New Frontiers (Expansion Wars Trilogy, Book 1)

by Joshua Dalzelle

  “This feels like you’re chasing ghosts,” Celesta scoffed. “Have you even been back to The Ark recently?” She was referring to a once-ultra secret planet that had recently been renamed ‘Arcadia,’ in some sort of not-so-subtle tribute to the lost planet of Haven. Personally she thought the name was ridiculous as well as being just a lazy phonetic extrapolation.

  “I just returned,” Pike said. “And you’re probably right, but just the name Prometheus leads me to believe that someone involved is likely from Earth. That’s just not a name that crops up in the enclaves and those who have heard of it are clueless about the reference.”

  “So what do you need from me that requires this sort of cloak and dagger routine?”

  “I just wanted to know if you’ve heard of this program from Marcum. Even if you won’t tell me the specifics I just need some direction to begin digging,” Pike said. “I also wanted to know if the communications you had with your old CO were at all … odd.”

  “I can tell you with complete transparency that I have not heard that name before you uttered it, and I’ve had no strange interactions with Captain Wolfe,” she said. “In fact, we haven’t spoken since his retirement was official. I’d heard that he and Jillian had married and had twins, but they were on Earth and the Icarus was on the Confederacy-ESA border patrolling.”

  “I see,” Pike said. “I suppose it was too much to hope for that you had heard of the program and would willingly divulge classified information to me. Well … now that business is out of the way, it seems a shame to waste this private closet since we’re both here—”

  “You never change.” Celesta tried to inject a tone of disgust into her voice but failed, breaking into a laugh at the end. “As much fun as your offer sounds, Agent Pike, I have to be going. The tugs will have the New York on her final approach as we speak and I’d like to at least lay eyes on her before I tell Marcum whether I accept or not.”

  “Make your choice carefully, Captain,” Pike said seriously. “While it’s within your right to refuse a transfer, if you piss off Marcum too badly you may find yourself in command of nothing.”

  “Thank you for the concern,” Celesta said coldly as she opened the door and walked out. She was irritated not at Pike, but at herself for not realizing that command of the Icarus was not a given. If she turned down Marcum it might not be too much longer before he pulled her off the destroyer’s bridge and put her in one of the infamous billets saved for officers who needed to be warehoused until they either served out their time and retired or simply resigned. With the prospect of a new fight on the horizon with another unknown alien species she couldn’t afford to be so selfish, Fleet needed as many commanders with combat experience as it could get.

  As she left the lower administrative decks she thought back to Pike’s suspicions that Wolfe had something to do with this hypothetical “Prometheus” project. The agent was many things, but being prone to flights of fancy was not one of them. She knew that if he was fishing for information she might have then he had already put many of the pieces together himself, even if he wasn’t sharing. If Wolfe was involved in it, why? Pike had made it sound like it was more of a research initiative and Wolfe, for as good as he was at operations and tactics, didn’t have much experience or ambition in that arena.

  With great effort, she pushed the entire mess from the front of her mind. She had no way to get in touch with her former captain, and even if she did she wasn’t about to approach him about a project that was so clandestine the new President didn’t even know about it. There was nothing to do about it and she had much more pressing matters to concentrate on. The last thought that flitted through her mind on the subject was how it was strange that after nearly half a decade of no news or contact the legacy of Jackson Wolfe was once again thrust into the limelight. From the final destruction of the Ares to his name being associated with a black project that sounded like it could also be illegal, and with the prospect of a new war looming in the background … Celesta rarely ignored her instincts and at that moment they were telling her that her mentor was not going to be able to enjoy the quiet life of a retired Fleet officer that much longer.

  ****

  Meeting the New York at the dock had been a disaster. Celesta had been given priority when she’d been spotted and, under mild protest, had been moved from the gallery to near the gangway. She spotted Captain Lee, the officer she recognized as having commanded the heavy missile cruiser, Brooklands, during the Phage War and gave him a friendly wave. The cold, almost hostile look she received in return shocked her as Lee gave her a perfunctory nod before pressing past her and into the waiting delegation from New America that had been standing ready to welcome the ship home.

