Space Fleet Sagas Foundation Trilogy: Books One, Two, and Three in the Space Fleet Sagas

by Don Foxe

  “Have I ever told you I hate mind-readers,” she said without looking back at him.

  “It isn’t hard to read you right now,” he replied. “You might make a difference if you stay on the carrier, but your experience as a fighter pilot will definitely make a difference out there.”

  Huard continued his line of reasoning, hoping to focus his pilot’s attention on the immediate problem.

  “JayBird is a great pilot,” he said of Tal’s new co-pilot, Jason Wren turned to look back at Huard from the right chair, waiting for the other shoe. “He’s flown with us for a couple of weeks, but little time in actual outer space.”

  Wren nodded and returned his attention to preflight checks.

  “Flamer’s crew is a rookie co-pilot and com-tac. Jon-Jon is blessed with Izzy on com-tac, but his second-seater was an ensign a month ago. Trinity couldn’t tell you the first, middle, and last names of her crew if it meant her life. Wild Bill, the Countess, and Arty on Spirit 5 have flown together for years . . . on planes, on Earth. Not space ships. I’m not even sure I can name Yassin’s crew.”

  “Your point is that we hurried out here, unprepared and under-trained,” she said. “We all knew that.”

  “We did. We also knew you would be here for us,” he added.

  “Understood,” she said with a nod of the head. “Thanks, Jim. I need to keep my head in this game. I need to stay focused.”

  The Fairchild’s communications officer informed everyone, “Six Mischene battlecruisers just left the surface of Aster Farum 3. They hid inside cities to mask their signatures. Current enemy count is twelve battlecruisers, seven destroyers, and two-hundred-thirteen assorted smaller armed vessels converging on our location.”

  Would the good news never end?

  CHAPTER 32

  FELL

  Coop woke quickly but quietly. He lay sandwiched between Storm, whose bottom pressed against his groin while his right arm wrapped around her small waist, and Sky, who pressed against his back. Something woke him. He lay still, not wanting to alert the two women, or anyone else.

  “Coop,” his name came as a whisper inside his head.

  He breathed a low “Copy for Coop,” but otherwise made no move.

  “It’s Cassie. The CVBG is under attack by the Prophet’s ships. They sailed into a trap.”

  It would not be the first time he needed to untangle himself, and based on past attempts, if he moved slow and easy, the two women would cuddle and remain asleep. It required a full minute to get loose and then over Sky’s body. He picked up clothes from the floor and headed for the door. By the time he reached the front porch, he had on pants and boots.

  With his enhanced genetics Coop ran six times faster than the average man. Tonight he ran to Cassandra faster than he ever moved before.

  Cassie popped the hatch open and lit the interior of the ship ahead of his arrival. When he hit the galley deck he found himself surrounded by a holographic depiction of the Aster system, including the CVBG, the Prophet’s ships, and anything else in space Cassie believed relevant to the situation.

  “Impressive,” he said as he took a seat at the com-tac station and leaned back to take in the panorama.

  “Part of the holo-avatar programming,” Cassie answered. She communicated via speakers. “I’m accessing telemetry and communications sent from the CVBG to Earth. I hijacked ASparila’s upgrades, including his eavesdropping on Aster system communication satellites. The holograph is a visual replication of all the information. I thought it would make it easier for you to grasp the situation.”

  “Does it prevent you from materializing?” he asked.

  “No.” She formed with her hair in a ponytail and wearing a white tank top over black cargo pants with the legs tucked into black jump boots.

  “Tell me what I’m looking at,” he requested.

  “Big ball at the bottom is AF 3. Top left is AF1 and top right is AF2. Little yellow balls are moons. Six Mischene battle cruisers just off AF3. Two-point-three-million miles into the triangle are the four ships of the CVBG. Half-million miles beyond them are two Mischene battlecruisers. Forward one carries the Prophet, followed by a wingman.

  “To your left, along the corridor between AF3 and AF1, are two more Mischene battle cruisers, two-million three-hundred-thousand-miles from the CVBG, and shadowing them.

