Trespassers: Book 1 of the Chaos Shift Cycle

by Cameron, TR

  Cross laughed as they found themselves once again in familiar territory. “It’s either my perfect physique, or my dreadnought-class good looks.”

  Jannik snorted and gave a forlorn stare at his empty glass. “For an arrogant lie like that, you get to buy the next round.”

  Cross countered, “Only if you’ll indulge me in a game,” and gestured at the chessboard inlaid into a table in the corner. Jannik’s dive bar choices were rarely without a board. The old man loved pitting his mind against others’ minds. He claimed a bit of competition told him more about a person than hours of conversation could. As a matter of routine, he played against, and instructed, every crew member who worked under him in engineering.

  Jannik smiled. “Of course, Cross. I’m always willing to take your money.”

  * * *

  Kate joined them a little over an hour later when they had traded victories, and Jannik was steadily encircling Cross’s pieces on the board.

  “The captain took the next shift, but mentioned that the two of you have a meeting tomorrow?” She hit buttons on a nearby table to order herself a drink.

  “That’s true,” Cross said. “An admiralty briefing no less. I’m sure that will be entirely useful, and go very, very well.” He saw one trap closing on him and made a bold move with his Queen to evade it. Jannik had set him up for just that response, three layers deep, and Cross lost a bishop in exchange for a pawn. He cursed creatively.

  “Any clue what the admiralty wants to talk about?” Jannik asked.

  “I’m guessing it’s got something to do with our discovery of a new alien race,” Cross quipped.

  Kate nodded, and continued, “One that seems to want to destroy the Washington, at least, but probably would prefer to wipe us all out.”

  “Except for the beautiful women like Kate, of course,” Cross said. “After all, it’s a fundamental understanding of our culture that Mars needs women.” Both Jannik and Kate laughed at this reference to early 20th century history.

  “It is wise of them to want to keep the smarter gender,” Kate replied.

  “My guess is that they’re going to eat all of you, tasty young people, but treat your elders with dignity and respect.” Jannik’s threat didn’t impress Kate and Cross.

  “They’ll probably eat all of us,” Kate said, “but it’s true you, older types will be much more stringy and gamy.” All three of them burst into laughter together, feeling the warmth of family despite the lack of blood connection.

  The game ended with Cross losing after fighting a strong battle to the end. Another round of drinks was ordered and consumed, and they staggered slightly as they headed together toward the door. Cross invited Kate to stay with him, but she only laughed and said, “First, you’re too drunk to be of any use. Second, you get to visit with the admirals in the morning, and you need to get your sleep.”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, “Rain check, Ace. Ask me again tomorrow.” She linked arms with Jannik, and they wandered off together toward the base officer housing, merriment carrying back to Cross as he watched them depart.

  The combination of bar games and Kate’s use of his fighter call sign reminded him of their academy days and put a smile on his face that stayed with him through the walk back to his hotel. He was out when his head hit the pillow, but the smile had been banished by the sense of impending doom in the form of his morning meeting.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cross met Okoye in the lobby of the hotel. The captain had also chosen the place as a residence during his leave. As they walked together toward the block of buildings that made up the military working space on the base, he saw the look—Okoye was going to give him a pep talk. They were only slightly less painful than his conversations.

  The older man cleared his throat. “Just report the facts and do your best to strip emotion out of it. They will push, and will be inappropriate and disrespectful. They don’t care about your past, about your skills, about the subtle nuances of the situation. The admirals have three jobs. First, and most importantly, they must keep our people safe from the many threats awaiting us as we explore further and further into uncharted territory. Second, they need to protect their positions and power bases. They do this through their third job, which is to fully and completely cover their asses at all times and in all respects.”

  Cross caught the laugh as it tried to escape. Only his dread of the upcoming meeting allowed him to contain it. “That’s telling it like it is, Captain.”

  “Truth, Lieutenant Commander.” Okoye laughed. “The admirals don’t know you well enough to like you yet, Cross. They are very well acquainted with me, and like me hardly at all. Consider this a conversation with both of us on the receiving end.” Cross raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I know the crew calls them conversations. The knowledge that there will be one when something unpleasant occurs reassures everyone that I’m on top of things. When you get your own command, you’ll understand. A good captain knows everything that happens on his ship and uses every bit of it to the advantage of his crew.”

  Cross shook his head as he held the door open for his senior officer to precede him into the building. Both men presented their identification at the security gate and offered fingerprint and retinal verification. In even more secure facilities, a small drop of blood would be extracted and tested for genetic match to the records on file. A dour ensign wearing the perfectly, crisp white that signified starbase crew led them to the lifts. Both he and Okoye were in dress blacks signifying their postings aboard active duty vessels. Each had a newsteel badge engraved with the letters DC pinned at the top of each sleeve. They each also wore appropriate rank insignia on their shoulders. The captain’s sleeves showed multiple combat recognition tokens as well.

  The lift opened upon a spacious room that overlooked the park many stories below. A large semicircular table filled the space, with a seat for each of the admirals. Behind the chairs was a giant picture window showing the upper level of the other half of the base across the way. Cross and Okoye had a nice view as they sat at a two-person desk inside the arc of the circle to await their superior officers.

