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

by Don Foxe

“The PT-89 will run re-supply shuttles between Earth and Aster,” Elie said. “Once we are sure the Mischene battlecruisers and the system patrol boats are secure and on our side, the 89 will hold station while the 109 returns for repairs and refits.”

  “Black?” Genna half asked and half spit.

  “She’s off the 89,” Elie replied. “Turns out she was never supposed to captain the boat. She and one Colonel Barnwell will be tracking down a group of conspirators on Earth who tried to destroy the United Earth Council.” She looked at Coop who did not respond.

  “Tasha and Tista Korr will join our people on the surface. They offered and the Mischene accepted their offer to assist in rebuilding a civilian leadership. Finally, the UEC wants to amend the Space Ranger charter and Arcand asked if I would accept a promotion to Admiral and command all forces in the Aster system until further notice.”

  After a stunned silence, there came a round of excited congratulations, which Casalobos quickly quelled.

  “I said no,” she said over the voices. Once quieted, she continued. “I have never wanted that much command. Plus, counting Genna’s time in the command chair, the PT-109 has had five Captain’s in her short career. I told Arcand I was happy as Captain of the Kennedy, and preferred that role . . . for now. But since the UEC was willing to set aside the ban that prevented Space Ranger graduates from attaining ranks of General or Admiral, I suggested a much more qualified, experienced, and ready candidate. I recommended Senait Kebede.”

  “Why?” Sindy asked.

  “You are smart, a communications expert, the finest tactical and operations officer in Space Fleet, with experience as a ground commander under battle conditions as well as an officer aboard a space ship with battle experience. You have over thirty years of military service, a perfect record, enough commendations and medals to sink a large boat.”

  Elie smiled at her friend and continued. “Because I like you, trust you, know you, and know you can do the job and do it right.”

  “Agreed,” Coop said from his chair. “Agreed,” followed in unison from the others.

  “And what did Arcand say?” Sindy asked.

  “He has to consult with the other members of the Board of Governors, Admiral Patterson, and the Joint Chiefs,” Elie replied. “But he said to find out if you would take the job, because he wasn’t going to get turned down twice. He also said if you agreed, to start getting your gear together and plan on reporting to the surface. What say you, Senait Kebede? Are you ready to become the first Space Ranger Grad to make Admiral?”

  Sindy hesitated, and then responded, “Yes,” to hugs and cheers from those she loved the most.

  “Kennedy,” Elie said aloud, knowing the AI present as part of the gathering. “Send a message to Representative Guy Arcand of the United Earth Council, and copy to Fleet Admiral Pamela Patterson of Space Fleet Command that Colonel Senait Kebede is prepared to accept the promotion to Admiral when presented.”

  “Yes, Captain Casalobos. My honor and pleasure,” the AI answered.

  Soon after people began to leave, Coop the only one remaining with Elie. They sat side-by-side on the sofa, feet up, hips touching.

  “What do you do now?” Elie asked.

  “Hiro and Mags are going to stay to join Duval and Noa on the planet for a while,” he answered. “Hiro can help Duval’s people as they assist in the capture of remaining holdouts. Mags will assist Noa by acting as a reserve pilot, giving her people rest. Plus she wants to get her hands on a Spirit-class fighter. It will be like a holiday for her.”

  “And you? We still haven’t addressed the fact that Pam knows you are involved, but the UEC may only suspect it. Hell, no one knows whether you are a deserter, retired, dead, or somewhere in between.”

  “If I have a choice in the matter, I prefer the somewhere in between,” he said smiling. “Until I can work that out with Patterson, I’ll stay in the background. I’m going to make a quick trip back to Fell and collect Sky, Storm, and Sparks. Tasha messaged she could use their help for a week setting up new hardware and software on AF3 to facilitate communications on the planet, within the solar system, and across systems. Once we get back, maybe you and Sindy can find me odd jobs to help with.”

  “I’m sure Sindy will appreciate having a covert agent available, but I have an odd job for you before you go.” She stood, pulled her shirt over her head, and unhooked her bra, exposing large, round honey-brown breasts and hard pink nipples.

