by Doug Farren
Peacekeeper
First Edition: October 2013
Second Edition: December 2013
By: Doug Farren
Copyright © 2013
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Peacekeeper — Galactic Alliance (Book 4)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover art design: Heather Zak
Published by: Doug Farren
Author Photo by: John Gilbey
Printed by: CreateSpace
Cover art Copyright © 2013 by Doug Farren
Note from the author: I strongly encourage you to read the first two books of the Galactic Alliance series (Translight and Chroniech) before reading this book. Although you will still enjoy Peacekeeper, it will have a greater impact if the books are read in order. Peacekeeper provides closure for several items left open in the first two books of the series and it fits time-wise between book 2 (Chroniech) and book 3 (Honor Thy Enemy) of the series.
Chapter 1
First Class Petty Officer Thomas Wilks pushed a pawn forward then leaned back and stretched. His opponent, Second Class Petty Officer Bill Owens, scowled at the configuration. The pawn now threatened a knight he desperately needed to complete his planned attack. Although he could easily eliminate the threat by taking the pawn with one of his own, Bill forced himself to analyze the move in more detail. Tom held a grandmaster rating and he wouldn’t have moved the pawn to its current position without good reason.
Bill looked up from the board hoping to see something in his opponent’s expression to give him a clue as to how to proceed. Tom looked back at him over the rim of the steaming cup of coffee he held with both hands and smiled. Frustrated, Bill took the pawn.
Tom carefully set his coffee down then took hold of a bishop that had been waiting patiently on the side. He wasn't interested in the knight. He needed the pawn out of the way and the knight was simply the leverage he used to make it happen. The pawn sacrifice freed up a diagonal allowing him to move the bishop into play.
Bill suddenly found one of his rooks under attack with no way to move it to a safe position. The loss of the rook would severely weaken the defense of his king, opening up a hole that Tom would no doubt relentlessly attack.
A tone from the ship's address system caused everyone in the room to put their conversation on hold so they could listen to the announcement. “Petty Officer Wilks, report to the Captain’s cabin.”
Tom looked up at the speaker grill as if it could tell him why the Captain wanted to see him. He scratched the back of his head, a habit of his that tended to annoy some of his shipmates, then looked at Bill and shrugged his shoulders.
Relieved, Bill extended his hand. “I guess we’ll have to call it a draw.”
Knowing full well the game would have been his after six more moves, Tom shook hands and replied, “A draw it is. Good game. You’re getting much better.”
Tom took a final swig from his coffee before heading out of the ship’s mess. As the Komodo Dragon’s senior communications technician, he was used to being paged to the bridge or Captain’s stateroom at all hours of the day or night.
A few minutes later, Tom touched the door chime for the Captain’s stateroom. “Enter!” the Captain’s voice floated from the speaker.
Captain Doug Scarboro was seated at the tiny desk that served as his shipboard office. The two men were close friends having served together on the Dragon for almost five years. Doug had been the ship’s executive officer until being promoted to its captain three years ago when Captain Stricklen retired at the end of the Chroniech war.
Tom started to come to attention but aborted the maneuver when Scarboro waved his hand and pointed to the only other chair in the room. “Have a seat Tom,” Scarboro said, sounding serious.
Have I done something wrong? Tom wondered as he sat down. Maybe I'm going to be promoted earlier than expected to Chief Petty Officer? Scarboro didn’t seem to be in any hurry to provide an answer to Tom’s unspoken questions. The Captain turned his attention to the computer screen and stared at it, his eyes crinkling in concentration.
Doug Scarboro was an interesting, hard to classify, individual. His lanky, 196 centimeter frame was topped by a wild tangle of deep red hair. He was best known for his jovial attitude and odd sense of humor yet he could instantly become dead serious when required. His promotion from XO to CO provided the crew with a near seamless transfer of command. Like his predecessor, he ran a tight ship and was well respected by the entire crew.
Scarboro finally looked up over the top of the computer screen, leaned back in his chair, and stared at Tom. Like the Captain, Tom had wavy hair. But that was where the similarities between the two ended. Standing 173 centimeters tall, his hair was brown with eyes to match. He was a quiet, unimposing figure who preferred to spend his free time reading, playing chess, and watching old science fiction movies.
“I’ve just received a rather unusual set of orders concerning you,” Scarboro began. “I’m afraid you’re going to be transferred.”
“Transferred! Where?” Tom asked. This was disturbing news. The Komodo Dragon had been his home for the past five years. Because of its advanced Hess stardrive and weapon systems, the Dragon was arguably the most unique and powerful ship in all of the Alliance. He had hoped to serve out the remainder of his enlistment there. He was also a well-liked and respected member of the crew with a select few of them being his closest friends.
“We'll be arriving at Moth in a little over three days,” Scarboro said, purposefully avoiding the question in order to stretch out the suspense. “I’ve been asked—no, make that ordered—to ensure that you are on the first shuttle to the surface. A car will be waiting for you at the starport to take you to your new assignment.”