  They didn’t have to wait long.

  Doors at one side broke open with a crash, and the admirals flowed in, awash in a myriad of colors and insignias. They were all older than the officers from the DC, at least in their fifties. Each had risen to their positions through exemplary work in their chosen fields, combined with extensive networking and politicking. Cross couldn’t imagine ever leaving the bridge of his starship for a planet- or base-bound office, no matter the perks that might come with those gold stars.

  Admiral Chloe Durand was the most senior member of the Admirals’ Council. Cross had heard through the grapevine that she had avoided several attempts by subordinates to supplant her from the position and send her out to an “honorable retirement.” She wasn’t having any of that nonsense and maintained a firm grip on the rest.

  She began the proceedings, “This council will come to order. The matter before us today is the recent encounter by the Washington, DC with an alien race in an unknown territory.”

  Each admiral looked stern and a few appeared slightly curious. “Gentlemen, it’s my understanding that Captain Okoye was not on the bridge at the start of this event?”

  Okoye replied, “That’s correct, Admiral.”

  “Then we’ll will let Lieutenant Commander Cross begin the tale, and Captain Okoye can continue it from the moment that he joined the action, so to speak.”

  Cross nodded and began to talk.

  * * *

  An hour later, the officers had shared the entire story with the admiralty and answered the first round of incredulous questions. After a short break, the group reconvened to grill the two men more.

  “Would you say you provoked the alien species?” Admiral Hugo Silva was the head of the UAL Engineering division and sported a long dark mustache that Cross desperately wanted him to stop stroking.

  Cross remained
silent, following his captain’s directions. “I would most emphatically respond that we offered no provocation, Admiral,” Okoye responded. “However, we were informed afterward that our exchange of weapons with the Gagarin destroyed an item holy to the aliens. I emphasize that this was not our intent, but it was a byproduct of the battle with the Alliance ship.”

  The admirals grumbled, each apparently judging they would’ve done better. Cross could read the attitude on their faces, and it caused his blood pressure to rise. It was always easy to criticize those at the front from a comfortable seat in the back.

  The next admiral, Thomas Bryon, was in charge of the UAL Medical Corps. “What can you tell us about the aliens, Lieutenant Commander?”

  Cross thought this was a particularly stupid question because the admirals had already seen the video of the alien species. He suppressed his temper and responded in as level a tone as he could muster. “They appear to have the characteristics that we associate with avian life, including wings, a few remaining feathers, and an overall body type that tends toward tall and thin. Their skin appears to have overlapping scales and has strange color effects associated with it.”

  The admiral pressed the issue. “Didn’t you notice anything else?”

  Cross gritted his teeth. “With all due respect, Admiral Bryon, we were a little too busy running for our lives to form a more detailed impression.”

  Okoye gave him a warning look, and he backpedaled. “I believe the crew did all that they could in this area, sir.”

  A third council member spoke up. “I’d like to start by saying that the Washington acquitted herself well against the, Gagarin, was it? Yes, the Gagarin.” He looked down at his notes a lot. “It’s not our fault that the idiots engaged a malfunctioning tunnel drive, and the chaos that ensued isn’t of our making. It’s my opinion that Captain Okoye handled the situation in an acceptable manner.”

  Cross blinked. He wondered if he had missed the question. It seemed he wasn’t the only one, as a fourth admiral asked the third, “Do you have a question? Or is this just a political statement for the record?” There was clearly little love lost between the admirals in charge of Colonization and Forward Fleet.

  “In fact, I do have a question, Admiral Campos. Gentlemen, what is your assessment of the enemy’s offensive capacity? We all recognize that this is only a single engagement, and we have reviewed the battle recordings ourselves several times. But you were there, in the thick of it. What is your judgment of their military might?”

  With a look, Cross again deferred to Okoye. The captain spread his hands out on the table, palms up. “My instincts tell me that their weapons are more powerful than ours and do not operate on the same principles. This makes them virtually unknowable. The aliens appear to use both projectile and energy weapons. I am at a loss to explain how their torpedoes crossed the threshold into the tunnel with us. I also fail to comprehend why our torpedoes were affected by the gravity in that area while theirs weren’t. We have far more mysteries than we have answers where the enemy’s capabilities are concerned. On a personal level, I find them extremely threatening, because we don’t know how they think, we don’t know what they can do, and we have no way of knowing how they’ll respond to anything we might do.”

  Several of the admirals nodded in agreement, others scowled, and at least half wore poker faces that would make a professional gambler envious. The senior admiral waved at them. “Gentlemen, we must discuss this matter amongst ourselves. Refreshments are available next door, where we ask you to remain in case more information is needed.”

  The two officers stood, saluted, and exited the room.

  * * *

  The victuals were not as bracing as either officer would have liked after the grilling they’d undergone, but snacks prepared for the admirals were certainly more sumptuous than they were used to aboard ship. Both men piled their plates high and moved to a small table. Every member of the military knew that when there was a chance to eat, it was taken, since there was no way to know what might prevent the next meal. Cross snorted, thinking that a few members of the council had taken this mandate a touch too far.

