REV: REV Warriors Book 1

by T. R. Harris

  “Relax gentlemen,” said the voice through the speakers, with almost a tinge of humor in it. “The cables will now be deployed. This will take about five minutes. After that I will give you a heads up just before the sequence begins. You’ll find a comfort bag in the compartment near your right hand that can be fitted over your mouth. I would suggest you put it on while you have the chance. There is no shame in doing so.”

  Zac felt with his fingers until he found the compartment. Inside was an elaborate barf-bag with straps that could be fastened around his head. He closed compartment. He knew where it was; he would wait to see if he needed it.

  A few minutes later the pod was well away from the starship and seemingly hanging in space completely alone. The two-foot thick cable that was the whippet line disappeared into space after leaving the anchor struts. A thousand miles away, at the other end, Mike Brickey was resting in his own pod.

  “You ready, sergeant Brickey,” he said into his comm.

  “And if I said no, would you call off this crazy stunt…sir?” The team was still getting used to his new rank.

  “I’m told this will be like a carnival ride. You like carnival rides, don’t you, Mike?”

  “Not particularly. They always—”

  The conversation came to an abrupt end, replaced by an agonizing screech not unlike a REV’s primal scream. Zac watched on the HUD as the graphic representation of Mike’s pod raced toward his, with a thin white line connecting them. A moment later the pod shot past—at least in the graphic. It continued to move at incredible velocity, with the loop of the loose connecting line drawing ever tighter...until.

  Zac was shoved back into his cushion by what felt like the weight of a dozen African elephants standing on his chest. And then the sensation got worse.

  He sucked in as much air as he could into his collapsed lungs, experiencing such a rush of acceleration that he thought he would be crushed. His body cascaded, and not just a little, but enough to make him worry about losing control. Yet he was also thankful for the added energy in his body as his natural defensives fought against this new threat.

  The excruciating pressure continued for what seemed like hours, when in reality it was only about a minute. Then suddenly everything returned to normal, whatever that meant. Once the acceleration stopped, his body was weightless again.

  In a panic he focused on the heads-up display. His pod had stopped—relative to the other capsule—and now it was Mike’s that was moving again. Suddenly, the briefing he’d received from the techs made sense. The thousand-mile-long cable was designed to stretch, but in only one direction. It would expand until the lead pod reached the end and then recoil, pulling the trailing pod forward and past the first one, until it became the lead and reached the limit of the cord. Then the process would repeat over and over. Zac had been told the speed of the whips would increase for a while, until the laws of motion slowly took over. Whippets were not perpetual-motion machines, but pretty darn close. They were so efficient in their operation that they loss very little momentum from the constant stretching and contracting of the cable. But eventually the initial energy boost from the launch would be consumed and the whips would become less-dramatic. Eventually the strange contraption would come to a stop. By then, Zac and his team will have disconnected.

  But for now, Zac took the opportunity of the brief lull between whips to pull out the barf-bag and hurriedly fasten it to his head. He finished not a moment too soon, before the pod was pulled off again through space, just like a carnival ride—the one that shot its occupants into a warm summer sky using a huge sling-shot-like device.

  A few seconds later, Zac was wondering how he would dispose of the rapidly filling barf-bag once all the whipping ended. It would be hell having to live with the smell for the duration of his time in the pod.

  “Excuse me, Lieutenant Murphy,” said the detached voice in the speakers again. “Did I neglect to give you a heads up about the first whip? Forgive me, but I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear you have reached your break-off point. The locking brackets will detach automatically. Enjoy the rest of your journey, Mister Murphy.”

  “Wait a minute!” Zac yelled out. “Just who the hell are you?”

  “The name is Cain, sir, petty officer second class Adam Cain.” said the voice, with a verbal smirk. “Detaching now. Please maintain radio silence with command for the remainder of the mission. Over and out.”

