REMNANT
BENEFACTORS LEGACY BOOK ONE
DWAYNE A. THOMASON
Contents
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One:
Chapter Two:
Chapter Three:
Chapter Four:
Chapter Five:
Chapter Six:
Chapter Seven:
Chapter Eight:
Chapter Nine:
Chapter Ten:
Chapter Eleven:
Chapter Twelve:
Chapter Thirteen:
Chapter Fourteen:
Chapter Fifteen:
Chapter Sixteen:
Chapter Seventeen:
Chapter Eighteen:
Chapter Nineteen:
Chapter Twenty:
Chapter Twenty-One:
Chapter Twenty-Two:
Chapter Twenty-Three:
Chapter Twenty-Four:
Chapter Twenty-Five:
Chapter Twenty-Six:
Chapter Twenty-Seven:
Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Chapter Twenty-Nine:
Chapter Thirty:
Chapter Thirty-One:
Chapter Thirty-Two:
Chapter Thirty-Three:
Chapter Thirty-Four:
Chapter Thirty-Five:
Chapter Thirty-Six:
Chapter Thirty-Seven:
Chapter Thirty-Eight:
Chapter Thirty-Nine:
Chapter Forty:
Chapter Forty-One:
Chapter Forty-Two:
Chapter Forty-Three:
Chapter Forty-Four:
Chapter Forty-Five:
Chapter Forty-Six:
Chapter Forty-Seven:
Chapter Forty-Eight:
Chapter Forty-Nine:
Chapter Fifty:
Chapter Fifty-One:
Chapter Fifty-Two:
Chapter Fifty-Three:
Epilogue
Prologue
“Captain?” Lieutenant Commander Jenus called. “Can you come down to the CIC? We’re having a bit of a problem.”
Captain Merenon Argus, commanding officer of the Elpizio, opened his eyes and checked the time on his link. It was 0426 Antarii Standard Time. Merenon sighed, sat up, and tapped to reply.
“Yes, Jenus,” he said, disliking the wet gravel sound in his voice. “I’m on my way.”
Merenon stood up from his bunk and stretched. Had he been sleeping in any other crewman’s quarters he wouldn’t have been able to stretch his arms out without hitting something, but the captain of such an illustrious ship received certain perquisites. Room to stretch was one of them.
After donning his coat Merenon looked into the mirror. He considered shaving, but there’d be time to do that before reaching their destination. He donned his cap, attached his link to his arm and took one step towards the door before stopping.
Merenon took a deep breath, checked his posture, and then exited his quarters.
His ship, the Elpizio, was a modified Tartaran class cruiser, modified both because the Tartaran was a twenty-year old design and needed regular updates, and because it was Starforce Alpha for the Antarii System’s governor. Much of the ship, the parts Merenon most commonly travelled, looked like any other capitol ship with sleek, durable surfaces of titanium and nano-carbonate and no-nonsense design. But somewhere between bulkheads 320 and 323, the simple, durable combat ship turned into a pleasure yacht with walls paneled in real wood, thick plush carpets and VIP amenities suited for the rich and powerful.
On his way to the CIC he passed marines on patrol decked in full vacuum-rated combat armor colored in cyan and crimson. He passed a pair of techs working on a batch of cabling that hung out of an opened access hatch, and a few officers. All saluted as he passed, and he returned the gesture to each. He considered stopping for small talk with a few. It was always a good idea to take time to tune in to the men and women he served with. Each time, though, he opted against it, pushed forward by the anxious tone in his executive officer’s voice.
Stopping at the central lift hub, he pressed the “up” arrow and soon the doors of one of the lifts slid open, revealing Ensign Lars. The ensign, a pale, sweaty man with a nervous disposition, stood staring at a tablet.
“Good morning, Ensign,” the Captain said.
Lars looked up with a bit of a start and then saluted.
“Oh, good morning Captain.” Then, realizing he was blocking the Captain’s entry to the lift car he backed up. “Sorry, Captain.”