  “On your right, along the corridor between AF3 and AF2, another two Mischene battle cruisers have shadowed the CVBG since their arrival. Those two currently run two-million three-hundred-fifty-million-miles away, and within 250,000-miles of the latest arrivals to the system. Four Mischene destroyers, originally designated as Zenge Primaries by you, and two-hundred-thirteen smaller ships of various pedigrees.”

  “Our four ships are caught between 232 enemy vessels,” he said aloud.

  “There’s more, Coop,” Cassie said, coming to stand beside him and looking back at the hologram display. The eight red dots around AF2 and another dozen along the AF3-AF2 corridor are satellites emitting white noise. The transmissions are absorbed and reflected by charged ion particles through the vortex. Sonic force fields will be rendered useless. The charged ionic environment will also limit communications, especially the tachyon-based SH. Tachyon beams would already be disrupted by the gravity anomalies, but adding the white noise and the supercharged ionic clouds will cut the ability for the catch arrays to capture particles by eighty-seven percent.”

  “Any more good news?” he asked, fearful of the answer.

  “Hawks jumped the gun with the tachyon cannons,” she told him. “For the next five hours, the 109 is the only Space Fleet vessel with an available tachyon weapon. Correction, the Spirit-class fighters use tachyon beam weapons, four per ship, but if they launch into that vortex without force fields, they have next to no chance of survival.”

  The com-tac’s proximity surveillance system popped up on the screen behind Coop and a warning beep let him know someone requested his attention. He turned and found Mags staring at the camera with hands on hips. He asked Cassie to lower the boarding ladder and open the top hatch.

  When she dropped through, he said, “Early in the morning, Mags.”

  She stood perfectly still, eyes wide and mouth agape.

  “Who is she and do Sky and Storm know?”

  “You know her, too. Mags, meet Cassie, Cassandra’s holo-avatar,” Coop said.

  “I’m happy to finally be able to materialize and tell you what a wonderful pilot you are,” Cassie said, extending a hand.

  Without thinking, Mags took the proffered hand, then suddenly released it and literally jumped backward.

  “She’s real. She’s no fucking hologram,” Mags stammered.

  “Her program includes a 3d printer,” Coop said. “Chill, Mags. I would have introduced Cassie to everyone sooner except I did not have the time to explain all of the issues involved.”

  “When she dematerializes does she leave a bunch of goo on the deck?”

  “Highly combustible components and extreme heat create gases which are cleared through the ventilation system,” Cassie answered.

  “Mags, you came here with a purpose?” Coop asked.

  “Sparks has been keeping tabs on communications between the Aster system and Earth,” she said, dropping onto the floor into a lotus position, alternately staring at the hologram of Aster system and the corporeal hologram of the avatar. “Hawks sent an SOS that could barely be retrieved. I know the alert sound, even if just a whisper. It woke me. Major problem, there isn’t anyone left on Earth who can help them. I dressed, ran over to get you, and found Sky and Storm sound asleep. What is it with these Fellen?” she asked, taking her eyes off the holograms. “They sleep like death. Sparks never moved while I got dressed.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he said. “Something in the genes, I guess.”

  “Anyway, when I saw you weren’t there, I figured you were in Cassandra. Well, not actually in her, but inside her . . . cabin.”

  Coop could not help the
smile.

  “Is it as bad as it looks and sounds?” Mags asked.

  “Pretty much,” he said, and then gave her a shortened version of the update Cassie provided him.

  “When do we go?” she asked.

  “We don’t,” he replied, eyes on the hologram.

  “Coop! We have to go,” Mags all but yelled. “Our friends are about to get slammed by that son-of-a-bitch Prophet. No one on Earth can help. We have the only space-fold ship available. Why aren’t we going?”

  “We’re more than a day away, Mags,” he said calmly. “We have to figure out a way to help them from here, otherwise we’ll get there in time to collect bodies.” He spun his chair to look at his friend. “Go get everybody up and to the command center. I’ll join you there.”

  Mags unfolded herself, took one more look at the hologram, and said, “You remind me of someone.” She left via the hatch.

