Hero of the Republic: (The Parasite Initiative, Book 1)

by Britt Ringel

  Twist sighed. “Yeah, I can arrange that… once she’s done networking.” He pointed across the grounds toward his parents and Captain Altman. Three other officers, including the admiral who had been the guest speaker, had joined the group. “It’s a shame we won’t get a chance to go home.”

  Kirkpatrick shrugged but said longingly, “Yeah, both of our report-no-later-than dates are in twelve days. It’ll take almost that long diving to Sponde.” Officers were typically given several weeks between graduation and their first assignment to afford them an opportunity to spend time with their families but the Commonwealth’s relentless push into the Disputed Zone forced Class 95-05 into the field immediately. Kirkpatrick’s wistful look faded as a smile took its place. “At least we get to travel together.” The duo had been assigned to the Second Fleet, the fleet primarily responsible for defending against Commonwealth aggression. It was no surprise that most of the trainees graduating today were headed toward the Disputed Zone. The two friends had been disappointed to learn they were assigned to different ships but delighted that both those ships were operating inside Task Group 2.2. Twist was destined for a command cruiser, BRS Lochaber, a lethal starship boasting a formidable array of general-purpose lasers, heavy lasers and missile launchers. Kirkpatrick had, somehow, garnered a post on BRS Determined, the pride of Second Fleet. The dreadnaught was the flagship of the entire fleet and arguably one of the most important ships in the Brevic Navy. Her long list of accolades earned during numerous border disputes with the Commonwealth ensured her a place in naval lore for as long as the Republic stood.

  “Well,” Twist said as he watched the party around his mother begin to break up, “at least we get tonight to spend with our families.” Sabrina Twist locked eyes with her son and began to walk toward him. Anyone in her path, civilian or military, quickly gave way. The woman ignored the awestruck looks of passersby and kept her attention focused squarely on her progeny. “I’m going to say hi. I’ll bring her over to your family.”

  Kirkpatrick instinctively stepped away from the force of nature approaching. “Yeah… good luck. See you in a bit.”

  Twist moved to his mother. He began to reach out to her but reluctantly withdrew his arms, unsure if she would allow an embrace despite the relaxed protocol. The tall woman removed her son’s doubt and took him into a warm hug. Caden relished the rare affection and approval and held on tightly. “I love you, Mom,” he sighed. Sabrina shifted her weight slightly to the right, moving Caden to his left in the process. The twin stars of New London silhouetted them perfectly in the background.

  “Got it,” someone said. Caden looked up just in time to see one of his mother’s staff lowering a camera.

  The matriarch pushed her son to arm’s length while appraising him with a glowing smile. “I’m proud of you, son,” she stated. “Use the momentum you’ve gained here to protect our legacy and never forget your duty to the Republic.”

  He looked past his mother to find his father standing just a few meters away. The elder man held his familiar grin and winked.

  “’I won’t forget,” Caden replied earnestly. “Mom, may I introduce you to my roommate and his family?”

  A flicker of annoyance passed through her expression. She turned toward an assistant and asked, “Phil, do we have time built into the schedule?” The man nodded quickly and read from the transparent sheet of carbon in front of his right eye. “You’re due for a meet-and-greet with the New London Council in one hour, Madam Assistant Secretary.”

  A second glimmer washed over her. “Well okay, Caden, but don’t make it too long. I don’t have time to meet every graduate’s family and we don’t want the public to think I’m playing favorites.” She glanced back toward her assistant and muttered, “Phil, be sure to get this.”

  Chapter 9

  The graduation revelry was short-lived. Of the three hundred twenty-one newly commissioned ensigns, all but ten were scheduled to catch transports the next morning and start toward their assigned stations. Brevic black space ships, the defenders of the Republic, were the overwhelming destinations. These ships were designed to operate in the deep, dark of space and typically sailed in squadrons of six. The Brevic navy classified such ships in order of tonnage as frigates, destroyers, cruisers, battleships, dreadnaughts and, now, carriers. Most ship types were further distinguished by mission and capabilities. Destroyers designed with enhanced point defense capabilities were escort destroyers, cruisers with greater than normal weaponry and a flag bridge were command cruisers and so on.