  “Don’t take it personally, Captain,” the New York’s XO said as she approached. Celesta remembered her face but couldn’t recall her name or place where they’d met before. “Captain Lee is a good CO and I think he was under the assumption he was going to be named as the permanent replacement for NY’s big chair.”

  “And he resents some politically connected usurper stealing his seat,” Celesta finished. “Well, Commander, you may inform Lee he can rest a bit easier knowing that I won’t be the one replacing him … but someone will be.” And with that she made her decision. She would do whatever she had to do to remain on the bridge of the Icarus even if someone else was brought in to take overall command of Ninth Squadron.

  With the numbered fleets organizing back to their original states, mostly, she had no desire to leave Black Fleet and be assigned to Fourth Fleet, especially given the fragile political state the newly minted Federation found itself in while, against all odds, finding itself immediately on the brink of war. Now the real trick would be to find a way to get Admiral Marcum to see things her way. Deciding that sooner would be better than later, she pulled out her comlink and tried contacting Marcum’s office to make an appointment for a face-to-face.

  Surprisingly, she was told that the admiral would not have time to see her in the foreseeable future and that all planned briefings for the next few days had been cancelled. She checked her messages and saw that she had received no new orders either telling her to remain aboard the New Sierra Platform or to report to the New York for orientation. She’d always enjoyed a direct line to the top levels of CENTCOM given her status after the Phage War, so she had to assume that she wasn’t the only one being given the runaround.

  Her suspicions were somewhat confirmed when Admiral Pitt’s staff also informed her that the flag officer would be unavailable for the next few days. Just as she was about to try and see if one of the multiple comlink codes she had for Pike would go through, she had an incoming request from Accari.

  “Go ahead, Ensign,” she said.

  “Ma’am, I just received word from the Icarus … an Ushin formation has appeared in the system,” her OPS officer said. “From what Commander Barrett was able to gather, they weren’t invited. He told me that CENTCOM has been locking down communications to and from the other ships in orbit trying to keep a lid on it.”

  “Where are you?” Celesta was moving against the rush of people all coming down to get a look at the Dreadnought-class ship.

  “In billeting,” Accari said. “I can no longer raise the Icarus from my personal comlink either.”

  “Stand by until I send word, but be ready to move,” Celesta said. “Don’t draw any attention to yourself, though. Just put on the uniform of the day, and when I tell you, move your ass with all due haste to where I tell you. Wright out.” She flipped through a couple of menus before selecting a code she thought looked most promising and tried to open a channel.

  “You reconsider my closet offer, Captain? I’m a little pressed for time at the moment but I could—”

  “I need to get back to my ship,” Celesta said.

  “Ah, look, Celesta … there have been some—”

  “I know what’s happening and I know they’re locking down the station. I want you to find a way to put me
on the Icarus,” she pressed.

  “Couldn’t you ask for a simpler favor?” Pike asked plaintively and it sounded like he was trying to keep his voice muffled. She could barely make out other voices in the background, most shouting excitedly.

  “Damnit, Pike! If you—”

  “Lower your voice!” Pike hissed. “I’m not even supposed to be here right now. Listen … get down to Maintenance Dock Delta-Delta-Four and go to auxiliary airlock hatch six-oh-two.”

  “Delta-Delta-Four, six-oh-two,” Celesta repeated back.

  “Enter alpha-nine-one-seven into the keypad to get into the airlock,” Pike continued. “I’m sending a scan code to your comlink; just hold the display up to the hatch once you’re in the airlock.”

  “Is this to what I think it is?” Celesta asked. “I’m assuming it won’t just let me take off even if I knew how.”