“Not at all,” Merenon said, and stepped aboard the lift car. He tapped the button for the CIC level, and waited for the doors to shut.
“So,” Merenon said. “Is everything going well for our special guests?”
Lars gave a nervous chuckle. “Yes sir, although I will say they have the strangest requests.”
“Really?”
“Well,” Lars continued, swiping at the tablet in his hands, “for one thing, they requested a stasis box with exacting specifications. I had to get one of our engineers to fabricate it.”
“Did they say why they needed it?” Merenon asked.
“No sir, and I wasn’t too keen on asking. I assumed they gave me specs so they wouldn’t have to divulge too much information about whatever they needed the box for.”
“That is strange,” the Captain agreed. “Anything else out of the ordinary?”
“Thankfully nothing too bizarre. For the most part they seem to want to be left alone. All of their meal requests are simple. The man did request the use of one of our assemblers, but he doesn’t seem to be building anything extravagant or dangerous.”
“Well,” Merenon said, barely hiding a yawn, “we should have them off our hands by the end of the day and they’ll be the palace’s responsibility. Just make sure they’re comfortable.”
“Comfortable?” Lars said with another chuckle. “Sir, I’m pretty sure neither of them has slept in their beds. The girl continues to wear only the tattered clothes she brought on board, and they refuse to eat anything but the simplest of foods. I think the governor will have a hard time wining and dining those two.”
“As long as they seem satisfied while they’re on board, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Yes sir.”
Lars looked blankly at the screen of his tablet, eyes no longer seeing the text and graphs displayed there. He bit his lip, readjusted his hair under his cap, and Merenon braced for the question.
“Captain, permission to speak freely,” Lars asked, his voice dry.
“Granted,” the Captain replied. He kept his pose relaxed, but mentally he was bracing for explosive decompression.
“The grease on the ship,” Lars said, “is that the Alliance has a kill order on that girl. Is that true, sir?”
Now Ensign Lars, for all his twenty-some years, was a little boy in a thunderstorm, looking to his daddy to tell him it’ll be alright. Merenon felt obligated to be honest with his men at all times. If he couldn’t tell the truth, he figured, he ought to say nothing. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t work here.
Instead he unveiled the most practiced easy smile in his inventory. “Now, Ensign,” he said, “a seasoned officer like yourself should know better than to listen to gossip.”
The doors to the lift opened, finally, and Merenon stepped off.
“Aye, Captain,” Lars said behind him, his voice still pensive.
The Captain refused to sigh, and he finished the short trip to the CIC walking tall. The marine on guard outside the huge blast doors was in full combat armor. The only part of his body that showed was his face, as the faceplate of his helmet was open. The marine slung his laser rifle and saluted. The Captain saluted back.
He approached the doors to the CIC
and noticed the panel on the wall flashing as it checked the credentials on his link against his biometrics. After a second the panel glowed green and the doors slid open on hissing hydraulics.
The Elpizio’s CIC was ovoid in shape. Its walls were lined with stations for officers and crewmen. Most of these were empty for now, the screens dark. In the center of the room a large holographic display showed the Elpizio’s location amidst the seven or eight closest star systems. Two meters behind the display was the captain’s chair.
Merenon passed a second marine in full armor who also saluted then shouted, “Captain on deck!”
Merenon saluted back and then, before half the officers could turn and salute he said, “As you were.”
He found Lieutenant Commander Jenus standing beside Ensign Coffer’s display. Coffer was the third shift communications officer.
“Alright, LC,” the Captain said. “What’s up?”
“Well, sir,” Jenus said, “We can’t seem to reach Lodebar station for check-in.”
“Have you tried Salis station, or one of our outposts in the belt?”
“We tried several, sir,” Jenus said, “but again, we’re getting no reply.”
“Have you done a diagnostic on the comm equipment?” Merenon asked.
“Twice, sir,” Jenus said. “Everything checks out. We’ve even sent nano-drones into the array. It’s all in order except we can’t seem to communicate with anyone.”