  Coop turned to Cassie and asked “Do you have the power to make direct contact with Kennedy?” he asked.

  “We don’t, but the command center does,” she said, and closed her eyes. After about thirty-seconds of silent contemplation, she opened her eyes and said, “Use your personal com-trans device. I established a relay to the command SH, and linked to the shadow beam.”

  “Kennedy, it’s Coop,” he said. “Considering the situation, use the SH to reply. Secrecy is no longer a major concern.”

  In less than a couple of seconds he got back, “Captain Cooper. I see you are on Fell. I wish you were here.” The transmission could be heard, but the static required serious concentration.

  “I do too, Kennedy,” he replied, “I still intend to help from here. First, I need your help. Can you transfer tachyon signals from us into standard, and send those communications to the Mischene on the planets and ships in the system. Not the Prophet’s ships, only the remaining loyalists?”

  “I will need to dedicate a portion of the communication array and four relay switches. The fluctuations within the vortex, and the white noise flooding the region will hamper success,” Kennedy responded. “The array will target and transmit to ships and buoys identified as controlled by Mischene loyalists. I cannot guarantee they will not be intercepted. I will need to let Col. Kebede know,” she added. “She will notice the activity and have questions.”

  “Do what you can, Kennedy,” he replied. “I’ll let Elie and Sindy know what’s up. Get back to you as soon as I have a team put together here. Coop, out.”

  “Elie, it’s Coop.” This time he needed to repeat the call three times before receiving an answer.

  “Bout time you chimed in,” she said. “Tell me you’re on the way with one big bunch of friendly ships.”

  “I’d never get there in time,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I’m not already there. We’re putting together an analysis and response team. We have all the telemetry and communications, and we will be live with you. A whole lot of the technology the Mischene battle ships use came from or is based on Fell tech. Right now Kennedy is setting up a relay to allow communications with the anti-Prophet Mischene and other races on the planets and moons. Make sure Sindy knows who commandeered the system.”

  “Do you have any suggestions right now?”she asked from a parsec away.

  “Trust your training and instincts,” he said. “Even inside the vortex you have two major advantages. Speed and dog-fight experience.”

  “Gotta go, Coop,” she said, no hint of tension in her voice. “The Primaries are engaging weapons. Things are about to get hot. Elie, out.”

  Coop sat quietly staring at the system hologram. His eyes fixed on the small simulation of a ship, his ship, the SFPT-109 sitting in space, about to take enemy fire. Four small boats held the majority of the people in his life he cared about. There because the people in charge told the population Earth was not ready to join the galaxy, while conversely believing themselves more powerful because of a couple of small victories. His people in harm’s way because the lessons learned about dealing with religious fanatics were swept aside by people who never dealt with the aftermath of appeasement.

  Almost to the point where he would begin blaming himself, Cassie sat in his lap, her arms going around his neck and her ample chest, with just a thin white shirt covering them, rested on his.

  “I need to try and explain something to you,” she said.

  “Is this the best time?” he asked.

  “It’s about the vortex in the Aster system,” she continued. “Do you know how a tsunami works?”

  “It’s a large wave created by an earthquake, landslide, or sometimes a volcanic eruption,” he replied.

  “Not actually,” she said, pressing her chest against his. “A tsunami is actually a series of waves. They come in close together and often appear as a rising tide. Until they arrive together so close and so quickly they create a massive wall of water able to devastate a coastline. The gravitational vortex has something similar going on. The major disturbance creating the vortex is between AF2 and AF3. Gravity waves, an internal wave train, push into the vortex and down towards the shoreline . . . Aster Farum 3.”

  “The Prophet wanted the CVBG in that funnel because of the additional disturbances caused by these waves,” Coop said, catching on quickly. “They have a history dealing with the vortex, and they have ways of either counteracting the waves, or recognizing when and where they will crest.”

  “If we can find out that information, it may allow the earth ships the ability to sail through the vortex more easily,” Cassie finished and stood up.

