Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series

by Hystad, Nathan

  A few errant shots from the warships struck their shields, but they were holding at eighty percent. This was good, but considering they’d only destroyed five of the sixty, it wasn’t great. It meant they might hold off half of the enemy fleet or perhaps even three-quarters, but fifteen or twenty of the warships would remain long after the Concord cruise ships.

  Brax tried to gauge how the Ugna vessels were doing, and he was impressed with the dexterity and foresight from the small ships’ captains. Another warship vanished along the starboard side, about two thousand kilometers from the center of action. Three more took its place, and Brax cringed as the Ugna vessels icon flashed and disappeared.

  “We have a breach!” Brax shouted. “Calamity and Perseverance, cover them. Shu, hold your position. We’re going to stop them.”

  Ven didn’t have to be told twice, and Constantine backed up, the side thrusters rotating to push them away from the fray. Brax continued firing on the enemy, and one more warship gave up the ghost, pieces of the massive craft spreading wide as two fresh warships took its position. He felt the weight of what was occurring threaten to consume him. They were going to lose. Constantine was powerful, but there were just too many of them to stop. Shu destroyed one, but was pushed into retreating another hundred kilometers as a result, and Brax was only too aware of how close they were getting to the wormhole.

  Another Ugna was destroyed, and the Tubers had managed to overtake the drones, leaving only a few remaining out there, trying to divert any Tubers they could.

  “Basker, retreat. I repeat, retreat. I need you to…” Brax was cut off as one of their fighters raced in front of the viewer, three Tubers following. He tried to target the enemy cylinders, but they were too fast and close from this proximity, and the fighter was blasted, the ship exploding before his eyes. He caught one of the Tubers, sending it reeling, but the other two escaped, heading behind the enemy lines.

  The bridge doors opened, and Brax peered over to see Baldwin there, sweat stains covering his chest and armpits. His hair was plastered to his head, and his eyes had a wild appearance, darting from Brax to the viewer. “I’m sorry, sir. There are too many of them.” Brax rose, giving the captain his seat.

  “When faced with impossible odds, choose to play a different game.” The captain winked at Brax, and the chief of security thought Baldwin might actually be off his rocker. He stood there, Kelli at his side, and pressed the open communicator to all in the area, not just the Concord.

  Contrary to his disheveled appearance, his voice was strong. “This is Fleet Captain Thomas Baldwin. Stand down, Concord. Let them pass.”

  Brax’s jaw dropped, and the captain shut the call off and took a seat.

  ____________

  Tarlen watched the battle through the screen beside Treena’s bed and could see they were losing. “Come on, Treena. Where are you?” he asked.

  Constantine appeared again, grabbing his attention. “The captain has devised a plan, Tarlen. The moment the legacy fleet enters Statu space, they’re going to encounter the warships. We’ve created a path to distract the Statu. They’re so single-minded about getting to Concord space, they’ve already sent over half of their fleet in a direct line for the entrance.

  “How much longer before they arrive?” Constantine asked.

  Tarlen checked his timer on the tablet, and he lifted a finger. “One minute.”

  “Then you need to advise Treena to relay these instructions the moment she arrives. Understood?” Constantine asked, and Tarlen nodded, ready to hear what Captain Baldwin had in store for the Statu.

  ____________

  Andron was a solid cruise ship, one of the best in the old fleet. It had once been a flagship for a new era, much like Constantine was now, and it showed. While some of the interior had faded and worn out, the bones of the vessel were as strong as ever, and it withheld the wormhole transition with ease.

  The three kids kept it together quite well during the short trip, and Treena saw the timer she’d set, advising her they were about to exit. “Everyone on alert.” She activated the alarm system, soft red lights flickering behind the bridge.

  One moment, Andron was shaking within the colorful rift; the next, it pressed away from the exit, space greeting her. Treena gasped as they encountered seven looming warships.

  She felt something pinch her hand, and she lifted it, seeing nothing before realizing it was Tarlen at her real body. Treena closed her eyes, focusing on entering her brain, trapped in her quarters aboard Constantine.

