Coming Home (Free Fleet Book 2)

by Michael Chatfield

  The man that was the leader pulled off his helmet, flicking his emo slice to one side, revealing blood red eyes which seemed to pierce Connolly's skull as they flicked over him.

  “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled, subsonics shaking Connolly’s very bones as he was reminded of his non-commissioned officer yelling at him in basic training and putting the fear of god and the Marines into him.

  Silence descended as the man looked over them, studying them as much as they studied him. He looked human, but for the eyes and the fact he was on a Planetary Defense Force ship, Connolly wasn't sure. Maybe he's one of the recruits? He thought with shame as he wondered how much the PDF had changed this kid to make him like that.

  “My name is Commander Salchar, yes, the gamer. Now, Marines, I welcome you to the dreadnought Resilient, my flagship and, for the time being, your home. I can’t really explain much, but for your own safety you will be detained until we can have an actual talk and you can be returned to Earth. Now, the first thing you need to know is we aren’t Syndicate forces, those fuckers that are masquerading as some defense force. Many of the Commandos around you are human and will react just the same way you would if you got your gear spit on, especially because they’ve got to clean it off after our little meet and greet,” Salchar growled.

  “Commandos,” he said, no mistaking the command in his voice. Humans, Sarenmenti, and Kuruvians took off their helmets. More than one of his Marines yelled at the Sarenmenti and Kuruvians, while pleading with the humans to help them.

  Salchar slammed his foot down and as some kept on talking he talked over them. “You will be put into holding. Act like an asshole, and we'll be assholes. So don't be a jerk. I have a battle to win and our world to save, so don't make me have to look in on you more than I have to.” His voice was like iron and Connolly doubted anyone would want to cause a ruckus after the man's speech.

  A group fell in around him as he walked away and the Mechas in the room moved with quick, precise movements.

  Unarmored people and aliens ran around, securing Connolly's assault shuttles to the deck, going inside quickly before turning to other tasks in the shuttle bay, or disappearing through one of the hatches leading into the actual ship. Commandos picked up Connolly as if he was a child, attaching his bound hands to the harness with something similar to duct tape. One by one, his men were similarly strapped into the shuttles harnesses, a Commando walking to the front with more than a little verbal abuse from Connolly's men. It took off its helmet, showing a woman underneath. Presently shutting everyone up for a few seconds.

  “My name is company commander Keiko. Commander Salchar has made it clear that no harm is to come to you if at all possible. So I will make you a promise: do as you’re told or I’ll stun you. Keep doing it and I’ll shoot you. This is space. I don’t have time to hold your hands, and we’re already losing a squad to looking after your asses, a squad that could be used to keep my friends alive.”

  There was no missing the truth or sincerity of her words.

  “Lady, I was fighting before you where born.”

  Keiko's smile was anything but kind as she stared at the commenter. “Fighting before I was born? On Earth? Where you have atmosphere and a single round hitting you does not mean explosive decompression? Where you have people trained to keep you alive? Some place you can go back to that’s safe? Weapons that kill at hundreds of meters, not thousands of kilometers? Fighting people with less advanced weaponry than your own, not fighting in your own skin sometimes against two ton Mechas that can kill you with a back swipe as if you where a fly or paste you across the room with a single round?” She advanced on the commentator as she talked.

  “Fighting in environments you know about before you ever step into them? Places that don’t have twelve times your number trying to kill you from every direction and weapon emplacements built into the walls that could destroy a corvette? You might’ve been play acting before I was born, but you’ve never fought like I do. The Armored Marine Commandos may have been made in a year, but it is the hardest fucking unit you will ever find this side of then galaxy, forged in a hell you couldn’t imagine and haven’t even begun to understand.” Growls rose from the other Commandos waiting in the back of the shuttle.

  “And the part about getting pasted to the wall in a swipe, don’t test my people or you’ll quickly find out the truth.” She walked out of the shuttle without a backwards glance as some people filed off with her and others studied the marines and their pilots with bored but alert interest. Then the shuttle sealed up and as it was buffeted Connolly could hear the movement of hundreds of Mechas outside the shuttle, and yelling.

  ****

  After my little talk with the Marines boarding team I rushed to the bridge. Never a moments rest being Salchar, I thought as I waited for the blast doors slow opening sequence.

  “The weapons systems for the Syndicate ships are down. Henry is requesting support,” Rick said as I connected to him. I changed to the bridge's speaker.

  “Helm, if we use the Earth or the moon, can we give those shuttles better velocity?”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Okay, get those shuttles loaded and prepped. Nav, give me that route info and make sure the fleet is ready. Helm, plot us in.”

  “Fire all shuttles at those ships. Except fifteen percent reserve.”

  “On it,” Rick said as I cut my connection and I rushed from the lift to the blast doors. No one saluted me or stood as I got into my command chair, screens vying for my attention.

  I checked all of the shuttles, finding them all ready, most of them holding Commandos already and a few not, having their commandos in within a matter of seconds.

  “Let's launch these shuttles, Helm.”