Merenon blinked. Then he looked down at Coffer, furiously tapping and swiping at her screens.
“What’s your take on this, ensign?”
Ensign Coffer stopped her work and looked up at the Captain. There was something strange in her eyes. A kind of clarity and thoughtfulness maybe. It was hard for him to put it into words. He remembered the reports from Ensign Lars.
Coffer had been visiting their “special guests” in her off hours. Merenon didn’t know why that was pertinent, but he had learned to trust his instincts when it came to his people.
“Sir,” Coffer said, “There’s only one answer. We’re being jammed. There must be some kind of-“
Alarm lights flashed green and the PA system sounded two short blats, cutting the ensign off.
“We’re dropping out of N-space?” Jenus asked.
“Strap in,” Merenon said, even as he made his way to the captain’s chair. He strapped himself in and then opened a signal to the bridge.
“CIC, bridge, what’s going on?” he said as he turned his terminal screens on. According to his readouts, they weren’t supposed to break N-space for another hour.
“Aye, Captain,” came the reply. “The ship is picking up an N-space tremor up ahead. It’s not something we’re expecting.”
Just as the bridge officer said the last word, the Elpizio gave a faint shudder. Merenon’s screen stated they dropped out of N-space approximately 60AU outside of Antarii space.
“Captain,” Jenus said, her voice tight. “Our comms might be jammed and now we’re pulled out of N-space by an unexpected tremor?”
“I know,” Merenon said. “All stations, general quarters. Mr. Kalo, kinetic barriers at full and all batteries ready.”
“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Kalo called back.
He saw incredulous expressions on everyone’s faces, but none dared to ask the obvious question. Who would attack us so close to our home turf? Ensign Lars’ words replayed in his mind, a haunting recording that played over and over.
“LC,” the Captain called. “What’s out there? I want eyes.”
Jenus worked at her station.
“Aye sir,” she replied. “We’ve got an N-space inverter dead ahead at 20,000 klicks.”
With a swipe and a tap Merenon’s screen mirrored Jenus’s. The inverter was so powerful it was warping light around it, and so all the Elpizio’s scopes could see was a hot, white blur.
As Merenon was looking at it the rest of the officers and crew of the CIC rushed in, some alone and some in groups of two and three. Most of them had sleepy eyes, coats unbuttoned, and shirts untucked. Dress code was all right and proper unless you arrived at your post late in the middle of a battle.
“Jannik? Where the Void are they?” Merenon called.
“Stealth mode, sir,” Jannik replied. “Scanning for any resonant heat signatures, crunching the scopes for object recogni—Sir! Incoming!”
Merenon switched the big projector to a representation of the battlefield. The Elpizio was labeled in green. The N-space inverter was a pulsing red circle with location data next to it. As Jannik spoke a red arrow popped up on the projection, about fifteen thousand klicks off the Elpizio’s starboard bow, an enemy ship and visible now that it was firing.
“Evasive maneuvers!” Merenon shouted. “Brace for-“
Red lights bloomed across the room as an automated impact warning flashed across his screen. Merenon gripped the heavy handholds as the G-buffers struggled to keep gravity pointing to the floor against the wild spinning of the ship. The next second a projectile erupted from the nose of the offending ship going about 95% the speed of light. In the same instant it exploded about twenty meters off the starboard bow.
The ship rumbled, and the Captain could feel the angry vibration in his fingers and toes.
“Negative impact, sir.”
“Captain!” Kalo called. “Barriers are failing near the explosion.”
“Plasma torps.”
“We’re not giving them another chance to fire,” Merenon said. “Puff smoke at them and get me a firing solution on that inverter. And Coffer?”
“Aye, Captain?” Coffer asked.
“Better tell our guests we’re under attack. Make the governor’s emergency shuttle available to them and get them a pilot if they need one.”
“Aye sir!”
“Captain, more contacts!”
Merenon looked at the holo-projection. Two more red arrows appeared. One was 27,000 klicks to port. The other was behind them, 12,000 klicks below them.