  “I’m sending it instructions now,” Pike said. “It’ll take you to the Icarus and then make its way back here for me. This one is a bit different than the gen-one. You really only have to tell it what to do; there’s not much in the way of actual controls. Look, I can’t talk right now … just follow my instructions and tell it what you want. It really is that easy.” The channel went dead and Celesta wasted no time forwarding the information to Accari before pulling up the map of the station again to figure out where the hell the maintenance docks were.

  Thankfully, they were just two lift rides away; down eleven decks and about half a kilometer of walking and she was there. She was shocked that Accari was already waiting there, looking slightly winded.

  “You made good time, Ensign,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Accari breathed. “There’s a cargo lift that runs the entire span of the platform, from the maintenance docks all the way to the com center at the top. I asked another ensign that worked in Logistics if I could use it.”

  “A word of advice, Ensign Accari,” Celesta said as she keyed in the code to open the airlock’s inner hatch. “An admiral’s aide is not the type of person you want holding a personal vendetta … unless you like assignments to the listening posts they’re putting up all along the ESA border systems.” Accari looked like he was going to protest, thought better of it, and then just nodded.

  “Understood, ma’am,” he said simply. “Although the ensign in Logistics approached me—”

  “That was not an invitation to discuss your love life, Ensign,” Celesta said sharply, rolling her eyes as the hatch opened with a sharp pop. “Now get in before someone sees us.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Accari said again, this time his cheeks flaming red. Celesta just shook her head as she stepped into the small chamber and resealed the airlock door after her.

  Chapter 8

  “Is this what I think it is?” Accari asked as he walked around the smallish main area of the ship.

  “Yes,” Celesta said distractedly. “You’re standing in the main cabin of a Tsuyo Corporation Broadhead II, one of only three known to be in existence.” The original Broadheads were small, stealthy ships that the Tsuyo Corp had made available to certain governmental agencies as well as a few well-placed and extraordinarily wealthy civilian clients. It had packed a lot of speed, sensor capability and a modest arsenal in a miniscule package. Agent Pike had been assigned one of those original ships and Celesta had heard a rumor that his had logged more flight hours than any of the other Broadhead hulls combined by over a factor of ten.

  Now, apparently, his connections with the new incoming President gave him access to Tsuyo’s latest and greatest, and Celesta had to admit, she was impressed. She slid into the luxurious pilot’s seat and gave the minimalist instrument panel the onceover. The ship had accepted the scan code Pike had provided and an animated icon floated across one of the displays, letting her know it was ready to accept commands.

  “Activate interface,” Celesta commanded. Instantly the terminals winked on and began shuffling pertinent information around the enormous, one-piece curved glass display. She reached out and began shuffling the individual readouts to where she wanted them.

  “Find the TCS Icarus,” she said. “She’ll be in orbit near DeLonges.”

  “TFS Icarus located,” the ship responded in a pleasant baritone, correcting her on the fact the destroyer was now a Terran Federation Ship and the Confederacy no longer owned her. Celesta had half expected the voice to be young and female knowing Pike the way she did.

  “Can you bypass the system-wide com lockdown and get me a direct channel to the bridge?”

  “Affirmative. Shall I initiate ship-to-ship channel now?”

  “If you please,” Celesta said politely.

  “This is the Terran Federation Warship, Icarus. Please identify yourself and state your intentions.” Lieutenant Ellison’s voice came over the speakers after a bit of a lag.

  “This is Captain Wright, please patch me through to Commander Barrett,” Celesta said, waiting for the fifteen-minute com lag again.

  “Good thing the orbits put the two at their closest point,” Accari said as he sat in the other chair on the small bridge. “Otherwise the com lag would be nearly an hour.”

  “Indeed,” Celesta agreed.

  “This is Barrett, Captain,” Barrett’s voice came back. “We’re currently in a holding orbit over DeLonges in formation with ten other ships, only two of them Fleet warships. The Icarus is FMC and we’ve even been replenished in flight: fuel, propellant, and replacement missiles were flown in from Bespitd Depot. Ready to receive orders, ma’am.”