Over the years, Tom had developed a keen sense of observation. It was one of the skills that helped him become a grandmaster chess player. Right now, he could tell Scarboro was trying very hard to hide his excitement. Whatever his new assignment was, it must be really good; maybe it came with a promotion as well. Tom decided to play along.
“I’m going to miss the Dragon, Sir,” he said. “I hope I haven’t done anything to warrant a transfer.”
“Are you kidding? You’re my most valuable communications technician. It’s going to take me months to find a suitable replacement.”
“Well Sir, if I’m needed here, maybe you could call in a few favors and have my transfer canceled,” Tom suggested.
The look on Scarboro’s face immediately gave Tom a wealth of information. “You probably knew these orders were coming, didn’t you?” Scarboro said, tapping the monitor with a finger.
Tom put his hands out palms up and replied, “Honestly Sir, I don’t know what those orders say. But based on your reaction I’d guess they’re pretty good.”
“Good?” Scarboro spun the monitor around to face Tom. “You’ve been accepted into the Peacekeeper academy!”
Tom's brain suddenly seemed to be stuck in a loop. Scarboro's last sentence kept repeating itself over and over, crowding out any chance of an intelligent response.
The Captain waited for several seconds before asking, "You did apply to the academy, didn't you?"
Tom had to force himself to think. After a moment, he replied, "I guess I did. I talked to Sorbith about it when he was here but that was
almost three years ago. With the war and everything going on at the time I thought he had forgotten about me."
"You're joking right?" Scarboro asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "He's a Peacekeeper," he continued. "His ship sees and hears everything he does. It’s simply not possible for him to forget much of anything. Even if he did, his ship would have reminded him."
"But I never had to take any tests," Tom protested. "I was never interviewed. I didn't even have to fill out an application. I've heard nothing from the Peacekeepers until now. This comes as a complete surprise."
Scarboro shook his head and pursed his lips together as if admonishing a student who couldn't grasp the subject. "You're in the military Mr. Wilks. The Peacekeepers have full access to your service record. They probably know more about you than you realize."
"I'm going to be a Peacekeeper," Tom quietly said, as if saying it would make it seem more real.
"Yes you are. Congratulations!" Scarboro said, standing up and extending his hand.
Tom quickly stood and with a firm grasp, shook the Captain's hand. "Thank you Sir. I wasn’t lying though when I said I'm going to miss the Dragon."
Scarboro's eyes scanned the room as if he had x-ray vision and could see into every compartment of the ship. "She is a good ship," he replied. Heading for the door, he continued, "I'm sure you've got a lot of packing to do and you'll want to have some time to say goodbye to the rest of the crew. I'm taking you off the watch rotation as of right now."
"Sir, I don't want—"
"No arguments," Scarboro interrupted. "Good luck at the academy. Now get out of here."
"Yes Sir! Thank you Sir!"
Word spread fast on the cruiser and Tom soon found himself being congratulated by everyone who passed him. By the end of the day, he had to take up residence in the ship’s mess hall because of the near constant stream of people stopping by his berthing compartment. By the end of the second day things had calmed down considerably allowing him to spend some time with his closest friends. They had known each other for years and saying goodbye was difficult. The rest of the crew seemed to understand and the group found itself isolated by a buffer zone of empty tables.
Although he really didn’t want to, Tom had to finally excuse himself from the table so he could pack. Bill Owens glanced at his timepiece and said, “Crap! I’m supposed to be on watch in less than an hour. I was going to see if you needed a hand but I had no idea it was so late.”
“I’ll help,” offered Mark Kline, another of Tom’s three roommates.
Gerry Walters stood up and stretched. “I’m your relief Bill, which means I need to hit the hay.”
Tom stood up and approached Gerry. She was a short, feisty com-tech who fit right in with the male members of the group. She and Tom had shared the same bed a few times but only for mutual enjoyment. Other than their very close friendship, there were no emotional ties between them. Gerry opened her arms and the two friends embraced. She had tears in her eyes as they separated.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said.
Tom looked at her then at the rest of his friends. His own eyes were tearing over as he replied, “I’m going to miss every one of you. You’re like family to me.”
Bill reached out and grabbed Tom’s hand. “I’m going to call in a favor and be on that shuttle with you tomorrow. See you then. I gotta run.”
Tom stared at Bill’s back for a moment then turned and looked at Pradyumna Dalal who was standing with his hands behind his back. Pradyumna worked in the supply department and was the last person admitted into Tom’s inner circle of friends. “The Dragon isn’t going to be the same without you,” Pradyumna said, as they shook hands.
“Hey!” Tom exclaimed. “I’m not that important. I’m just a com-tech.”
“But you’re important to us,” Mark said. “Come on, let’s get you packed up.”
Chapter 2
A series of three, short beeps accompanied by a blinking blue light was an expected, but unwelcome interruption. Captain Sharon McClusky set the pad down then reached over and touched a button on the com-panel. "McClusky."
