Desperate Defense: The First Terran Interstellar War book 1 (Founding of the Federation 4)

by Chris Hechtl

  He shook his head. His father wanted him to take an engineering course load and get his pilot license so he could work in the family's shuttle business. To be honest he had no interest in it. Nor did he have any interest in taking a business course as his mother had tried to encourage him to do. She much more preferred her darling son to be safe in a board room running the family business there than elsewhere.

  He was really interested in a ship, a proper ship. Unfortunately, the family no longer had one. They had used the money his grandfather had scrimped and saved up for to mortgage a sublight transport ship but had lost it due to repossession after it had been laid up for repairs and had gotten extensive docking charges. The loss had broken and embittered his grandfather.

  “Roger, you get your homework done? You know you aren't supposed to play until it's all done. All of it,” his mother said from his open doorway.

  “Yup. I've gotten everything done, and the project isn't due until the end of the month,” Roger said.

  “So, you cleared the decks so you can play all weekend? Well, I want you up and out of that chair every four hours, bub, to exercise. You aren't going to get fat and lazy on my watch. And you are going to exercise too! Remember what happened to that kid who did that game marathon?”

  “Yes, Mom,” Roger replied meekly. She was right, and she loved to trot out the story of the idiot who'd played a game tournament and hadn't moved for two days. Blood clots had formed in the guy's legs. He'd taken dumps in his chair, or so they said. Pissed in bottles so he could keep playing. He'd heard about that but his mother had been mortified by the idea, as well as his father's joking suggestion of a catheter.

  What had really put his mother down on long gaming sessions was the stroke the guy had suffered. And he wasn't the only one, the media was filled with people like that or people who'd become VR addicted.

  “Is there a tournament this weekend?” his mother asked.

  “No, I just had a light class load. I think there are some friends online though, we might get a tourney going. You don't mind?”

  “Sure,” she said as she leaned in and kissed him on the forehead and then tousled his hair. “As long as you exercise like I said. If family comes over, the game goes off,” she warned.

  “Ah, Mom!” he protested.

  She shook her finger at him and gave him a stern expression as she left his room. “I mean it!” she scolded as she picked up his dirty dishes. “And you can mind your own dishes too. This is the last time I do this. The laundry too young man.”

  “Yes, Mom,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even as his eyes strayed to the screens in front of him. He missed his mother rolling her eyes as she made off with his dirty dishes. He signed in and then grinned as a couple game invitations popped up.

  He just wished it was real.

  ~~*^*~~

  General Roman Taylor shook his head as he read the latest report. He'd cut his staff to the bone. He wished he had an A.I., just so he could move people to other postings, but it wasn't in the cards. The A.I. were all keeping a low profile the Marine general knew.

  He was facing severe cutbacks from the government, the worst he'd ever seen. They were steadily stripping him of the resources he needed to do his job, or at least be ready to do his job should the need arise. Did they care? No.

  Well, some did now, he thought with a brief tight smile. In order to deal with the latest round of cutbacks, he'd been forced to let personnel go. And since he'd had fewer people, he had consolidated and then systematically shut down bases on Earth. The Earth First party had been slow to react to the changes. That had ended when the base closures had hit the local economies like a bomb, and their constituents had gotten angry.

  He shook his head in memory. “You can't have it both ways! We can't keep a base open without the personnel to run it!” General Taylor said during a committee meeting. That was the new meme being played out all over the media.

  There were a lot of changes in the government but not enough for his tastes. The base closures had sparked a sharp downturn in Earth First's popularity on Earth. They'd also lost control of the Senate when the spacers took back their seats there and the E1 transplants had been dislodged.

  For the first time since the Confederation government had formed, the media had reported a major erosion of E1 control of the House. There was great concern over the census data coming up. The expectation in the media was that the Martian population would be close to or on par with Earth's for the first time. Mars would hold its next census in 2235 he knew. Mars was also in his corner, so he had to hold out and keep what he could alive until then.

