Border Worlds (United Star Systems Book 1)

by J Malcolm Patrick

  “Incoming visual communication, unknown location, Commander,” Alvarez said.

  The main bridge monitor lit up. It displayed an image of a man clad in a dark jump suit. Not a single hair out of place, and a slick part to the side, almost a replica of Ben James, but this couldn’t be him. This man didn’t have a hole in his forehead.

  “Poor, Commander Rayne,” the unknown speaker said, the frame showed Lieutenant Delaine by his side. “First you lost your ship due to incompetence, discharged and disgraced, you colluded with Imperial agents and separatists to bomb Atlas, your own home. Now you’re about to witness the destruction of Atlas once we’re done with your fleet.”

  “You’re as bad a story teller as the other one. Who the hell are you now?”

  “You know my name. I am Ben James.” He had that same fixed maniacal expression the late Ben James had.

  “Ben James is on Atlas with a hole in his forehead.”

  “We are all Ben James, Commander. Why not ask my associate Supreme Commander Shepherd? He’ll be in range soon enough. The victors write history, Rayne. Our version will go something like this: your father was about to lose power to the separatists. If he couldn’t rule Atlas, no one would. He enlisted your aid to conspire with the Imperials to raze the planet. Even official Fleet record has you discharged. That ship is Fleet property and you used it to attack defenseless ships along the border.”

  Aaron slumped into the command seat, the color drained from his face, his legs weak. Was Supreme Commander Shepherd one of these so-called associates? Had they manipulated him this whole time?

  “Ah, Rayne,” the new Ben James said. “It’s making sense isn’t it? Did it not seem strange they chose you to meet a separatist contact who had information about a conspiracy within the United Systems? And he just happened to be your father? We needed to know what he knew, and how fortunate for us, all of you will perish here today. First you in space and then your father on Atlas.”

  Aaron looked up. “70 years of peace and it all comes down to this. A few clinically insane, delusional and forgettable people ignite a war. To what end?”

  “Agents in the Empire jumped at the chance to split the USS and possibly ignite a civil war. Surely, they hoped other member worlds might follow the Border Worlds if they declared independence. Our careful maneuvering has lured an Imperial fleet to Atlas. No one will believe they are not responsible for razing the planet. The Imperial fleet can stay and watch if they wish, they’ll be next. We only intended to lure their response, we’ve positioned ultra-loyalists on Shepherd’s ships and they will raze the planet. The Border Worlds will move on without Atlas. A necessary loss to seal the resolve of the USS, to go all the way and not stop at Hosque this time.”

  “I think you will find the fiddler has been played,” Aaron said. “Elements within the Imperial Navy have long prepared for this day, perhaps before you even put the wheels of your madness into motion. An advanced fleet of Imperial warships awaits you out there, and they intend to raze Atlas themselves.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Rayne. You will be dead and we will have our war. We will obliterate the Baridian Empire this time. There will be no stopping our ships. We will leave the Empire a smoldering ruin as we should have 70 years ago.”

  It took all of his strength not to look away from Ben James and give him the satisfaction. Was Aaron that easy to manipulate? Could loyalty blind the most honest and good-natured men and turn them into pawns? It felt like he was now a pawn in the conspiracy to destroy the Empire. He’d believed in Shepherd, the entire Fleet did. And it seemed he was the scapegoat.

  Another voice cut into the channel.

  “Lieutenant Delaine, I’ve heard enough. End this.”

  Aaron stood and stared wide-eyed at the screen as Rachael­, who had stood silent behind Ben James, drew a pulse pistol and shot the man in the back. He slumped to the deck—stunned.

  She turned back to the monitor. “Our agents will secure the ship momentarily, Supreme Commander,” she said. “We have the files, and the names of the other conspirators, if I may, sir,” she paused. “Aaron, I hope you give me the opportunity to explain after it’s over.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Rayne,” Shepherd said, “I’m sorry the fleet is late. Regarding the dribble Ben James just fed you on the coincidences of your assignment, I have one thing to say which I know you will appreciate—truth is stranger than fiction son—coincidences aside. I am no one's pawn although all copies of Ben James were convinced I was. No time to explain now. We have a battle to win. We have to assume The Imperial fleet out there is loyal to Lord Praetor Bannon and we know his objective is Atlas. We may also assume the Imperials are operating without the authority of the Emperor, but that doesn’t mean their lasers will be any less powerful. Now enough babbling. Form up on our left flank. Keep it solid. Captain Rhineheart will try to punch through their centerline. Be ready to assist our forward screen if he buckles.”