  “Sir,” they replied as the fleet began moving. Feeling proud of my people for their training, I looked around for the few minutes it took for the ships that were launching shuttles to build up a large initial velocity and spit the shuttles out towards the outgoing Syndicate ships. It would take them four hours to get there with the added push instead of the five hours it would’ve taken the shuttles alone. Less if the Commandos on the ships were able to take full control or even turn off the ships engines.

  I watched impatiently as those shuttles sped off. I knew we had heavy casualties with the forces that had boarded the ships, but no solid numbers or casualty lists had come back, probably because they where too swamped to deal with things like that.

  I wished I was on those ships, but I had enough to deal with myself.

  “What’s the situation on the station?”

  “We’ve taken the key positions. We’ve got recruits locked down in their training rooms. Bok Soo has taken the command center. The kill switch disabling signal did reach all of the recruits and people on the station, but the recruits killed others, which is our largest issue as we're working to contain them all and isolate them. Casualty reports are on your screen.” That meant it was bad. I pulled up the indicated file and bit my lip. Thirteen thousand people had been killed by kill switches. My AMC had faired better than I hoped, but the numbers where still grim. Two thousand killed or out of communication. Three thousand wounded, leaving half of the force I sent to the station alive and dealing with four hundred thousand recruits, and a hundred thousand Syndicate personnel.

  Sorting out that many people is going to be a nightmare I thought. I was having a hard time of thinking about that while there were still battles ongoing on the remaining Syndicate ships that were running.

  “They also found something else,” Rick said. He sent a message and a recording.

  Oh god, I thought, a chill running down my spine as I fought to hold my composure. The station had enough room to train over three hundred thousand personnel when completed. Currently, two hundred thousand spots were taken up by recruits children.

  There hadn't been many pregnancies with the first training rota; the recruits had been old enough to understand what would happen if they had unprotected sex.


  There had been stories from the second training group. We had listened but not really understood.

  Quickly after a girl had sex, they took her away, treated her kindly, fed her and then released her back into training. They had extracted the fetuses, putting them in fabricated wombs and grown them.

  The girls in the second rota just thought having sex got them out of the treatment the others suffered. They had been too young to understand.

  I felt revolted. They were breeding themselves an army from, basically, children.

  There were three groups taken out of their wombs.

  While they were just a number of months outside of the womb, they were already being sleep trained and the oldest had bodies of ten year olds.

  Rick looked to me, his stare asking what we were going to do.

  We could give them to Earth to look after, but there was no knowing what state it was in. No, we weren't going to damn these kids to going through the system as I had.

  We would give them a home, somewhere to grow up, and the choice of what they wanted to do.

  Convinced with my own decision, I wrote up orders saying that they would be cared for by the Free Fleet. I would personally oversee it. Being an orphan, I didn't want these kids to feel like freaks or outsiders.

  I sat back in my seat.

  “Ship reports,” I said blankly. Rick sent them to me. The guilt and thoughts of regret, wondering if I could’ve done something else, filled me.

  It was never easy. I looked at all of the names. I owed them that.

  Grounded in despair, but the reality that nothing I could do would bring them back, I looked to the fleet movements.

  Bregend was able to get his battle cruiser back into formation and was working tirelessly to get his weapons and engines in fighting trim, but I thought it was going to take a dock to put it right. It had suffered a lot going through Avar Interi Hermanti’s atmosphere and then getting battered when he was covering Chaleel from Syndicate forces weapons fire.

  Resilient was taking longer to put back together just because of the size of her, being a third again the size of the second largest ship.

  "James, I've had to put the second reactor into standby mode and the third at fifty percent as the magnetic bottle's unstable," Eddie said without preamble when I opened a channel with him, cutting back my opening words as my brain changed gears.

  "What does that mean?"

  "Either we move or we use our weapons."

  I winced internally. That was a terrible way to go into a battle. "How long will it be till you can get the second and third generator back online?"

  "She's going to need a dock; these generators are well past their limits and I might have to reduce the output of the third more as the bottle becomes more unstable. I have the release sequence readied in case it goes critical, which is a possibility at any moment."

  "Fixes?" I said, trying to keep desperation out of my voice.

  "We need new generators and soon; I don't know how long the first is going to last with the constant power usage."

  "Shit."

  "Yes, quite."

  "Talk to the Kuruvians on the factory ships. Get them building reactors. I know Parnmal is making some, but I think you'll agree it'll be better to have them as soon as possible."

  "Yes, sir. How many should I ask them to make?" His tone sounded judgmental.

  "All of them. Might as well get it done."

  "I'll get time estimates as quickly as possible." Joy filled his voice, obviously I'd passed some test, or at least satisfied his engineering desires. He cut the channel, probably so that I didn't get the chance to go back on my word.

  I didn't mind because I started getting solid numbers from a cruiser that was braking slightly. It had been taken but with terrible losses. All the numbers where grim. We'd lost all but forty percent of the troops I'd sent to the ships, giving me two thousand remaining, but my shuttles where now less than an hour out and braking hard so they didn't pass the ships.