"We are approaching the Shaular star system," a male voice informed her.
"Take us in slow Mr. Stevens," she replied. "I'll be there in a couple minutes."
The Captain looked down at the pearl-white, long-haired cat curled in her lap and gently scratched its neck. The cat responded by stretching its hind legs as it began purring; its eyes remained closed.
"Time for me to go," McClusky whispered. Gently placing her hand under its belly, she scooped it up as she got out of the chair. The cat opened its eyes and meowed in protest. The Captain turned 180 degrees and deposited the still-purring animal on the warm chair cushion and watched as it curled itself into a compact ball and went back to sleep.
The cat had cost her almost three month's wages but she considered the money well spent. There was nothing quite like a warm, purring feline lying on your lap while you read an engrossing novel to help erase the tensions of a difficult day. But live pets were not allowed on military warships. Life-like robotic pets, however, were and the model she had purchased was such a good replica she often forgot it wasn’t actually alive.
Two minutes later, McClusky's 86-kilogram, 180-centimeter frame was seated in the command chair of the ES Asimov. The light cruiser she commanded was on a mission for the Peacekeepers. McClusky entered a command into her console causing the large monitor in front of her to display their current position in space.
The helm was closely monitoring his console as they entered the system. Shaular orbited a powerful pulsar making entry into the system a tricky maneuver. The constantly changing electromagnetic fields along with the space-twisting presence of the pulsar played havoc with navigational systems, sensors, and propulsion systems.
The Asimov slowed as it penetrated farther into the system. "Approaching our destination," Petty Officer Stevens announced, without taking his eyes off his console.
"Very well. Drop us to normal space," McClusky ordered.
The helm made a short announcement to warn the crew then carried out the order. As soon as the ship was in normal space, McClusky said, "Tactical, scan for debris. According to the computer, this is where we should find the remains of the AOH ships."
"Scanning," the tactical station replied.
Shaular had once been the home of a mysterious race known as the Hess. The cloak of mystery surrounding them broke several years ago when the Hess contacted the Komodo Dragon following the discovery of a time-stasis device containing five members of an ancient race known as the Kyrra. When the Dragon arrived at Shaular, they learned the Hess was actually a sentient machine built by the Kyrra. Shortly after upgrading the Dragon for the long trip to return the Kyrra to their people, the Hess was destroyed by the Chroniech.
Thinking the Komodo Dragon had discovered an advanced technology that could be used to create weapons of inconceivable power, a group of ships from the Army of Humanity arrived at Shaular shortly after the Dragon and tried to take possession of the stasis device by force. A battle ensued during which five of the AOH ships were destroyed. The appearance of these ships, however, was a matter of concern for the Alliance.
The AOH was a fanatical militant organization that arose on Earth immediately after Earth made contact with the Consortium, the predecessor of the Alliance. They were violently against humans having any contact with non-humans, claiming the purity of humanity was being destroyed. Shortly after the end of the Tholtaran war over 50 years ago, the followers purchased several colony ships and headed into space to start an independent colony. Nothing was heard of them for nearly 15 years until a Shandarian mining scout came across them while mapping an unexplored system.
Although populated by Terrans, Safa (the Arabic word for Purity used to name the planet) remained an independent world on the very fringe of Alliance space. They allowed no visitors from off-world and were considered harmless until the flee
t of 13 heavily armed warships appeared at Shaular. Following the battle, the remaining eight ships vanished without a trace.
The Asimov's mission was to comb through what was left of the AOH ships in an attempt to discover who had supplied the weapon systems used to upgrade the outdated LA-class destroyers. The destroyers had been de-weaponized and sold to a Purist mining company for use as ore haulers. Their reappearance as fully functional warships along with several other vessels of new design had been a complete surprise.
"Picking up a large amount of debris bearing 026 mark 4, distance 93,000 kilometers," the tactical station announced, as the main display simultaneously indicated the position.
"Can you identify what type of ship the debris originated from Mr. Sutton?" McClusky asked.
"No Sir. But the location is consistent with the data from the Komodo Dragon."
Although the Captain was a woman, she preferred to be addressed as Sir by her crew. She had been born on a colony world where males tended to dominate all aspects of life—an oddity in modern-day gender-neutral society. Determined to make a life of her own, she had joined the space force and moved quickly up the ranks. She was known to be a very firm yet fair captain.
McClusky looked at the stream of data scrolling by on her tactical monitor and said, "Helm, come to course 026 mark 4 and match our velocity with that of the debris.”
“Aye Sir.”
“Not much left of it, is there?” McClusky asked, a few minutes later.
Chief Petty Officer Sutton had been entering commands into his console in an attempt to tease some useful information out of the wreckage. “We should be picking up several large pieces,” he said. “But there’s nothing bigger than a baseball out there.”
“You’re sure we’re in the right area?” the Captain asked.
