In Hera’s Service
The Crineal Chronicles: Volume 1
By Raymond L. Jennings
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 Raymond L. Jennings
All Rights Reserved
Other books by
Raymond L Jennings
The Crineal Chronicles
In Hera’s Service
Imperial Citizen
Lady of Glenxanie (forthcoming)
Dedication
To my darling wife Brenda, whose love and encouragement have supported me in this endeavor as in all things.
In loving memory of my Mom and Dad, I couldn’t ask for better and more loving parents.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to say a big thank you to a few people who have helped tremendously with getting this book prepared.
First and foremost, again, Kay Hawkins. Once again she has been a rock and without her I know the book wouldn’t be anywhere near as good as it is. Thank you, Kay.
I’d also like to mention Olivia Macmillan, and Wanda Corsaro who have both contributed to this effort. Olivia has been terrific in giving me advice on improving my outreach and Wanda has given me a second set of eyes for proofing and editing. Thank you both.
Contents
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
Epilogue
Preview of Imperial Citizen – The Crineal Chronicles Volume Two
Note to the Reader
About The Author
Chapter One
As General Crineal scanned local space through his cockpit window he saw the bloom of light that indicated the destruction of the last rebel ship. His blue-grey eyes flicked down to his own fighter’s tactical display. There was no manual instrumentation at all inside the craft; the screens were merely holographic projections that lit up the inside of his canopy. This had taken some getting used to in flight school because of his upbringing; his home planet still used a lot of physical displays. After confirming that no enemies were left in the area, he then set about ascertaining the status of his own pilots and their craft. Local space was clear except for his squadron and the wreckage of the recent fight. Crineal quickly brought up the squadron status screen and was pleased to note that although several ships had sustained damage all of his people were alive and none of the damage seemed serious. He smiled grimly to himself, it was a shame the rebels couldn’t say the same.
Crineal activated his comm unit. “This is Delta Leader. All flights form on me and resume standard patrol formation. All flight leaders check the status of damage and injuries in your flights and give me a status report.”
As he turned the Star Hunter fighter smoothly onto a new course, he noted that one of his wingmen had taken at least one hit. He toggled the comm again, this time to direct mode. “Delta Three, this is Delta Leader. What’s your status?”
Lieutenant Perl’s voice came back immediately. “Minor damage to secondary systems, nothing critical, pilot in one piece, Sir.” He sounded calm and relaxed, indicating that his report was accurate and he wasn’t toughing out a bad situation. But then Perl had been with him for a year now and would know better than that.
“Roger, Delta Three. Keep an eye on that and let me know if anything changes.”
“Yes, Sir, Delta Three out.”
“Delta Leader, this is Epsilon Leader. Epsilon Two and Three have taken damage, but both craft are still operable. Epsilon Three reports minor burns to lower leg.” There was a chuckle from Captain Argolian. “Lieutenant Bristea says she can’t feel a thing since the meds kicked in, but she’ll be fine.”
“Roger that, Epsilon Leader. We’ll see how she feels after another hour in the cockpit.”
Thankfully, the other damage reports were equally minor, although one pilot had caught some shrapnel in the upper arm from a panel explosion. Crineal checked over his munitions state. The fight had been short and close-range. He had only fired one of his two missiles on the approach and the rest of the battle had been knife work with lasers. Not that it had been much of a battle. The rebel squadron was already depleted when it dropped out of jump above the asteroid mining colony and less than half a million klicks from his patrol. The Star Hunters outmatched the rebel Axe fighters, not by much, but enough. They were a little faster, a little more maneuverable and had slightly better shields. The individual differences weren’t great but they added up; especially as the rebels only had seven flights of three craft per flight, whereas in his squadron Crineal had ten flights each containing four Hunters. The fight had been short and ugly for the rebels. It hadn’t even lasted long enough for any of them to be able to power up their jump drives and make an escape. The rebel commander had been very, very unlucky. To jump in for an attack on an isolated, helpless mining station and find an Imperial Squadron just cruising past… Crineal shook his head. The odds were huge; but sometimes it happened that way. Next time it might be him running into a rebel battle squadron of cruisers. The perversity of the universe never ceased to amaze him. He relaxed back into his seat and did another visual scan of local space. It was futile, but he felt more settled if he just used his eyes to look once in a while. The manta shapes of the Star Hunters were sleek, black and hard to see at the best of times without their warning lights on. Added to that, the fact that no ship was within a mile of another ship and the fighters themselves were only ninety feet wide and fifty-five feet long meant that a visual sighting was unlikely unless you were about to crash into one. Crineal slipped back into the tactical displays and monitored his squadron from there. Another fifty minutes and the patrol would be done and then they could head home. He wondered whether the miners would send out a rescue craft to look for any rebel survivors and realized that he didn’t care. Let them freeze in space.
Twenty minutes later, Crineal hit the comm button again.
“This is Delta Leader. All pilots engage jump drive power up. Report any problems to your flight leader. Delta Leader out.”