  “Sky and Storm gave me permission to borrow you when needed, and right now I have need.” She took his hand, pulled him up and led him, willingly, to her bed.

  CHAPTER 39

  SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN

  Early next morning he met Elie, Mags, Genna and Hiro in the hangar. Mags and Hiro removing their gear from Cassandra before his departure.

  “Sindy’s promotion came through,” Elie told him. “The vortex is breaking up. Two loyalist Mischene battlecruisers are closing on the Prophet’s disabled ship. Everyone hopes they give up peacefully and release the hostages, but they will not take chances. If attacked, I’m afraid they will finish what you started, innocents on board or not.”

  After good-bye hugs all around, his three friends left the hangar and he entered Cassandra though the rear storage. Cassie became corporeal by the time he closed the storage door and entered the galley. She appeared dressed in khaki cargo pants, tennis shoes, a half shirt displaying under-boob, and her honey-blond hair in a pony tail.

  “I like it when you enter from the rear,” she said, and licked her lips.

  “Don’t ever give up, do you?” he laughed as he made his way to the cockpit.

  “No reason to give up,” she replied, taking the co-pilot’s chair. “I have nothing but time, and you are male. Sooner or later I will hit on just the right combination of looks and clothes, or lack of clothes.”

  “Captain Cooper, the hanger is depressurized and door is open,” came the flight control voice. “Good luck and safe flight, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Control. Cassandra is exiting Kennedy.”

  The Wraith class fighter eased back and out of the opening into space. Coop used thrusters to drop below the level of the warship before engaging sub-light engines. Cassandra had a course laid in for the nearest system rim. It would take just a few hours to reach a point where he could adjust the array for open space and full speed.

  Within the gravity effects of a solar system, the little ship did a remarkable 80,473,995.48 mph. Once they could put the system’s effects behind them, the ship would travel 1,000 parsecs (1kpc) in twenty-four hours.

  They could cover nineteen-trillion-miles in one day.

  The physicists already had a difficult time trying to explain how the laws of physics were more like guidelines in this new age of galactic travel. They offered no clue why every ship with a space-fold array covered open space at the same maximum rate of speed. Whether it was the relatively small Wraith or the PT-109, the same max speed applied . . . 1kpc.

  The crystal-laser arrays built large enough for a space-time bubble to form in front of the ship, cover the ship, and then release natural space behind the ship, but size meant nothing to speed.

  The trip to the rim passed in comfortable silence. Coop ran different scenarios though his head, trying to decide how the Aster system would begin and proceed through a difficult healing process. Cassandra would fade out from time to time, and return in a slightly different outfit or hairstyle. She never said anything.

  “Exiting space fold,” her voice informed him. “Resetting navigation for Fell. Re-entering space-fold.”

  Cassandra coursed for Fell.

  “Why didn’t you engage the Rys force field and head back to Fell directly from AF3?” Cassie asked.

  “Because we don’t know how much we tax the systems that way,” he replied. “Time was imperative for the trip from Fell to the vortex. If we need to travel that way, we know now we can. Otherwise I don’t plan on taking the risk until I know more about the e
ffects. Getting to Fell and then back to AF3 is important, but it isn’t imperative.” He looked over at the empty co-pilot seat. “Why do you keep materializing and not talking?”

  “I’m reading your bio-telemetry,” she answered. “I thought I would go about seducing you in a more scientific manner. Each time I appear I gauge the effects of minor changes in my appearance against your biological reactions. I believe that I will be able to create a feminine model you find too striking to resist. I am also beginning to experiment with pheromones. My research indicates human males are often stimulated by olfactory sensations as well as visual appearances.”

  “You think you can find a combination of looks, dress, and smell that I will be unable to resist? Why do you think that?” he asked.

  “My time with Lt. Moore has been as valuable as my time in research,” Cassie replied. “Mags said repeatedly men are stupid and easy to manipulate. Human males think with their . . . “

  “I know what Mags believes men think with,” Coop interrupted. “I also imagine every man has a fantasy woman. I just don’t think meeting her will result in a complete meltdown.”