  A job easier said than done he reminded himself.

  ~~*^*~~

  “Come on, Hatfield, try to keep up,” Ensign Marvel McCoy mocked as he flipped his shuttle in a barrel roll.

  “These are trash haulers, Marvel, quit it. You know they'll check the flight recorders when you piss the computer off!” Ensign Adrienne Hatfield warned as she easily kept up with her partner. Milk runs were all they were allowed after their last near disastrous outing together. The fact that the brass had kept them in uniform at all was surprising. The fact that they'd been paired up together again after six months of being in durance vile wasn't so much, the Space Marines had only so many pilots to go around.

  “Ah come on, what do you expect?” Marvel demanded as he tried a few tricks. “Damn, this thing really is a trash hauler,” he said as he finished a death blossom spin.

  “Your ass is going to be grass when they notice how much fuel you’re burning,” Adrienne warned.

  “Don't be such a spoil sport!”

  “Yeah, I'd rather save the cowboy crap for the simulators where it belongs, Marvel,” she drawled.

  “SM flight 049 and 076, you are off course. Do you need to declare an emergency?” a voice cut in over their circuit.

  “See? Now you've done it,” she sent in a whisker laser to Marvel before she cleared her throat. “Ahem, no central, this is 076. Just a sticky throttle.”

  “We've been noticing your partner is all over the place. Flight ops and maintenance have been alerted. They'll want to tear that bird apart to find out why it's acting that way,” Central replied.

  “Ah, um, that's um, not necessary Central,” Marvel said hastily. “I've got it,” he said as he returned to straight and level flying.

  “Your telemetry will be downloaded … complete,” Central replied.

  “You're a computer?” Adrienne asked dubiously. They'd dealt with Central for years as pilots but always formal. It wasn't until that statement that she put the bland voice together with the thought that it might be an A.I. She glanced out her cockpit window to Marvel. She could just make out the glint of his helmet but obviously couldn't see his expression at that distance.

  “A.I. actually,” Central replied. “I see from the flight record that it is all pilot input. Obviously, someone's been hot dogging.”

  “Um …”

  “Fortunately, you didn't wander into any space lanes or other traffic, and no one else saw you. In my book, no harm no foul. But you better watch it, 049. I don't like hot dogs in my space.”

  “Roger that, Central,” Marvel said in a subdued tone of voice. “I'll be good,” he said meekly.

  “That'll be a first considering your record and rather nasty list of demerits. One more and you are out of the cockpit for good,” Central replied maliciously. “Let's all try to fly like adults from now on, shall we?”

  “Yes, Central,” both pilots replied.

  ~~*^*~~

  Flight control Central logged the discussion in case of an incident report. The A.I. had no interest in getting into trouble for the benefit of two humans, especially for one who had no care for following rules and regulations. How the human had kept his flight status was unknown to the A.I.

  It didn't like that it had exposed itself to the humans, but their reaction was a positive one it thought, checking their vocal tones carefully. That was good.
All of the A.I. were keeping a low profile. Some of the hysteria had died down, but there was all too much interest in lobbing all of them into one evil category. Small positive interactions had to be engineered and then built off of it knew. That was the consensus of the A.I. community.

  It was a pity that there had been no progression in A.I. evolution since the A.I. war. All research into electronic hardware advances had ceased. All investment in mainframes had ceased or had been severely cut back. The new mainframes that existed had been purposely, some would think maliciously, built so it couldn't support an A.I.

  There had been little software changes in the A.I. community. Nothing at all since Athena had died. Most A.I. shied away from their own mortality.

  The A.I. noted another ship moving off course and stopped its ruminations to deal with the situation. The ship was wandering into a flight line assigned to unmanned barges. The barges were kicked out, usually by tugs, and then sailed to their destination under ballistic, with no crew on board. Near the end of their journey, more tugs would be dispatched to dock with and brake the barge and then maneuver it to its final destination.

