendezvous?” Sunspot asked.
I checked the status of my engines. “I only have one ion array left, but I can make it,” the energy readings behind me spiked wildly, indicating that the explosives had gone off and the station
's core had begun a cascading decompression. “I love your handiwork Sunspot.”
“Why thank you, you're not so bad yourself.”
“Make your best speed to the rendezvous point so we can open a worm hole home. I think we've worn out our welcome.” Marauder said. He was the pilot and navigator for boarding shuttle two.
The station was no longer firing and I could see lights going out all around the rings through the rear view on my console. I made it to the jump point and counted what remained of our raid fleet. Four fighters, two bombers and the boarding shuttles. Seventy eight casualties out of a crew of one hundred. A flash of light appeared in front of the boarding shuttle. My computer marked the coordinates as the opening point of the wormhole home. We all made the jump. Shuttle one, which held the point open, jumped last.
The simulation ended. “Scenario complete, all win conditions met. Congratulations! Your Academy rank is increased to Brigadier General,” the computer said cheerily. “Entering social mode.”
Another screen came up on my display, replacing the fighter cockpit and field of stars. It listed all the participants of the scene we had just completed. “Too bad I'm not in the Academy.” I said quietly.
“None of us are. Think they'll ever find out who's setting new records in their hardest simulations?” Oz asked.
“I'm sure a few of us would be re-enlisted if they ever did. I wouldn't mind the chance to get in a real cockpit again,” Ronin added.
“Some of us are already enlisted, so we already have clearance for these scenarios. I'm sure my C.O. would still have some choice words for me for participating along with uncleared civilians though. With Marauder's hacks in place it'll be a while before we have to worry about it. Wish I could stay but I have a duty shift in ten minutes. See you all later. Bye Horus, I'll see you soon.” Sunspot said before she dropped her connection. Her accent always set her apart in simulations. Her speech had a light British manner, and I had to admit I never tired of listening to her.