  RESA VORTEX

  “Stay focused, people,” Elie said from the command chair on the bridge of the 109. The 109 dropped back to cover the rear for the other three ships. The enemy destroyers too distant to fire torpedoes or missiles effectively through the gravity anomalies, but their pulse and plasma cannons were busy.

  Each ship carried two of each type of weapon and they were not shy about using them. The pulse cannon fired an electromagnetic radiation beam that was highly inaccurate, but could do a lot of damage if it did hit its target. The radiation would disable all electric and magnetic systems near its detonation, leaving a ship vulnerable to more attacks.

  Pilots were tasked with avoiding the beams. Normally the Space Fleet ships would be nimble and quick enough to stay out of the way. The vortex messed with them, and a couple of beams got through, both hits landing on the Fairchild’s stern.

  The plasma cannons proved more accurate. Super-heated projectiles sail through the gravitational anomalies. All four Earth ships took hits, but the padding system for the secondary EM force fields worked. Exterior hulls received scorch marks, and the 99 lost a sensor array, but, the Space Fleet group stayed on course for the edge of the vortex.

  “Captain Casalobos, is there a reason you have not used your tachyon cannon on those destroyers?” Hawks demanded over an open com.

  “I’d like them to get a bit closer, Admiral,” she replied. “They may not know we have a tachyon cannon available. Once we fire, the surprise is gone and we have to recycle. If I can time it correctly, I will take out one ship and use the confusion to do as much damage as possible to the other two.”

  “While you allow them to close, my ship is getting fireballs up the ass,” he snarled. “Fire your weapon, Captain. That is an order.”

  Elie turned to Genna at the science station and slashed her hand across her throat. Genna nodded and said, “Open coms are offline,” she said.

  “You still have to fire, Elie,” Sindy said from Ops. “He gave the order and the last time a Captain disobeyed a flag order on this ship, Ms. Bouvier dropped her on her ass and stuck a boot on her chest.”

  Elie and Genna both broke into coughing laughter. Genna had, indeed, dropped Captain Black on her ass when she disobeyed an order from Captain Cooper, the acting flag, during the initial conflict with the Zenge.

  “Range to destroyers?” Elie finally asked her Ops officer.

  “90,000 miles,” came the reply. “The th
ree are almost lined up. They really do not get three-dimensional warfare, do they?”

  “They don’t need to if they can use numbers and territory,” Elie answered. “Their scanners will detect the tachyon cannon cycling up. Have the railgun turned and facing them,” she ordered. “Set the plasma cannon on top to auto-fire and synced to the railgun. Target the center destroyer with the tachyon, and the ship on its port side with a combination of railgun kinetic rounds, followed by plasma rounds. Sindy, don’t hold back,” she said.

  Col. Kebede simply nodded and keyed commands to her weapons systems, beginning with the order for the tachyon cannon mounted underneath the 109 to commence firing cycle.

  Ops aboard the Fairchild reported, “The 109’s tachyon cannon initiated firing cycle.”

  “About goddamn time,” Hawks said. “How far until we make the AF3-AF1 corridor?”

  The officer at the navigation console responded, “It’s difficult to estimate, Admiral. We’ve been running into these gravity walls that cut our speed. Maybe twenty-four-hours, sir.”

  “Twenty-four-hours, Mister,” Hawks turned red. He was tired, tense, angry, and close to hurting someone. “We most assuredly do not have twenty-four-hours. Contact engineering and tell them I want more speed. No excuses. I do not need to hear one more word about this fucking vortex. Order them to find a way.”

  “Sir, I’ve relayed your message to the Master Chief in engineering,” the young ensign was fearful of becoming the Admiral’s target, but continued, “We have a contact from the planet Fell for you, sir. Representative ASkiiunterel is requesting you. He says he may be able to help.”

  Under his breath, but everyone on the bridge heard him say, “Fucking Fellens.” Then he keyed his com mike from his command chair and said, “This is Admiral Hawks. We are in the middle of a battle, Representative. And how are you able to get through?”

  “Admiral Hawks, we are monitoring events in Aster system. We can provide perspectives on your situation you may not be fully aware of. We believe our analysis can help.”