  When the computer programmers working for Trent Industries were tasked with building an artificial intelligence to operate and maintain systems on the new Wraith, they were also presented with the opportunity of creating the personality for a new holo-avatar. What Trent was not aware of when he gifted the Wraith to Coop, along with the AI and Avatar came a sub-routine within the source codes supposedly deleted before final delivery. A code writer thought it would be fun to have the avatar available as a sex-toy. Stuck on long lonely space flights, it would provide company both intellectual and physical. He wrote a sub-program that would make the avatar sexually attracted to its captain. Too many years of gaming and a computer geek became responsible for the sexual tension between Cassie and Coop. All because Trent took the ship early.

  Coop could have the sub-routine deleted. He was not sure if he would or should. He enjoyed Cassie’s company, and feared re-programming now might destroy her personality. Still, there were times when she made it difficult not to notice her.

  At sixteen hours into the trip, Coop brought the lights down in the cabin and made his way to the bunks. Removing everything but his boxers, ready to climb onto the lowest bunk, he was interrupted by an “Excuse me,” from Cassie.

  She found the right combination.

  Honey-blond hair pulled back into the ponytail he found cute and sexy. The style provided her pretty face full frame, from green almond-shaped eyes, pouty full lips, to the strong chin. Graceful neck. She wore a cut-off white t-shirt to show a lot of tanned, smooth skin, and ripped abs beneath the promise of round, firm full breasts. Her nipples teased through the thin fabric.

  Simple white panties hugged the narrow hips of a young, athletic woman. Her legs were long, strong, and also tan. She had on white crew socks and no shoes.

  As she moved closer, her breathing raised and lowered the white top. The scent of Caribbean sea and female musk drifted softly across his awareness.

  “Your bio-telemetry readings are impressive,” she whispered. She pressed a curvy five-foot-nine against his six-foot-one. Her mouth covered his and her tongue worked easily into his mouth. His hands pulled her closer by holding two firm butt cheeks. Her fingers found the front of his shorts.

  She pulled away from the kiss and said, “It appears all of your systems are responding perfectly.”

  Coop did not reply. He lost and he knew it. He pulled her into another kiss and the ship shuddered.

  “Is that you?” he asked.

  Cassie had a confused look. The ship shuddered again, much more violently. Then it bucked, and in spite of the gravotonics, both were tossed up and then down to the deck, Coop landing on top of the avatar.

  “We’re under attack,” she said, unfazed by his weight thrown atop her or the heavy landing. “I’m unable to . . .” and she dematerialized. Coop dropped the few inches to the deck, caught himself, and pushed straight up.

  “Cassie, report,” he commanded.

  The ship jerked violently. He was thrown backward and into the wall beside the bunks. His head hit and hit hard, knocking him unconscious. As he fell, something yanked his ship out of space-fold and into natural space.

  END

  8/29/17

  I hope you enjoyed the first three books. Now the foundation is laid and following novels will each contain a complete adventure.

  If you want to stay updated on releases, please provide your email at donfoxe.com. It will not be shared, and you will not receive a bunch of junk. Promise.

  CONNEXIONS

  Chapter 1

  Coop lay on one of Cassandra’s two bunks. It felt too familiar not to be right. He replayed the moments before getting knocked unconscious, but nothing made any more sense now than then.

  “Cassie,” he whispered.

  “Your AI is off line,” a male voice said.

  Coop opened his eyes to find a man, human appearing, seated at the com-tac station, swiveled so he looked directly at Cooper.

  “My ship’s doctor checked you out before we put you in the bunk,” he said. “She was quite impressed with your genetics. Said you would be up and running in no time. She seemed impressed with a bit more, but that might just be my impression,” he said. He presented an easy smile that did not touch his eyes.

  Cooper’s genetic reengineering provided the ability to self-heal from anything short of a fatal wound. It also gave him six-times the strength of a normal human male.And speed. He considered using both, but decided to get more information before taking any rash acts.

  He slid his feet over the side of the bunk, and sat on the edge of the bottom bun in his boxers. Being almost naked would not affect his ability to defend, or attack if needed.