  The huge set of metal claws broke away and drifted off into space. Zac maintained visual on them, as they reflected the light of the glowing red, green and yellow nebula filling the vast expanse of space surrounding the pod.

  He activated the pod-to-pod comm link. “Report in. Everyone okay?”

  A series of moans sounded though the speakers, interrupted by one emphatic: “Fucking-a! Let’s do that again!”

  It was Donovan Ross, the former rodeo cowboy from Lubbock, Texas.

  “Are you crazy?” Angus asked. “I didn’t get my comfort bag on in time and now my capsule is a bloody mess.”

  “Seriously?” Mike Brickey asked.

  “No, Mike, it’s just an expression. But the interior is covered in globs of yellow, smelly…stuff.”

  “Okay, knock it off,” Zac ordered. “Form up on me. The Antaere ship should be arriving anytime. Be alert. In the meantime, see if you can find an operating manual for these pods on the shipboard computer. There must be some way to jettison waste.”

  “Are you speaking for the rest of us, lieutenant,” Kyle Johnson asked, “or for yourself?”

  “For the wellbeing of my men, of course. I came through the whips with flying colors.”

  “Yeah, right…sir.”

  “There are contacts, Insir,” said the weapons officer.

  “Identify.”

  “Human, numbering twenty-two.”

  “Intentions?” asked the ship’s lead Antaere, the First Insir.

  “Weapons are charging, they intend to attack.”

  The officer turned to his comm technician. “Inform the Rowin. Have his ship evacuated from the group. Send two escorts with it. Desnic, prepare for engagement, standard formation.”

  “Three ships breaking away, Captain,” reported the tac officer aboard the fast-attack ship Churchill. “The others are forming up. Looks like our evil plan is working.”

  “Okay, Mister Connors, let’s make it look convincing,” said Navy Commander Paul Papa. “First squadron, commence your run. Shields on full, and try not to get your asses shot off. Remember, this is just for show.”

  A line of ten warcraft shot away from the main formation before breaking into twos, a lead and a wingman. They closed on the escort fleet, which now numbered twenty-seven after the huge VIP ship and two others moved away, back into the nebula.

  The attack ships were of a delta-wing design, very similar to the Antaere ships, but about a tenth their size. The design came from the aliens, just as did gravity drive technology. Yet being Humans, modifications had been made. Choosing speed over firepower, the Human D-wings had only one weapon—a powerful plasma pulse cannon. It was meant not only to destroy enemy warcraft, but also to disrupt gravity well formation. Even if the Antaere wanted to dip back into a well and disappear, they couldn’t. The Qwin had the same technology, so the battle was joined in normal space, until one or the other opponents bolted out of range or were destroyed.

  Rapid pulses of energy streaked out from the Human ships, forming a brilliant line of incoming fire. The Qwin ships were ready, and the bolts slammed into energized absorption shields. Return fire raked the line of Human starships. Being smaller and relying more on speed than strong shielding, two of the buzzships fell out of the line with their shields down. Captain Papa couldn’t risk keeping them in the fight. One clean energy bolt would be enough to destroy the fighters.

  He held back sending in replacements. The purpose of the attack was to delay the Qwin, not to win the battle.

  “Any word from Lieutenant Murphy?” he asked the c
omm officer.

  “Yes sir; they’re having trouble locating the Antaere starship.”

  “Why?”

  “Unknown sir.”

  Gravity Well: An effect of the Antaere gravity space drive involving the creation of an event horizon. The well is in fact created in all directions around the singularity. The ‘well’ effect is from the vantage point of the observer. Since the well is created in all direction, this tends to increase the effectiveness of the drive, causing a ‘shrinking’ of the distance in front of the generator as it moves through space, magnifying the effect. The result is a ‘jumping’ through space at many times the speed of light.