  Shepherd wasn’t with Ben James. The complexity of Shepherd’s operation baffled Aaron, but a renewed purpose filled him.

  Color returned to his face and his voice found strength. “Understood, sir. I wish to recommend Phoenix accompany the center, when you give the order for them to begin their maneuvers. We have some unique abilities which might prove to be a force multiplier in the brawl.”

  Shepherd shook his head on the monitor. “Your addition to the offense is unquestionably invaluable. However, I’m worried about being outflanked and may need you to plug any holes in our defenses. So don’t do anything without my order, Rayne.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, SC, Rayne out.”

  Flaps turned. “I don’t get it, Commander, why didn’t that weirdo and his buddies just bomb Atlas himself? Why enlist Imperial elements at all?”

  “Because,” Lee answered. “Any subsequent investigation would reveal traces of the weapon used, and it would be clear it was ours.”

  “Then,” Flaps said. “If the Imperial fleet wasn’t actually about to attack, how could James and his associates raze the planet with a United Fleet, and spin it to the United Systems it was the Imperials?”

  “This far out from the core worlds,” Alvarez said. “The only information which will reach the Core is what his ‘associates’ send. There wouldn’t be an independent investigation after an attack of that magnitude.”

  “Let’s focus on the now, people,” Aaron said. “We have a battle to win and a war to prevent.”

  A chorus of “aye sirs” followed and Aaron keyed his headset to the Fleet.

  Each Commander had the ability to listen in on the Fleet frequency. Each wing deployed into squadrons, and only the wing commanders communicated, to maintain synchronized maneuvers. The fleet commander transmitted orders to the wing commanders, who would issue them to squadron commanders who passed them onto their squadrons.

  “All wings, target Imperial center formation. All missile batteries, volley on my command—Fire!”

  On each command from Shepherd, The United Fleet blasted a harrowing amount of havoc heavy missiles towards the center of the enemy front-line formation. The “Mad Dog” must have hoped he could quickly even this engagement or perhaps outright win it with a knockout blow, using the prototype high-speed ordnance. It was likely the Imperials had no idea they existed. Hell, he didn’t even know they existed until one destroyed his ship. It was a gamble. If they waited too late to use it to their advantage, there might not be much of a United Fleet left. However, declaring their hand early came with its own set of disadvantages—the United Fleet didn’t have an inexhaustible inventory of the new missiles.

  The initial results of the missile salvo suggested firing them now was the right choice. Minutes after the missile assault, a dozen Imperial front-line ships exploded. As the opposing fleets closed, the light lag would be negligible, and they’d receive telemetry almost real-time. A dozen more heavy cruisers behind the escort screen faltered from the formation bristling with heavy damage. The voll
ey also struck several battleships, but it would take many more to stop those behemoths.

  Flaps pumped his fist. “Right on!”

  The image almost made him laugh but Aaron had to address his young pilot. “As you were, Ensign. Keep it to yourself.”

  “Sorry,” Miroslav said, lowering his head.

  Alvarez raised his voice an octave. “Commander, large energy build-up throughout the Imperial fleet.”

  Explosions rippled between the two fleets as unseen beams of lasers destroyed most of the second and third missile salvoes. The Imperials adapted to the unknown weapon, which inflicted carnage on their front-line ships, and used their own advanced lasers as precision point defense. He didn’t know Quintus well, but somehow Aaron suspected he was responsible for the quick reaction throughout the Imperial fleet. Quintus just had the aura of someone who would be a brilliant tactician. The Imperial Lord Commander wasn’t rash and compromised by emotional situations. Just calm and calculating. He respected and loathed his counterpart at the same time. Quintus didn’t want a war, but he didn’t want his people slaughtered either.

  Damn you Quintus.

  Wing commanders reported in. The front-line screening frigates were moving to engage, following orders from Shepherd.

  Rhineheart commanding Delta Wing led the charge. “Delta, stay sharp for laser strikes. Open the formation wider. The longer those beams contact us the more damage we’ll sustain.”

  Ten minutes later, both forward elements of each fleet began a hard deceleration. “Fleet, this is Rhineheart—Delta Wing—we’re now one minute until engagement range with hostile contacts.”

  Acknowledgements only clogged voice comms, so simple triggered communication clicks informed the sender the message was received and understood.

  Explosions erupted on four United Fleet ships in Delta Wing. They faltered and dropped out of formation, adrift. Moments later, they exploded. Lasers left little room for reaction when closing to within one light-second. They also had a greater maximum effective range compared to railguns. Delta Wing would have to get in close. The tactical display registered the heat of the beams and overlaid them on the screen.