  The ten remaining commissioned ensigns of Class 95-05 not heading for black space ships were destined for the Intelligence Academy. Once there, they would endure another year of training for their particular craft but scheduled program start times granted them nearly a month’s leave. Twist was afforded no such opportunity. Together with Kirkpatrick, he boarded a civilian transport for the Lysithea star system. Neither ensign was surprised their transport was privately owned. The shortage of dedicated military transports made travel by civilian liner common. After reaching Lysithea, the duo traveled to the district system of Metis and disembarked at an orbital station where they would find a smaller passenger ship to carry them the rest of the way to Sponde.

  Before boarding the smaller vessel, Twist and Kirkpatrick raced to an observation lounge located in the military section of the orbital. Both ensigns viewed the spectacle on the window-mode wall screen with wide, disbelieving eyes. BRS Avenger, one of the first Brevic fleet carriers ever constructed, was an incredible sight. Although the art of war had expanded into space long ago, shuttlecraft combat aviation had lagged until breakthroughs in inertial compensators and other technologies were refined. The fledgling war craft promised to rewrite standard engagement doctrine as hundreds of spaceborne fighters and attack shuttles ushered in a new age of power projection.

  The peculiar shape of Avenger’s hull, particularly her flat top that served as a launch and recovery deck for her attack craft, made her appear only half-constructed. Despite her unique profile, she was an awesome sight that promised Brevic superiority over the Hollarans. True, Twist knew, the Commonwealth had pioneered space carrier aviation nearly a year before the Republic but surely no Hollaran vessel could match the majesty and lethality of the massive heavy carrier in front of him. Avenger and her smaller cousin, the light carrier BRS Eagle, made Twist’s heart swell with pride. The two ensigns spent ten minutes gawking at the manifestation of Brevic supremacy before reluctantly tearing themselves away and heading to the schooner destined for Sponde.

  Their entire trip, beginning at the OTS compound on New London and ending in the Sponde star system, took less than two weeks despite the locations being separated by 45.5ly (light-years) or four hundred thirty trillion kilometers. The voyage was possible only due to a loophole in Einsteinian laws and the discovery of the first tunnel point nearly seven hundred years ago. Hypothesized for centuries before, the existence of tunnels connecting various but finite locations allowed humans to travel vast distances of space in a fraction of the time it would otherwise require. Terran scientists found that these tunnels in space typically had two points of entry but rarely just one. The most common tunnel, classified as Type A, connected two star systems and callously violated the laws of physics by compressing the normal distance between its ending points to mere light-hours. The normal space (n-space) between the New London and Bree star systems measured approximately 14.5ly or one hundred thirty-seven trillion kilometers. Inside the tunnel (t-space), the distance was reduced to 14.5lh (light-hours) or about fifteen billion kilometers. Since Terran scientists were still unable to break through the .1c (one-tenth the speed of light) speed barrier inside a tunnel, a trip between those systems took six full days.

  Were the tunnel the rarer Type B, the trip would be much shorter. Such tunnels connected two star systems while having but one entrance. The distance between the two systems was reduced to zero in t-space. When positioned at a Type B tunnel point in one system,
a starship could activate its tunnel drive to simply appear in the connected system immediately. Star systems with Type B tunnel points were major economic and strategic powerhouses. Nearly all of the well-developed core systems of humanity had Type B tunnel points.

  As Twist’s civilian liner emerged into normal space to arrive in Sponde, he felt his stomach churn from waves of nausea washing over his body. The transition between normal space and tunnel space was always a difficult one. He heard his companion croak out a low moan. “You okay, Vix?”

  Kirkpatrick, looking green, nodded slowly. He swallowed several times before answering, “Yeah but I hope we stay in Sponde for a while. Eight transitions in the last two weeks is wreaking havoc with me.” He looked hopefully at his friend. “Do you know what Task Group Two-two is going to be doing? Did your mom tell you?”