  A Star Travel Primer, Author: Dr. Jonathan Aronson. 2nd Edition, 2070

  21

  “Where the hell is it?” Zac asked no one in particular. Reports had come in informing his team that the prince’s ship had left the escort fleet and entered a shallow gravity well a few moments later. It should have bolted back about a light-year and reappeared somewhere close to where the team waited. But nothing.

  “Wait,” said Angus Price. “I have contacts—three of them—but damn, they’re about nine thousand miles away.”

  As the small cluster of six capsules drifted in space—five REV pods plus the one for the weapons—their momentum was helping them close on the contacts, but without setting any speed records. Each pod was equipped with canisters of compressed oxygen or methane for maneuvering. Detectors aboard starships were extremely sensitive and could pick up even minute traces of standard chemical exhaust. It would stand out like a lighthouse within the wispy clouds of the nebula, letting the aliens know they had company. The maneuvering gas in the pods was designed to mask their presence.

  The problem is they only had so much gas per pod, to be used for the final approach and docking with the Rowin’s ship, not for long-distance propulsion.

  “Move over to me and lock on. We’ll use a blast from one of the pods to get all of us moving.”

  “We’ll need another to slow down,” said Kyle.

  “I know. Hopefully we’ll have enough left over make contact. Hurry, Captain Papa can’t keep the Qwin tied up forever.”

  “Sir, they’ve located the royal. Distance…nine thousand miles.”

  “Nine thousand! How long will it take them to get there?”

  “I don’t have that information.”

  “Find out!”

  Papa’s job was one of balance. If he persisted with the attack, the Qwin may decide to call off the trip to Iz’zar and return to Antara. That would end the mission before it even got started. And if he broke off his attack before Murphy could dock with the royal starship, it would have the same effect. He had to give the REV time without scaring off the Qwin.

  Kyle was the geek of the team, and he did a quick calculation. “Nine thousand miles in twenty-nine minutes. If we go faster, it will take more gas to slow us down.”

  Zac grimaced. Twenty-nine minutes for a space battle wasn’t that long, not considering the distances involved. Yet it would seem like an eternity to the Qwin, as they pondered whether or not to call off the trip. It would also be excruciatingly long for the REVs, not know if their mission would be a go or an abort. He let Captain Papa in on the bad news. He wasn’t happy, but told Zac he would do his best.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Papa yelled through the comm.

  “Sorry sir, a bolt got through.”

  “If we destroy too many of the escort ships, they’re turn for home and the mission will be a bust.”

  “I understand, sir. It won’t happen again.”

  Papa slumped in his command chair. “That’s okay, Ensign Rozoff; I know how odd this attack is playing out.”

  “It’s okay, sir.”

  Already three of the escort ships had been destroyed. Six of Papa’s ships had withdrawn from the line of fire, but were still intact. The Humans had pulled back out of range, as if reassessing their strategy. This could only go on for so long. Even a standoff would result in the Antaere withdrawing. They were on escort duty, not a strategic mission. It wouldn’t take much for them to call it a day and simply reschedule the Rowin’s trip to Iz’zar.

  But there was one thing that would keep the aliens engaged.

  “Ensign Rozoff,” Papa said over the comm.

  “Yessir.”

  “I need you and Lieutenant Delarosa to prepare to abandon ship.”

  “Could you repeat that, sir?”

  “I need the two of you to aim your ships at the enemy line and then bail out. We need to give the Qwin a victory, something to keep them in the fight. If they feel they’re getting the upper hand, they’ll stick around just for the thrill of killing Humans.”

  “We’ll have to abandon ship close to their shields to make it convincing, maybe even take a few bolts on our forward screens.”

  “Agreed. You know you’ll be out there for a while, until after the Qwin are gone?”

  “Yessir.”

  The unspoken truth in the conversation was that when the Qwin activated their gravity drives at the conclusion of the battle, the two Human pilots could be sucked into the singularities. Or they could be targeted by the Antaere ships and blasted just for sport. The odds of them being rescued was less than fifty-fifty.

  “Set your run, Len,” ordered Captain Papa. “And good luck.”