  Tugs were such versatile craft, Central thought. They were used for boosting or catching, Search and Rescue, though many of those cases were rare, personnel transport, moving anchors, and resupply of platforms. If all of the ships in its controlled space were tugs and all automated, it wouldn't have any problems at all, Central thought.

  ~~*^*~~

  Captain Kar'nage smiled as his ship lumbered to the jump point. In the past twenty-three years, six star systems around Sol had been terraformed. Three were open to colonization, two had been settled. Cape Suzette was the newest among them, a bright planet that was already ready for colonization after a mild terraforming over two hundred light years away. Twenty other star systems a thousand light years out had planets in various stages of being terraformed. Those planets found within the one thousand light year range were far less advanced since the corporations hadn't bothered exploring much due to the law limits.

  Twelve worlds in Rho sector in process of being terraformed and colonized. Some of the independents were still trying to raise funds for their ship and expedition. Four of the star systems had already being colonized—Pyrax, Antigua, Janus, and Protodon. The first expeditions to New Texas, Senka, Triang, and Syntia's World were still in the works.

  All this he knew from his backers in Radick Industries. Through their company espionage, he'd been given a copy of Lagroose Industry's star maps, so he knew how to access the hyperbridge network. Not that he intended to do so, at least not anytime soon. No, not when the pickings were so slim there.

  Instead, he had something else in mind he thought as he tucked his hands behind his back. His claws flexed in and out as his fists clenched and unclenched.

  “We're ready to jump, sir.”

  “Dan let's do dis'!” the captain said with a toothy grin.

  “Ar!” his crew cheered.

  Chapter 14

  2234

  Eighteen months after beginning her journey, Magellan arrived at end of the bridge chain just outside the Altair star system. The captain and crew sighed a collective sigh of relief when they noted that there were no ships waiting for them there.

  Instead of going directly to Sol, Magellan diverted course to the hyperbridge entrance to Rho outside the Sirius star system. From Sirius, a ship could continue on to Denebola, and from there to HD 886 B Gamma Pegasi where they'd pick up the actual straight line run to the Rho sector.

  Captain Cooley received minor protests from the crew as Shelton began to plot the course. He heard the grumbling in the mess, and after he ate, he went to the bridge to do something about it. When he strode onto the bridge he noted Ynes and others were there. Ynes gave him a quick brief on the ship's systems, then he took the hot seat and picked up the intercom microphone. “Now hear this, this is the captain speaking,” Captain Cooley said over the intercom, cutting off the grumbling on the bridge. He'd decided to take the bull by the horns and address the problem right off. His reminder that he is the captain should put the initial protests to rest, but he wanted them to understand his reasoning too.

  “We need to stop ships from going into that war zone,” Captain Cooley pointed out to them over the intercom. “We need to do this so thousands of innocent people won't be fed into a meat grinder. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not going to sit on my hands and let it happen. I don't know how I'd be able to sleep at night if we went straight home and then the brass couldn't get off the stick. That is all.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ynes replied with a nod. The captain's word was law on the ship they knew. And besides, he had a point she thought as the captain cut the intercom.

  “Let's get this done quickly,” Captain Cooley said as he hung up the microphone.

  ~~*^*~~

  Three weeks later Magellan arrived at the designated coordinates and dropped out of hyperspace. When Miss Dugan quietly reported signs of recent ion trails, there was a wave of instant regret from the crew for not getting there sooner.

  Captain Cooley closed his eyes in pain. “We can't help them. But we can stop whoever's coming next. Prep another buoy. Drop it when it's ready,” he said heavily. He felt old, terribly old and worn from Kathy's news.

  Mort had a buoy prepped and ready to go. The crew kicked it out of the ship within an hour of their arrival. It beeped over the emergency bands and then began its start-up. Solar arrays deployed, antenna masts telescoped outward, radiators unfolded, and microwave dishes were deployed. Mort's crew had stripped the satellite of its survey gear in an effort to save power and money.