  Twist smiled ruefully and shook his head. “She knew but wouldn’t tell. She said giving me that kind of information would just be putting me in a position to fail.” He turned toward the large wall screen in the passenger liner’s lounge. A red dwarf dominated the starscape. “I think our task group’s mission is still classified and Mom didn’t want me to accidentally let it slip out during our trip here.” He took in the view of the Sponde star system.

  Sponde’s M3V star was just warm enough to heat the three closest orbiting planets to a degree of habitability. Sponde-1, closest to the star, held no atmosphere and while Sponde-2 had a small, self-contained research colony, it too was otherwise empty. The third planet, given an actual name because it was habitable, orbited at the extreme edge of the “Goldilocks zone” and contained just enough oxygen to support Terran life. Named Pan, the planet was mostly frozen on its surface but oceans underneath the ice were rich in life and minerals, providing for the cities along the equator.

  The mining and hydroculture activities on Pan generated a steady, if small, income for the star system. Sponde’s real value, however, was as a breakwater between the Republic’s Metis and Lysithea star systems and the hotly contested Kale star system. Kale was just one of two “shortcut” systems inside the disputed zone between the Republic and Commonwealth. Normally, several dives through systems located within the disputed zone were required to transit between the warring factions. However, a single tunnel dive separated the bitter rivals at the strategic Kale and Anesidora star systems. This distinction made Sponde the first line of defense in one of the most likely invasion routes the Hollaran Commonwealth might pursue.

  “Ensign Twist?”

  Twist looked away from the wall screen to an older man wearing the garb of a steward. Neither he nor Kirkpatrick were in uniform. “Yes?” he answered cautiously.

  “Sir, we’ve synched our standata and we’ve been instructed that a shuttle will rendezvous with us in four hours to take our military passengers to their assigned ships.”

  Twist’s eyebrows arched upward in surprise. “We won’t be docking at the Pan orbital?”

  The steward shook his head. “No, sir. You’re all to be taken straight from our ship to your respective warships.” The man made a check gesture on his datapad with an index finger before reading the next names on his list. “Do you know where I might find an Ensign Flores, Kirkpatrick or Williams?”

  Kirkpatrick waved from next to Twist. “You’ve got Kirkpatrick but we didn’t know there were other ensigns on board.”

  A second checkmark later and the man replied, “It’s okay, I can make a general announcement if I can’t find them. Remember, you’re to be at the ship’s docking tube at fourteen-thirty with all your belongings. Will you need any assistance?”

  Both ensigns shook their heads. Traveling straight from OTS, each ensign’s worldly belongings fit easily into two LG-3 standard Brevic deployment bags.

  * * *

  Six hours later, Twist found himself tightly bound by the shockseat restraints running over his shoulders inside his shuttle. The tiny craft had whisked the four ensigns from relative obscurity on the civilian ship to the shuttle bays of four Brevic warships awaiting their replacement officers. The first stop had been at Second Fleet’s proudest ship, the dreadnaught Determined. Twist and Kirkpatrick had shared a friendly hug, thumping each other soundly on the back before Determined’s newest Operations officer departed. Twist then waited an additional hour while the shuttle ferried Flores and Williams to their respective ships as well. Finally, after more delay, the shuttle was approaching Lochaber and Twist spied his first glimpse of his new home.

  BRS Lochaber was designated as CC-34. The command cruiser dwarfed most other ships in Task Group 2.2 with her impressive 778-meter length and 162-meter beam. Constructed with expanded command and control facilities, the cruiser was not only a hammer for the fleet but served as a task group leader in most situations. Only the presence of Determined prevented Lochaber the honor of being this task group’s flagship. The immense warship proudly advertised her forty missile launchers, twenty heavy Carbovan laser turrets and ten dual general-purpose laser turrets with exterior lighting that highlighted each weapon system. The brilliant display promised dire consequences to any Hollaran warship bold enough to violate Republic space.

  During the shuttle’s final approach, Twist accessed the non-classified specifications for the Bardiche-class command cruisers on his datapad. Although he had reviewed the information dozens of times since learning of his assignment to Lochaber, doing so with the actual ship on the wall screen raised gooseflesh over his arms.