  “Thank you, sir. Lining up now. Engaging….”

  Zac couldn’t see the enemy ship, but he knew he was close. He watched the HUD as his small string of pods approached, the scale on the screen showing the two contacts closing at alarming speed.

  “Fire your jets, Don,” he said to Donovan Ross.

  “It will clean me out.”

  “Understood.”

  Zac felt the rapid deceleration, which lasted only a couple a seconds. The cluster of pods was still moving, but much slower. The huge bulk of the royal starship loomed large to the right and down slightly.

  The planners had taken into consideration the danger of the pods being detected not only by their maneuvering exhaust, but also by proximity scans of approaching objects, be they natural or man-made. That’s why the pods were coated with a radar absorbing material that would render them virtually invisible to the scans. Even still, the original plan was for the tiny pods to approach individually, leaving even a smaller signature, rather than as a cluster. Zac had no way of knowing if his small fleet was visible to the Qwin. He would find out soon enough.

  Zac now used his own supply of gas—his happened to be methane—to guide the string of pods toward the massive tail end of the Antaere starship. As was the common design, this one was also delta-shaped which meant it was a lot larger in back than in front. Scale was often distorted by the absolute clarity of space, and as they drifted closer, the sheer size of the craft became apparent.

  This was a ship designed for the second-in-command of a starfaring civilization, one based on bloodlines and backed by religious authority. And it showed. The tiny pods were lost in the expanse of the superstructure, which included skyscraper-size modules and nodes attached seemingly helter-skelter along the hull. Zac’s HUD identified the static electricity nullifiers which the pods had been built to mimic. During the briefings, they looked to be respectable size, consisting of arching stacks of ten cylinders each. Now in scale to the rest the ship, they were barely noticeable.

  Zac’s supply of methane ran out, leaving only Angus and Kyle’s pods to get them into position. The weapons pod was unmanned, so it carried no supply of gas.

  Again, the original plan had called for each pod to attach itself to one of two nullifier units. Now all six pods would have to attach to one. That made the possibility of them being noticed during a video inspection of the exterior hull more likely. It was a chance they had to take.

  Zac checked the mission clock. It was going on thirty-five minutes since he’d told Captain Papa twenty-nine to reach the target. With his pod so close to the alien ship, he didn’t dare make a wormhole link with the stri
ke force. Once they were secure, a burst signal would be sent out, a brief energy spike that was common within nebulae. It would appear innocent enough to the Qwin, but would be the signal for Papa to break off his attack.

  The pods moved closer, slowly…but not slowly enough.

  The cluster struck the metal of the hull with a long shudder that reverberated through Zac’s capsule. It had to echo through the aft section of the alien craft as well.

  “Hurry, lock us down,” he commanded through the shortwave comm of the pods.

  “I’m doing the best I can,” said Kyle’s frustrated voice.

  “Sir. I’m doing the best I can, sir,” Zac corrected.

  “Permission to say ‘fuck you,’ sir.”

  “Permission denied.”

  The friendly banter relaxed the REV enough for him to engage the magnetics, and the sustained vibration faded away. The pods were locked down, turned with their backside out, and the darkened viewports facing towards the hull and the other cylinders that made up the nullifying unit. But Zac’s pod was at an angle to the rest of the cylinders, meaning the entire string of pods would be the same.

  “We’re out of alignment,” he said into the comm.

  “Couldn’t help it,” said Kyle Johnson. “Let’s just hope no one’s paying too close attention.”

  “Roger that,” Zac said. He keyed the burst signal.

  Victory…of sorts!

  The aliens may be gone, but they haven’t left. They still occupy over a dozen worlds, many very close to the Solar System. But already we’re receiving requests for help from these worlds, help in freeing the inhabitants from the tyranny of the Antaere. You can help. Any donation you can afford will help us in our efforts to save intelligent creatures like us. We’re a community now. A community among the stars!