  “Tarlen.” Her voice pressed through the speakers.

  “Treena, you have to listen to me. Baldwin set a trap. You have to split your forces and come at them from all angles. Our fleet is holding off, waiting for your arrival,” he told her, and she left, returning to her artificial body.

  The rest of the fleet were right behind her, and she sent a message out to the thirty old and undermanned vessels, hoping it reached them in time. “Alpha team, bank in my direction, Bravo opposite. We came here to play, so now’s your chance. This is the real deal. Make our ancestors proud. Make this our legacy!” She shouted the last, and Otto pumped a fist into the air as Blanche guided them toward the coming warships.

  Persi had been the one to destroy Treena’s previous post, leaving her for dead while killing her entire crew, including the love of her life, Felix. He was now safe in the Vastness, and the irony that she fought alongside the vessel wasn’t lost on her as they both sent an assault barrage at the first warship. The Assembly had added some powerful non-sanctioned weaponry from outside the Concord, and it showed.

  Within two minutes, the warship was detonating, and they moved on to the next ship. Once Treena was confident her inexperienced three-person crew were capable, she reached out to Constantine. “Captain Baldwin, are you there?” she asked, and his image appeared in the corner of their viewer.

  “Good work, Commander. I knew I could count on you,” he said. She did a second take, shocked by his appearance.

  “Captain, are you sure you should be on the bridge?” she asked.

  “Nee handled it. Believe me, I feel better than I look,” he said.

  Treena assessed their situation and saw Titun destroyed. She said a silent prayer for the fallen crew and did a tally on the remaining warships. “Captain, there are thirty left.”

  Baldwin nodded. “Keep to it. Don’t let any of them enter the wormhole.”

  “I know. I gave orders for them to destabilize it should anyone but us return,” she said solemnly.

  He didn’t reply, but only stared at her.

  “Captain, we’re going to win the day,” she assured him, chin tilted up.

  “You’re damned right we are.” His image vanished, and Otto glanced at her.

  “Was that…?”

  “That was the best captain you could ever hope for,” she told him.

  ____________

  Reeve ran the diagnostics again, trying to find somewhere to borrow energy from. The backup system was a good option, but she didn’t want to mess with it until she absolutely had to. The shields were under a lot of duress, and she twitched as they lowered to twenty-nine percent.

  “Harry, where are we with our problem?” she asked.

  He was sweating, running around the boiler room like a madman, issuing orders. “We’re nowhere. Reeve, I’m up to my neck in minor repairs, and the maintenance crews are spread too thin. Even if we could find enough power somewhere, we don’t have the manpower to manually reroute it.”

  Reeve thought about life-support, but that was the absolute last resort. They’d be able to survive for some time without it powered on, but that would be a final effort, after the backup source was depleted. “Think,” she told herself, but was drawing a blank.

  “Bridge, how are things out there?” she asked, hoping it had improved in the last half hour.

  To her surprise, Captain Baldwin replied instead of her brother. “It could be better.”

  “How bad is it?�
� she asked, bracing for the reply.

  “We’ve lost eight legacy vessels, five Ugna, and Shu is under twenty percent shields. Rene’s about to reroute their secondary system,” Baldwin told her, and Reeve nodded, accepting the fact that she was going to have to do the same. “But we’re down to twelve warships, and despite the losses, I’m optimistic. Are we going to make it?”

  She glanced at Harry, and he gave her a wicked grin before rushing to the edge of the boiler room, where a screen began flashing. “We’re going to make it.”

  Reeve continued her work, preparing the transfer of energy to their dwindling shields.

  Twenty-One

  Ven directed the ship with a level of comfort he’d never before enjoyed. He felt at one with Constantine, as if his flesh and her circuits somehow merged to form one entity. The mantra he spoke didn’t even make sense to his ears, but they were the proper words he needed at that moment.

  The last few hours had been trying, and his bones ached; his shoulders were so tense, he could almost hear them creaking as his hands moved, and he used more Talent than he should have been able to as they fought the Statu with everything they had.