He punched in his own jump drive power feed and watched as the indicators on the drive started to climb. At the same time his lasers went offline. The Hunter’s power plant was only big enough to feed one or the other. The jump drives took a lot of energy to work and they couldn’t retain the power charge necessary for a jump for more than a few seconds. After that it quickly bled away and the process had to be started all over again. It took thirty minutes to power up the drives, and whilst doing so, the fighter’s energy weapons were unusable. Power could be switched back to the weapons and bring them up within a minute, though. So, unless the enemy dropped right on top of your head, you’d always be able to fight. Unfortunately, you would also have to start the power up procedure again. That had been the rebel commander’s problem. He’d jumped in with his weapons down and found himself within missile range of Crineal’s unit. If had he tried to run to buy time for his jump drives to refresh, he’d have given the Imperial fighters a prime missile lock opportunity. With missiles coming in from behind at a fast rate he would have had to maneuver to try and shake them free and
that would have brought him back into energy weapons range with no weapons power. His only hope had been to power up his energy weapons, try to make a fight of it and pray he could cause enough damage that the Imperials would break off the attack. However, he was not only outnumbered and outgunned, but Crineal’s squadron was one of the elite Imperial units. The result was inevitable and brutal for the rebels. Crineal waited as the power level rose and thirty minutes later he called for all flights to check in for jump readiness.
As soon as the last flight leader reported in, Crineal hit the comm. “This is Delta Leader. All pilots jump now,” and with that he triggered his own jump control and the stars vanished.
A few seconds later the squadron of Star Hunters reappeared as they completed their jump. The star field had shifted and they were nearly a parsec away from the mining station. Crineal immediately fed power to his weapons and checked the local space display. As expected, the carrier strike force that was their home lit up on his screen and no enemy ships were visible on the display. But it was better to be safe than sorry, he thought.
“This is Hera Leader to Annihilator Flight Control. Hera Squadron reporting in from patrol. We have four injured pilots and seven damaged ships. None of the injuries or damage is severe. We’ll be landing flights with injured pilots first. Please have medical personnel standing by.”
“Annihilator Flight Control. We acknowledge your status and the landing bays will be ready. Welcome home, Sir. Flight Control out.”
Crineal toggled the comm to the squadron channel again. “This is Delta Leader. Alpha, Epsilon and Theta flights will be landing first. The remaining flights will land in order except for Delta flight. We’ll have the privilege of bringing up the rear as always.” He smiled as he heard his flight’s pilots groan over the comm. They knew that this meant they were going to be in their cockpits for an extra twenty minutes at least.
Major Strieger, Beta Flight Leader and his Executive Officer, piped up. “Now, now, ladies and gentlemen, you should know by now that if you fly with the general you get all kinds of bonus duties that the rest of us can only dream about.” Her melodic voice contained a definite laugh. Strieger was his second in command and he would be hard put to think of anyone he’d had in that spot that was better. Considering some of the excellent pilots he’d flown with that was a huge compliment to her abilities. She was also good with the admin work and people handling, skills equally as valuable to him. He liked her a lot as a person, too. She was never daunted by his rank and was as quick to tease him, but only in private, as she was to salute him. He’d found that as he rose through the ranks the less others saw him as a person and more as the rank insignia he wore. Strieger, too, had been cautious at first, but quickly saw through to the man he really was. She was an absolute treasure and he didn’t know what he would do without her.
Crineal watched the display as his squadron made their approach to the carrier. The Annihilator was an Apocalypse class carrier and was accompanied by its usual complement of escorts: three cruisers, twenty-one destroyers and an auxiliary repair ship. The carrier itself dwarfed the other ships at ten thousand feet in length. Its crew numbered over fifteen thousand and it carried four wings of fighters, one wing of bombers and a squadron of scouts. Each wing consisted of three squadrons so that, in total, the carrier held six hundred and forty other fighting craft. Its weapons systems were impressive too, with particle beam turrets, gauss cannons able to fire large kinetic projectiles, missile racks and point defense systems. Its main strike force was still its small craft, but it was prepared to fight its own corner, too. The Annihilator looked like a huge ovoid, flattened at the rear for the engines and with launch bays on either side of the ship. The cruisers were much smaller with a complement of only a thousand and holding only two flights of fighters a piece, but in a pinch they were capable of cramming five flights into their bays. Apart from that, they looked like miniature versions of the carrier with similar but less powerful weapons systems. They were faster than the carriers though and still packed a punch. The destroyers were only half the size of the cruisers and carried no support craft. Their weapons were smaller still, but, like all capital ship weapons, any hit on an attacking fighter would tear it to shreds. They were also significantly faster than their big sisters, the cruisers. The final ship in the force was large and slab-like. The auxiliary was there to provide repairs and munitions for its companions. It was slow and cumbersome but a necessity away from the core systems, where supplies of specialized materials could be sketchy at best.
As the flights started to make their landings, Delta Flight stood watch. Not that Crineal expected any trouble but you never could tell. Finally, Crineal led his little band of ships into one of the massive bays, lining up his craft with the lit markers on the flight bay decking. He turned on his ship’s exterior lights and extended the landing struts as he gently eased off his speed. Crineal settled the Hunter carefully down onto the deck and shut down the main engines. With an ease born of years of practice, he went through the shutdown check procedure and finally popped the hatch. The flight crew had a ladder waiting for him. Crineal levered himself out of the cockpit and made his way down the steps, his flight boots ringing on the metal. As he reached the bottom he pulled off his helmet and shook his head.