  Okoye leaned back after his first several bites. “Best case is that the admirals accept that the aliens are a dire threat and ask us to take part in the defense of this sector. I imagine that the DC will be among the front-line ships if the aliens appear. The council will want to test the opponent’s strategy and ability before committing their full firepower.”

  Cross nodded in agreement. “It’s what I would do. Not exactly cannon fodder, but certainly more a pawn than a knight. The crew wouldn’t appreciate that analogy though.”

  A smile crossed Okoye’s face. “Lieutenants Campbell and Walsh, among others, would be quite offended. We must make sure they know just enough to keep them sharp, but not enough to demoralize them.” Cross frowned at him. “I know what you’re thinking, Lieutenant Commander. You would prefer to be honest with the crew, and believe they could handle any knowledge we might give them. Am I correct?”

  Cross sighed and paused before taking a bite. “As always, sir.”

  Okoye laughed. “It’s not magic, Cross. Just a lot of years working with a lot of different personalities. You’ll learn how to read them as the same thing happens to you. In any case, captains have a higher calling than the truth. We’re responsible for the safety of our people, and sometimes that requires that they not know every detail to keep their own psychology from sabotaging them.”

  Cross mulled this over for a time, then decided that he agreed. As always.

  The two men spent the next hour detailing several possible approaches to use when the enemy came calling. The most creative ones included the coordinated activities of up to sixteen ships. They were more conceptual exercises than actual plans, but both men enjoyed the process. Along the way, Cross learned a little more about large-scale strategy, and Okoye filed away some interesting tactical options. Both felt guardedly optimistic when summoned back into the presence of the council.

  * * *

  Admiral Durand addressed them, “Gentlemen, thank you again for the information that you have provided on this day. As you are no doubt aware, the admiralty operates on a principle of two-thirds majority for all decisions where unanimity cannot be achieved. Today’s decision was not unanimous, but it meets the requisite threshold. I will ask Admiral Wesley Matthias to share our statement with you.”

  The head of Logistics for the UAL rose and faced the two men, who also stood, following the long tradition of respect accorded to the highest officers of the fleet. “Captain James Okoye and Lieutenant Commander Anderson Cross, you are each awarded the combat star in recognition of your actions against the Allied Asian Nations ship Gagarin. Well done.” He paused, and Cross saw him trying to ignore the glares that were now coming from a few of the other admirals. “It is the decision of the majority that this alien race, the Xroeshyn, does not pose an imminent threat to the United Atlantic League. There is no practical way for them to have tracked you through the tunnel, and if we were in normal-space proximity to them, our expansion probes would already have discovered them. We will not overreact to this encounter, but will establish a higher state of defensive readiness for a time, and increase the number of patrols in the forward sectors.”

  Cross and Okoye both attempted to keep neutral looks on their faces. Okoye was better at it, Cross saw out of the corner of his eye. He was sure that the heat in his blood showed in his own expression.

  The admiral continued, “When repairs to your ship are complete you are ordered to resume forward patrol. Until then, the Washington is on repair and re-provisioning duty. You may cycle your crew to shore leave as you see fit. Please coordinate with the starbase chief engineer. Gentlemen, you have our thanks for your efforts. You are dismissed.”

  There was no opportunity to respond, which was probably a good thing for Cross’s career. The same pristine ensign led them from the room, and then from the building. He inhaled
to speak, and Okoye held up a hand. “Now is not the time, this is not the place. I’ll return to the Washington and coordinate repair activities for the next twenty-four hours. After that it’s you, after you it’s Flynn. Make good use of your shore leave, Lieutenant Commander.”

  Cross watched him walk away, then stomped back toward his hotel to scald the residue of being in the admirals’ presence from his skin with as much hot water as he could get. He felt in his gut that the aliens were already on their way, or soon would be. He just hoped to find a way around the admiralty’s poor planning before the Xroeshyn arrived. He groaned. His luck was never that good.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kraada had spent the last few days preparing his underlings for the first attack wave. That included assigning one of his eight to be the new religious officer on the Jade Breeze, the flagship for the attack force. Kraada was confident she would serve effectively in that role, and would communicate back any pertinent information that the official communications might not include. They had discussed the posting in settings both public and private, and were bound by a singular shared purpose—to discover whether this opponent could be the one that was foretold. He had ample reason to believe she had the passion necessary to accomplish this task. Passion to spare.

  But Kraada was a man of immense strategy. He never depended on any single individual. Those who reached lofty heights without building a network of weather gauges to warn of incoming storms didn’t stay in those lofty heights for long.

  Exactly at the appointed moment, there was a knock on his office door, and his attendant for the day ushered in a tall woman in a naval commander’s uniform.

  He stood and crossed the room to embrace her. “Niece, it’s good to see you. It’s been too long.”

  Returning his hug, she said, “It’s wonderful to see you too, Uncle.” Indraat Vray was his sister’s daughter, and he shared a good relationship with his niece, much more so than with his own sister. “Thank you for the invitation.”