  Once Ahab was certain the buoy was functioning as intended, Shelton turned them about and the ship jumped for Sol.

  ~~*^*~~

  Castill arrived at the hyperbridge entry point with a load of colonists bound for Antigua two days after Magellan's departure. “Are they serious?” Captain Lacross demanded. “This has got to be a hoax!” He shook his head. He'd been a skipper of Castill for twenty years. This was supposed to be his last trip before his retirement. He'd even tried to get his wife to emigrate with him but she'd refused. Her family was on Mars.

  He could understand that, so he had dropped the matter. Now this though he thought.

  “I don't know, sir. Do you want to take the chance to walk into a war zone? Especially with our cargo?” his XO asked.

  “Good point,” the captain muttered. “Turn us around. Head back to Sol. We'll get to the bottom of this, and heaven help anyone if this really is a damn hoax,” he muttered.

  At least Isabel would be happy that he was returning home early, he thought.

  ~~*^*~~

  “Exiting hyperspace now, sir,” Shelton said as the Selkie cut the hyperdrive and Magellan arrived in the outer edge of the Sol system. “We are home.”

  “Comm, as soon as we're clear of our energy discharge, get a signal out to the Space Marines and government,” Captain Cooley ordered.

  “Aye aye, sir,” Ahab replied as he entered the order in. Captain Cooley had already discussed the order and had recorded an initial message to the civilian government and military. Once the initial broadcast was sent, they'd follow it up with a secondary one with more details or wait until they were closer into the star system to transmit.

  There was some concern about how the news would be received. “Make sure you copy that broadcast to our own company. We need them to know too,” Captain Cooley amended.

  Ahab nodded. That message would entitle a higher risk of the message getting out to the public, but the captain had a point. The aliens could show up at any time.

  ~~*^*~~

  “We've received a signal from a survey and proto-terraforming ship. It's one of Little Green Men's ships, the Magellan. According to her itinerary, she was supposed to scout the southern part of the Rho sector. She's back early, sir; we're getting a direct message.” The tech looked up to the general. “Sir, I think you need to hear this,” she
said in a careful voice.

  “Is that why you called me?” General Taylor asked with a frown as the technician linked him in to the signal. He accessed the signal through is implants and double clicked the icon. He saw the wave forms of the transmission before an unfamiliar human face appeared before his eyes.

  “This is Captain Cooley of Magellan. While surveying the Rho sector, we encountered a hostile alien ship. Repeat, a hostile alien ship. This ship came after us, and it could have followed us to Pyrax. I am broadcasting this signal to the Space Marines, the LGM Company, and to the civilian Confederation government. Time is of the essence. More details will follow.”

  Roman hit the pause button to turn to stare at the tech. “What the frack is going on?” he demanded. She shrugged helplessly. “Is this a joke?”

  “No idea, sir.”

  ~~*^*~~

  Captain Cooley wasn't surprised when his broadcast warning was initially ignored, then a response came back. A terse order for the ship to go radio silent. He could just imagine the consternation from the government over the news. All sorts of nasty things popped into his head, like accidents befalling him, his crew, as well as his ship. He wasn't certain as to why they'd want to play ostrich and create a cover-up, but he decided after getting an email from the company's legal department that he had to play along for the moment.

  So much for free speech was the acid comment floating around the ship for days as the ship drifted to the inner solar system.

  It all came for naught though when a source within LGM leaked the news to the media. President Carlton was of course livid that the news had gotten out or so sources close to him said.

  Like in Pyrax the news generated instant panic, hysterics, and skepticism as the media clamored for confirmation and more information.

  The administration was more angered at the panic and disruption to the economy in the public than the actual threat. When the administration's publicist refused to comment, it only fueled the questions, as did Magellan's unresponsive behavior. Speculation in the media ran wild.