  I watched tensely as a half hour passed, seemingly like a lifetime, and as a private call came in, I took it.

  "Generators will take three days with the entire crew of the factory ships," Eddie said and I took a minute to realize what he was talking about.

  "Alright, get it started if you can trust them."

  "I do. They're of the same bloodline as me," he said, making it seem absurd that they wouldn't.

  "Okay," I said, thinking I would have to look up why that was so important. Maybe they where family members. He could probably tell I was distracted by my tone because he cut the channel. I continued watching my shuttles. They where inside the Syndicates PD envelope.

  "We have fire coming from one of the battle cruisers!"

  "One of the destroyers is firing!"

  I felt my blood go cold as I saw the shuttles jinking and taking fire, some of them where ripped apart.

  "Five shuttles destroyed, six shuttles. The weapon systems have been destroyed and our forces are moving to reinforce the Commandos already on board," the combined arms officer said.

  Again, I settled into waiting as I read reports filled with casualties and gruesome numbers and names of those who where so close to Earth but would never make it back to their home planet alive, whether it be Earth or AIH or the Kuruvian and Sarenmenti's home worlds. More ghosts to occupy my sleep. I kept my face a measured mask from years of practice as I looked over the names, my heart aching for the people I'd taken into battle but wouldn't make it back. I assured myself it was for a good cause, but a part of me questioned what good cause was worth all of those people dying.

  Fourteen shuttles later, the ships stopped firing. There were a hundred and fifty commandos on board each.

  Two hours later and the station was under my command and the Syndicate ships that had been running had turned around for Earth.

  "Alright, cut orders to the ships to join with the station to affect repairs. Ships are to be repaired in this order." I sent a file to the combined arms and comms officers and they began cutting orders to make it happen.

  I felt physically exhausted and emotionally dead.

  “Helm, dock us with the station.” Engines fired, meaning that we where open to any and all attacks as we came alongside the station and docked.

  I opened up a channel to the intel department based on my ship, not wanting to bother the busy comms officer.

  "Commander Salchar, we've been collecting transmissions from across the planet as soon as we went full emission and the situation on Earth is complicated, to say the least. Mecha's were found in Japan and they took out what are being called collector ships. The ones that grabbed us from the ground. Everyone launched their nukes but the Syndicate took them out when they reached space and then cleared the planet of them, down to power plants. Though every country that can make nukes, have been in a mad rush to rebuild their weapons.

  “Any kind of resistance was dealt with harshly, usually in the form of Syndicate forces dropping a KEW on people. The Syndicate made each country supply them with a certain quota of materials, if they fell below the quote people where recruited from that country. Some countries, like the United States, took other countries resources to pay for their own quota as they built up their military. There has been increased tension on Earth with multiple conflicts between world powers. Militaries have been heavily recruiting. In the United States, about seventy percent of the population have signed up with the military for warmth, shelter, and to fight the Syndicate forces.

  “The president believes that America would have not befallen this fate if it hadn't abided by the Geneva Convention and laws of armed conflict, or really any rules in any conflict. He believes that America should rightly own the world and has turned ninety percent of the recruits he's got into what he's called the American Space Force. It's corrupt to all hell and the soldiers are crap, nothing more than bullies in uniform, and their officers are political up to the hilt. Most of them came from civilian agencies, know
ing that that civilian control was dead, and will do anything to get a higher rank. They don't care about their troops unless it messes with their schedule.

  “Every country has cut their ties to the United States. All of the other countries are united for once on two things: their hatred for the Syndicate and their wariness of the United States."

  "Is that wariness warranted?”

  “I would say so. I've pulled a letter from the presidents secured terminal and found out that he had gained the Syndicates approval to “bring the planet Earth under one stable ruler."

  "That doesn't sound good at all."

  "No, sir, with our arrival, I expect for there to be people vying for our favor, to take sides and to stop a conflict. Overall, Earth is tired. Except for the United States, who, with a combination of propaganda and change to total militarization of the country, they're spoiling for a fight."

  "So, it's the metaphorical powder keg and we might be the match."

  "Exactly."

  "Well, seems like my job isn't getting any easier. Is there a way I contact the leaders of the world?"

  "You could set up a summit, though you would need to go in person as they won't negotiate with anyone that is floating above them and controlling the orbitals."

  "Alright, see if you can set up this meeting for me. Contact me if you need anything."

  "Yes, commander." They cut the channel as I looked over the bridge. It had been a day and a half since we'd fired our first volley of missiles; everyone was only on their feet due to Wake Up.

  "Alright, Rick, take everyone down to twenty five percent. Combined Arms, work with the medics to get aid to everyone."

  "Sir," They replied, sounding determined but tired.

  "I'll be in the station," I said.

  "I'll take a survey of the ship," Rick said, putting the fourth watch commander in charge of the Resilient.

  My protection detail fell in around me as I made my way to the dock, pausing and talking to my people as I saw them, though mostly nodding or giving tired two finger salutes as we went about our jobs.