  Twice Ven had moved to intercept Shu and give the less experienced crew and vessel safety from a barrage and desperate attack from the Statu. Captain Baldwin had attempted early on to communicate with the Statu, but as always, they refused to grant him access. Ven felt Baldwin’s motives for wanting to offer the enemy a chance to surrender, but he only wanted to end them.

  He’d sensed their hatred, their motivation for passing to Concord space, and now, with the Statu fleet all but decimated, they still had that single-minded desire to rush into the wormhole. At this point, it would serve no purpose. Ven and the others were aware of this, but it didn’t seem to matter to the Statu.

  Treena Starling had impressed everyone with her leadership aboard Andron, and it had led the charge in the last couple of hours, fighting and assisting anyone near her, letting the two main flagships stay the course and defend the wormhole. So far, it had worked, and no one had been able to pass them.

  “Captain, Shu is reaching out,” Lieutenant Darl said from beside Ven.

  “On screen,” Baldwin said.

  Commander Kan Shu appeared, worry across the ridges of his forehead. “Captain, our shields are at four percent.” Ven saw Captain Bouchard behind him, rushing to the weapons position, leaning over an officer.

  “Break away, retreat to safety. We can manage,” Baldwin told him, passing sound advice.

  “Sir, we can stop the last few,” Shu said, and Ven noticed the AI of Yin Shu near the young commander.

  “No. Do as I say and retreat to the sidelines. We’ll be able to finish them off without you,” Baldwin said, and Ven felt the satisfaction pouring from the remaining Statu on the last five warships. He tried to discern what could have made them so thrilled, but he couldn’t grasp it. He wanted to warn the captain, but the man’s attention was on other things.

  Pieces of their fleet mixed with the destroyed warships, making debris everywhere in a ten-thousand-kilometer radius around the wormhole entrance, but they’d managed to stop them so far with minimal loss of life, in comparison to what the Statu would have done had they accessed Concord space with the same fleet.

  Shu moved away, and the Statu stayed put for a few minutes before sending four of their warships after the shield-deprived flagship.

  “Captain, they’re trying to destroy Shu,” Brax said, and Ven waited for directions.

  ____________

  Tom felt like he’d been hit in the head with a Bentom ball and stayed seated as he considered the problem. He couldn’t let the crew of Shu die here, not after the woman he’d idolized had sacrificed herself.

  “After them. Starling, Prime, Admiral; everyone, give them all we have. This ends now!” Tom stood, his knees buckling under the weight.

  He still couldn’t believe the Prime was on board Persi, or that the admiral was aboard Remie. He imagined the few crew on those ships were scared witless of anything happening to their leaders, but if it came to that, they’d all be in the Vastness together, so it wouldn’t matter any longer.

  Tom pushed the thoughts of death from his mind and tried to focus. Andron took the lead, and Tom noticed one of the warships had been left behind. It moved quickly, cutting directly for the wormhole.

  “Damn it,” Tom muttered. This was their plan. Send the Concord ships all reeling after the other four while they sent one through. But to what end?

  Ven must have read his mind, because he finally spoke up. “Sir, I’ve been sensing excitement from them, and this is why.”

  “But what will it accomplish?” Tom asked.

  “They must be aware there’s a high probability that we’d shut the wormhole down if one of their ships emerged first,” Ven said, and he was right.

  “That is the case. We can’t fend off a fleet of sixty Statu, only to be trapped over here. We’re years from Concord space,” Tom said. But it was too late. The warship was nearing the entrance, and Shu might be destroyed if they were to intercept the lone enemy straggler.

  It became clear what he had to do. “Join the fray. Kill them, Brax. Kill them all.” Tom ran toward the elevator that would take him to Cleo.

  “Where are you going?” Brax shouted at him, mercilessly firing toward the enemy.

  “To make sure we can get home.” Tom disregarded his bridge’s concerned calls and headed toward the expedition ship above the bridge.