“Good trip, Sir?” Tech Chief Walyar asked as he saluted Crineal.
Crineal returned the salute. “We had some excitement out at Zephos Mining Station but quiet apart from that. Did everyone get in safely, Chief?” he asked looking around the bay. He pulled off his gloves and dropped them into his helmet before tucking it under his arm.
“I didn’t hear any alarms, Sir, so I think so, but you’d have to check with flight control to be sure.” The tech started to climb the steps to begin some post-flight diagnostics and Crineal turned away to head for a data-point to check on his pilots. Running a hand through his short brown hair, his head felt sweaty as always from being in the helmet for so long. He caught sight of Commander Hantos, commander of the Alpha Flight Bays, checking his data pad. Crineal made his way over to him. The bay seemed huge, over five hundred feet wide and three hundred feet deep, but was actually small compared to the size of the ship it was situated in. The Annihilator had four banks of ten bays on each side of her length with hangars set behind the bays where maintenance was routinely carried out. The flight bays were also used for repairs in an emergency, but it didn’t happen often. The bay itself gleamed brightly and was a testament to the pride that the tech crew took in its work area. The decking and walls were made of a tough hi-tech alloy called DiSteel that was immensely strong and reasonably light. The alloy reflected the bay lights and made the area seem to glow. The bay crews moved around his four Hunters with practiced ease, tool crates at the ready to deal with any problems.
Hantos saluted as Crineal approached him. “Welcome home, Sir.” The commander had worked with him for over two years now and knew exactly what he wanted. “Your fighters are all down safely and we’re starting on the assessments of those with damage.” Techs were already swarming over Lieutenant Perl’s Hunter confirming the efficiency with which Hantos ran the bays.
“Thank you, Commander,” Crineal said, looking at him with a warm smile “It’s comforting to know we’re in good hands.” He returned the commander’s salute and headed off to check on his wounded flyers.
As he exited the bay he almost ran over Major Strieger. “Ooof,” the slim, petite honey blonde said as she stepped back and gave him a salute along with a smile. “No need to hurry, Sir. I’ve just checked on the injured pilots and they’re all being attended to by medical. Lieutenants Bristea and Tyree are about the worst and they’ll only be off flight duty for a couple of days. I told the docs to hold them in the med bay for an hour and to let them know they’re excused from the debriefing.”
“What would I do without you, Major?” Crineal chuckled as he returned her salute. “Well, let’s get over to the ready room and talk to the boys and girls and then I
’ll head to medical to check up on the casualties.” He moved off down the corridor, painted white with blue stripes on the walls indicating this was a flight area. Strieger was at his side. “Did you notice any issues of concern during the fight?”
“Nothing that stood out, but I’ll have to check the recordings. The rebels weren’t ready for a fight and didn’t give us that much trouble, so it seemed easy enough.” She shrugged. “But you know as well as I do, it’s the details that make the difference in a real scrap.”
Crineal nodded. A minor mistake in an easy fight might mean nothing; in a tough dogfight it’d probably kill you, he thought. They reached the ready room and he keyed the door open. As it slid aside one of the waiting pilots looked around in his seat and saw who had entered.
“TENSHUN. General on deck,” Lieutenant Dellerman said loudly. The entire room rose to their feet and saluted as Crineal and Strieger walked in. He and the major made their way to the lectern at the front, Strieger placing herself behind him and to one side. The two of them were rarities in the Empire. Crineal was considered short for a man at five foot ten inches and he was still taller than Strieger’s diminutive, for a Galactic, five foot eight inches. Most Imperial citizens easily topped six feet, not that size made any difference once you were in a fighter.
He returned the salutes. “At ease, ladies and gentlemen,” Crineal said as he lowered his hand. “Please be seated.” He waited whilst the pilots all sat down. It still seemed strange to him after all this time that over half of his pilots were women. But even back home it had been realized for quite a while that women made excellent pilots. However, social prejudices still clung on and kept many women out of the military. The Empire was far more broad-minded and it selected for ability rather than gender, which he agreed with wholeheartedly. It didn’t stop it feeling odd at times, though. All those millennia of a built-in social and genetic need to protect women were hard to shake, he thought. “I’ll keep this brief so you can get some rest, but we’ll hold a follow-up session tomorrow once the major and I have had a chance to review the flight recordings.” That brought a few groans from around the room. “On the face of it, your performances today were good. We took no losses and only minor injuries. You’ll be pleased to know that the major informs me that the injured pilots will be well enough to join us tomorrow, though I’m not sure they’ll be as pleased.” He smiled as some chuckles broke out. “Before you all go congratulating yourselves too much, let’s remember that we faced an outnumbered enemy that was in a bad tactical situation. We’ll do the review tomorrow with that squarely in mind. We’ll meet here at thirteen hundred hours and go over everything. It will give you all a chance to do your own reviews, and you’ll all be nicely ready for a nap after lunch.” Crineal gave them all a reassuring grin.
Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service Page 1