  “First, what have you done to my ship and, second, who are you?” he asked, taking command.

  “First, your ship is fine,” the man replied. “You were pulled out of space-fold by a tether. It’s a rough way to get from ‘A’ to ‘B,’ but the tether includes a force-limiter shield, so nothing is permanently broken.

  “My name is Veresk D’Sey. I would shake your hand, but I don’t think I should get too close just yet. Not until you know more about me, and why I was sent to get you.”

  “You were sent to get me? Who sent you and why?”

  D’Sey stood. He equalled Coop’s six-one. His shaggy hair light brown or dark blond. Difficult to say in the cabin’s reduced lighting. He had hazel eyes. His black t-shirt did not fit tightly, but hinted of muscled beneath. His arms certainly muscular. He also wore, well, blue jeans with hiking boots.

  D’sey appeared to be a young, urban professional on a wilderness excursion.

  “Get dressed,” he said. “I’ll give you a tour, and try to answer all of your questions. Just know two things, Captain Cooper.” Coop, former Army Ranger sniper, recognized the stare of a fellow predator. “I am not here to harm you, your friends, your ship, or your world. If you make any hostile moves, regardless of how strong, fast, and tough you think you are, the ship will toast you.”

  “The ship?”

  D’Sey smiled again, caging the predator behind the laid-back demeanor. “Your ship is currently parked inside another ship. That other ship is somewhat protective, like your Cassie, but without the sexy. If you’re curious yet, I’d love to show you around, and explain a few things.”

  Coop shrugged an answer. He pulled on a grey long-sleeve t-shirt and black cargo pants. Slid his kevlar-composite boots on and laced them. He completed dressing with a well-worn Space Fleet baseball cap. Once dressed and standing, the two men could have been brothers, or, at least, brothers-in-arms.

  D’ey knew his way around Cassandra. He called for the ladder to the top-hatch, headed up and out first. Coop followed, close behind.

  Cooper hesitated atop the Wraith. He scanned his environment. D’Sey jumped from the forward port wing to the deck. He moved from the top of the ship an
d across the wing before Coop exited. That indicated a great deal of speed. The jump meant he could fly, defy gravity, or was strong.

  He looked up. The overhead ceiling high enough to be obscured in darkness. The size of the hangar could not be discerned due to the low lighting, but he felt the enormity of the space around him. To his left, in the shadows, a ship rested. Easily ten-times the size of his fighter. The star-cruiser appeared to leave a lot of space available in the bay. The sleek exterior appeared milky in color and texture.

  As far as he could tell, the two ships and the two men the only things within the dock.

  Coop dropped onto the wing, made his way forward, and jumped to the floor.

  “This is Clyde,” D’Sey said, turning his back on Coop, and walking away. “From the outside he looks like a gigantic kidney bean made of silver. Smooth as a baby’s butt. Clyde’s been picking me up and bussing me around the galaxy for centuries. I have no idea how big he is inside. I used to explore. Not so much anymore.”

  “Picking you up and taking you places? For centuries?”

  “Clyde works for the aliens you call Martians. They aren’t Martians, and Mars was just an outpost, but for the moment, and to keep things simple, let’s just call them Martians.”

  D’Sey stopped. He held his hands up and out. “This is the main hangar. You could park all of your Space Fleet ships inside, and have enough room for a few more. Currently, your ship and mine are the only two aboard.” He pointed to his right.

  The yacht shimmered. Coop was unsure why the term yacht came to mind, but the flowing lines, rear superstructure, and flat deck leading to a pointed nose reminded him of the large private ships that sailed Earth’s oceans. Parked a quarter-mile away, the ship floated above the deck.

  “Menace,” he said. “She’s been in my family for eons.”

  He did not walk towards the spaceship. He continuing leading them forward.

  “The Martian’s are, most likely, the oldest surviving species in the galaxy.” He talked as they walked towards a bulkhead. “They created the space-fold arrays that power my ship,” he turned his eyes to Cooper, “and yours. Imagine my surprise when Clyde informed me someone, other than an Agent, traveled by space-fold.”