  A few months ago, he’d been fending off attacks along the Borders, stopping pirates from stealing freight haulers, without many concerns for what was happening outside Cecilia’s hull. Now he’d been through the wringer, and here he was, trying to end a war with an old adversary.

  He’d managed to save the Bacal, uncover conspiracies, help shape the future of the Concord, disrupt the Academy, and prevent an ancient creature from becoming Prime. They’d done a lot in a short amount of time, and here was his chance to ensure the rest of them delayed their deaths and still had a way to arrive at Earon in one piece.

  Constantine appeared beside him as he stepped foot into Cleo, named for his mother. His head was swimming, and he sat in the pilot’s seat, powering up the expedition ship. “Con, what do you say we go on another journey?”

  The AI sat beside him, smiling. “I’d say it’s a welcome change from battle.”

  Tom lifted off, Constantine moving away from the wormhole as it bombarded the last few warships. One of them blew just as Tom spun the craft around, maneuvering it for the Statu as they entered the rift. They vanished, and Tom could only hope he had enough time. His head pounded and his vision doubled, a deep ache in his chest making it hard to breathe.

  “Sir, are you going to make it? I can fly the ship.” Constantine pressed a hand forward to comfort Tom, but it vanished as the projection passed through his arm.

  He blinked, looking out the viewer, but the stars grew blurry. Even the swirling sight of the wormhole sent him into a bout of vertigo, and he fell over. Nee had assured him he was healthy enough, but his body had been beaten up by the illness.

  “The medispray,” Tom whispered to himself, recalling the last-ditch device Nee had given him. He found it in his pants pocket and pressed it to his neck. It hissed, and instantly, his head cleared, his heart beating fast like he’d taken an injection of adrenaline. He sat up, hands gripping the throttle, and he guided the ship into the wormhole.

  The next ten minutes stretched on forever, and even though the shot had improved him, the effect began to wear off after a few minutes. Still, he didn’t feel like dying any longer, and that was a good sign.

  “Con, if this is it, I want to tell you something,” Tom told the AI.

  “Sir, I’m all ears.”

  “I love you,” Tom said, grinning at how absurd it was to say those words to an AI projection.

  “And I love you, Tommy. I always have and always will,” Constantine said, returning the dumb gr
in.

  “We really make quite the pair. Two Baldwins in over our heads, with nothing but high expectations. We’re probably doomed to fail,” Tom said.

  Constantine lost his smile. “You haven’t failed. Not ever, Tommy. I did, and it’s one of my biggest regrets. The other is how I treated you and everyone else as I grew older.”

  “How about we concur that none of that matters anymore? If we make it through this, we put it all behind us.” Tom glanced at the AI’s eyes, and the young version of his grandfather nodded in agreement.

  “Sir, we’re about to exit,” Con said, ending the moment of tenderness between a captain and his ship’s AI.

  Tom braced himself, expecting the wormhole to destabilize before they exited, trapping them inside forever. He was almost shocked when they emerged, and seconds later, the wormhole vanished behind him.

  Pieces of the warship lingered, and he piloted around one of the vessel’s huge arms. “It’s me, Captain Baldwin!” he shouted through the communicator as the clunky old vessels surrounded him.

  “By the Vastness, we didn’t expect you, Captain Baldwin,” Zolin’s voice said, carrying from the modified cruiser where the wormhole generator was stored.

  “Zolin, we need to reactivate it. They might need our help,” Baldwin told them.

  “Yes, sir. Give us a minute.” The line went silent, and Tom raised his eyebrows at Con, who was staring at the old machinery.

  “Feel good to be useful, you old dogs?” the AI asked quietly, not directing the query at anyone in particular.

  Ten minutes passed, and Tom saw lights flash from the cruiser, but nothing remotely looking like a wormhole appeared. “Zolin, what’s happening?” he asked.

  “It’s… the ore is depleted. We can’t activate it again.”

  “For how long?” Tom assumed something needed to recharge.

  “With this ore? Never.”

  “Then exchange it for some fresh supplies,” Tom ordered.