“What in the--?” Merenon said, and then let go of the incredulity and got to business.
“Smoke em all,” he said. “Where’s my firing solution?”
On the projector he saw a representative of his ship as blackout cannisters launched from the Elpizio in every direction, then burst into clouds of blackout nanites, hiding the ship’s exact location and offering some protection from long-range laser fire. This was followed by another round of shuttering as the pilots in the bridge worked to make sure the Elpizio didn’t stay in the same position.
“Got it, Captain.”
“Let’s not take any chances,” Merenon said, mirroring Ensign Kalo’s screen on one of his own. He tapped a series of buttons and then entered his authorization code into the pop-up keypad. “I’m authorizing a nuclear strike on that inverter. Lay it waste.”
“Aye sir,” Kalo answered in a hushed, reverent tone.
“Nav, prep an N-space jump to Majiloid Station for as soon as that inverter is down.”
“Captain, incoming contacts coming through the blackout field. I’m reading quad-wing fighters and B-7 bombers.”
“Open up on them with everything we’ve got,” Merenon said. “We can’t let one of those bombers get through the perimeter.”
“Aye, sir.”
Merenon switched the holo-display to a closer-up projection that could read the movements of the enemy fighters and bombers even though he knew they were heading right to the hole in the Elpizio’s kinetic barriers. He considered launching the Elpizio’s compliment of fighters, but he would need them to defend the governor’s shuttle.
Merenon couldn’t help but feel an edge of anger. He was supposed to be protecting the governor, not a pair of vagabonds, stories about the girl and her strange powers notwithstanding.
“Get those barriers back up now, ensign.”
“Aye, Captain, working on it.”
Two of the enemy fighters turned into red ‘x’s as the forward cannons tore into them. Then a third. Then the first w
ave of signals slowed and turned. Had they driven them away?
His hopes were dashed as a third set of signals appeared on top of the second wave.
“The bombers have fired!”
“Ensign Kalo. Is the torpedo tube exposed by the hole in our kinetic barrier?”
“Aye, sir, but I’m patching it.”
“Torpedo fire control,” Merenon shouted into the comm. “Fire now!”
“Can’t, sir,” a shout replied. “Still loading-“
A new set of explosions rippled through the CIC against sirens and flashing red lights. There were more than a few shouts and screams until the crew realized they were still alive.
“Damage report!” Merenon called, his body shaking from the impact and the sense of his life flashing before his eyes. “Did they hit our tube?”
“Aye sir,” Ensign Mosh replied. “The tube is damaged and cannot fire. Also, we’ve taken damage to decks five through eleven. We’re venting atmo.”
“Prep all crew for vac and vent all corridors and compartments near the exterior,” the Captain replied. “Well, since we can’t torp the inverter, bridge, all ahead full.”
“Aye sir,” came a crackly voice from the bridge.
“Sir, we have more signals coming through the blackout cloud. Fighters and gunships.”
“So,” Merenon said. “They mean to board us, not destroy us. Coffer, tell our guests they’d better get going. Send all fighters to escort them away.”
“Aye sir!” Coffer said.
“The rest of us will draw as much fire as we can. Duty before life!”
Upon reciting the old motto of the Antarii Starforce, Merenon felt a strange cold fall over him, as if his mind was afire with fear and uncertainty and the motto dropped a bucket of icy water over it all. Emotions fell away. Time seemed to slow, and the thought of death was as distant as the farthest galaxy.
“Duty before life,” the command crew replied. Merenon noticed a change in them as well. CIC remained as noisy and active as ever, but all the terror had left. Every eye went into soft focus. Every voice lost its tremble and the whole of CIC was all business.
Merenon opened a general ship channel.
“We have boarding ships incoming. All marines to battle stations. Duty before life.” He could almost hear it as every crewman repeated the mantra. Merenon was at the center of a rippling pond in reverse, the mantra creating a ring of mirror-sharp smoothness to the pond as every mind grew clear of fear and every hand went about its duty.
Remnant Page 1