  His eyes flickered between the highlighted heavy laser turrets on his datapad to the spotlighted emplacements on the actual ship. The view caused him to shiver with excitement. I’m going to be leading ten of those Carbovans, he relished with heady delight. During their shuttle ride, each ensign had received their final orders, including their anticipated job billets on their ships. Kirkpatrick had learned he was now “OPS-A/CC,” a subsection chief commanding three petty officers and fifteen spacemen who performed normal operations and administrative duties when not in combat and damage control and ad hoc medical duties during battles.

  Twist’s own orders revealed he was destined to fill the “HAZ-1” billet on Lochaber. The position was a subsection fire control chief for ten of the cruiser’s twenty heavy laser turrets. The emplacements, labeled “A” through “E” and “K” through “O,” were built respectively into the port and starboard sides down Lochaber. Each turret compartment held two spacemen and their non-commissioned officer manager. Located in the forward part of the ship, Twist’s battle station would be the brain center for those ten turrets. His duties would range from general maintenance and care of the equipment and gunners during routine operations to the oversight of target allocation, confirmation and fire authority at live targets. Twist had read the job description for the HAZ-1 subsection commander and it sounded very impressive. His pulse had quickened as he realized that he currently had absolutely no training in any of those duties.

  I’m not scheduled to go to my technical school for a couple weeks, Twist reflected. I guess, for now, I’ll just learn what I can from on-the-job training and fake it ‘til I make it. It seemed insane to be assuming such a position with so little knowledge but Twist understood that soldiers with far less experience and training than himself had assumed far greater positions during war.

  A chime sounded in the nearly vacant shuttle as it touched down and Twist heard its engines wind down to a stop. This must be one of Lochaber’s shuttles. I guess that’s why I was the last stop.

  A portal at the front bulkhead opened to reveal both shuttle pilots working their way through a checklist. The crew chief popped his restraints and walked down the aisle toward Twist. He wore a dark blue flight suit emblazoned with a rank insignia patch bearing a single chevron below an eagle.

  The petty officer third class announced with a casual smile, “Welcome home, sir.” He pointed to the shuttlecraft main door currently breaking its seal. Pressure equalized between the two environments with an audible hiss.

  Twis
t began to rise from his seat but the PO3 stopped him. “You might as well sit tight, Ensign. They’re sending someone down to get you but they’ve been under attack.”

  Twist’s heart leapt to his throat. “What? I’ve got to get to my battle station!” He began to again push his way into the aisle.

  The PO barely resisted the urge to laugh while holding out his hands. “It’s not a real attack, sir, just an exercise.” He winked at the young man in front of him. “Still, we can’t have a butter bar walking around the ship where the SEET can pick you off.”

  Feeling slightly foolish, Twist reluctantly sat down. “SEET?”

  “Ship Exercise and Evaluation Team,” the crew chief explained. “They’re the guys that monitor the exercise and, along with the computers, grade our performance.” He pointed toward the fully opened shuttle doors. “As soon as you step onto the ship, you’ll be fair game and a SEET member who sees an officer running around in the middle of combat without a shocksuit is going to ‘kill’ you dead.”

  Twist nodded in understanding. At OTS, he had learned how to don and use navy shocksuits. The combat uniform was a light, self-supporting suit combined with a helmet that could provide a livable environment for a spaceman unfortunate enough to find himself in a vacuum, or an inferno. “So I just wait here?” he asked dubiously.

  “Yup, but it shouldn’t be long. The attack is over and we’re just waiting for Operations to signal all clear on their damage control sweeps.”

  The signal came fifteen minutes later and shortly after, a junior grade lieutenant stuck her head through the shuttle’s open portal. She was still wearing a shocksuit, the silver bar of her rank insignia sewn onto each shoulder. Plastered unceremoniously to the front of her shocksuit was a large, red sticker. Sweat matted her chestnut hair. Although she had pulled it into a ponytail, stray locks had escaped their bounds and formed a swaying frame around her face. The woman’s dark eyes shone with a friendly light as she searched the compartment. After a quick scan, they fell upon Twist and she grinned. “You Caden Twist?”