  Celesta smiled. Instead of wasting time with idle back and forth with such a long com lag, Barrett had supplied her with their position, ship status, and that they were ready if she needed them. Once again she patted herself on the back for insisting that the former tactical officer be promoted and assigned as her XO.

  “Very good, Commander,” Celesta said as her hands danced over the display. “I’m sending you a set of coordinates that will put you beyond the orbit of the fourth planet. Take the Icarus there, hold position and go silent. Anti-collision beacon only, no Fleet transponder codes for now. I’m on my way to you. Wright out.”

  “We’re flying this thing out there, ma’am?” Accari asked.

  “We’re certainly not sitting in this cramped ship for our own amusement, Ensign,” Celesta said. “Ship, calculate a flight plan to the coordinates I just sent over the ship-to-ship channel and prepare us for departure.”

  “Flight plan calculated and ready to execute,” the ship said. “Powerplant online, main engines online, navigation sensors online. When do you wish to depart?”

  “Immediately,” Celesta said, wishing every piece of Tsuyo tech was so agreeable. “Then prepare to dock with a Starwolf-class destroyer when we reach our destination.”

  “Understood,” the ship said. “Beginning decoupling procedure. New Sierra security has locked down all departures. Would you like to bypass normal security protocols?”

  “Affirmative,” Celesta said, hoping that everyone was indeed too busy to look too closely at where she might have disappeared to.

  “Stand by,” the ship said. “Security bypass successful. Decoupling and engaging main drive on new course.”

  There were some bumps and bangs that reverberated through the small ship as it disengaged the mooring locks holding it to the station. Celesta watched as they drifted downward relative to the enormous platform on small puffs of gas from the attitude jets. Once they’d drifted down enough to clear the other docking complex that had been dead ahead and a small antenna cluster off their port side there was a smooth, deep hum and the ship surged away from the New Sierra Platform.

  “I’ll be damned,” she said. “Reactionless drive … and one that actually works.”

  ****

  “Icarus, arriving,” the computer intoned over the shipwide intercom when Celesta stepped through the hatchway of the auxiliary starboard airlock followed by Ensign Accari.

  “Is Agent Pike with you, ma’am?” Commander B
arrett asked after Celesta had returned his offered salute.

  “No, he was nice enough to let me borrow his ship though since they locked down New Sierra,” Celesta said. “Are we secure here?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then let’s go to CIC and you’re going to show me what’s been going on in this system while I was stuck playing politics,” she said, marching away so quickly her two officers had to rush to catch up. “Not you, Ensign,” she said over her shoulder. “Go to the bridge and keep an eye out at OPS. We’ll have an overview brief for the bridge crew later.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am,” Accari said, peeling away and heading for the lifts.

  When Celesta walked into the CIC, which was actually called the Combat Operations Center but oddly referred to by the different acronym, she was pleased that it was a hive of activity and her crew was well on top of the new situation.

  “Captain on deck!” a senior chief bellowed when he looked up from where he was looking over a spacer first class’s terminal.

  “As you were!” Celesta barked before the others could extricate themselves from behind their stations.

  “Officer of the watch! Front and center,” Barrett spoke as he walked into the dimly lit room.

  “Lieutenant Commander Washburn, CIC Operations Officer, sir,” a tall, graceful officer with ebony skin said as she came around from behind the enormous tabletop holographic display. Celesta smiled briefly at the memory of Captain Wolfe, who had helped finalize the design for the Starwolf-class ships, digging in firmly and refusing to allow holographic displays to be installed. But unlike her predecessor, who had thought them an unnecessary and distracting gimmick, Celesta was delighted by the detail the holographic displays could provide in three dimensions and promptly had them installed in all the Ninth Squadron ships when she’d been promoted.