  The devastating firepower flashed on sensors in the dozens as they stretched from the Imperial front-line formation and wreaked havoc on the approaching United Fleet starships.

  Rhineheart cut in. “All squadrons engage evasive maneuvers. We’re quick gentlemen, let’s get unpredictable. Zig and zag.”

  Zig and Zag. Aaron recalled hearing it before. Twentieth century sea-going surface warships used this technique to mitigate attacks from submarines, never steaming along a straight path. Interesting that it proved useful centuries later to mitigate the laser weapons deployed by the Imperial ships. It should be an effective strategy. How long could they fire them before they needed to recharge the capacitors? The more they missed or less contact they made with United Fleet ship hulls, the less damage they would inflict.

  By the time they closed ranks, the Imperials melted another six front-line ships. It could have been worse. Now the first brawl of the day played out as the remainder of both fleets idled.

  “Delta, this is Beta Wing. We’re taking a heavy pounding here. The Seatac and Majestic are disabled and the Valiant’s heavily damaged . . . we won’t be able to hold this flank.”

  Rhineheart responded. “Gamma, keep pushing. We’re smashing them on our flank. Delta will reinforce Beta.”

  The front-line ships transitioned to a brawling skirmish. However, they still attempted to maintain loose formations to enhance their collective offensive and defensive projection, while mitigating enemy attempts to do the same. Gamma Wing battled along the right flank of the skirmish while Beta pushed along the left flank and Delta pushed in the center. If the flanking Imperial front-line ships overran Beta, they could turn the tide of the other ongoing skirmishes along the center. Front-line ship’s firepower concentrated on their bows and made easy targets for flanking maneuvers. If you left the minimum distance safety threshold of a ragtag formation and over reached, you could become a prime target for a missile volley from an entire enemy squadron. And separated from the immediate cover of your own formation’s unified and coordinated point defense, it might prove an unfortunate outcome for an over eager warship captain. Sometimes captains found themselves lured by a weakened or isolated enemy ship and sacrificed positioning for a killing strike.

  In this brawl, if an Imperial laser missed, it could hit one of their own ships. That’s what Gamma and Delta Wings exploited. Hard evasive forced inaccuracy and meant laser fire might strike other Imperial ships. In contrast, the United Fleet ships could remotely detonate inaccurate missile ordnance before they posed a threat to friendly vessels. However, they’d have to be careful with railgun barrages.

  Aaron rubbed his eyes as he focused on his tactical monitor and listened to the Fleet frequency. The reinforced Beta Wing overwhelmed the Imperial formation, delivering a pounding, and pushed back the Imperial front-line inflicting heavy damage. Shepherd pressed the advantage and ordered remaining front-line ships to engage.

  “Red and Blue squadrons get in there and hammer them. Push for the center, and break their defensive line. We’re beginning our forward thrust to join you.”

  Aaron moved to Alvarez’s station to study some raw data. He didn’t like what he saw.

  He kept his voice low. “Vee, some of those Imperial ships are pulling back even with light damage. Our front-lines are chasing them closer to the heavy ships.”

  “Isn’t that the goal?” Vee asked. “Break the center line and scatter their fleet and command structure? Then just systematically bombard them from all flanks, with more ordnance than their point defenses can handle?”

  Once the defensive lines broke, a fleet could no longer rely on its unified point defense to defend against large volleys comprising hundreds of missiles from an opposing enemy fleet. It was difficult to defend against an advancing fleet formation whose defenses were still intact. Holding position once your own main defensive line shattered would ensure an utter blood bath. Sometimes the only option available to a weakened fleet was a strategic withdrawal. The ultimate goal to keep moving while defending against hails of missile volleys as they tried to regroup and reestablish a defensive line.

  “Normally, but you don’t give space this easily. Many of the retreating ships’ power signatures remain above fifty percent which suggests they aren’t badly damaged. Giving space without fighting for it will only ensure a complete route.”

  Aaron opened a direct channel to Shepherd. “SC, this is Rayne, respond please.”

  “I’m really up to my ears here, Commander,” came the reply.

  “I understand, sir. But something isn’t right with the enemy front-line movements. They shouldn’t be falling back so easily, some of them haven’t even sustained significant damage.”

  “I’ve considered the possibility it’s a trap, Rayne. I’ve been doing this a long time. It’s also an opportunity. Stay off the channel or I’ll lock you out.”

  Then the unthinkable happened.

  “Massive energy discharge from the Imperial fleet!” Vee said.

  Aaron’s eyes widened as he monitored the readings.

  The once idle Imperial battleships, like their counter parts in the United Fleet shouldn’t fire into a mix of friendly and hostile ships. Now, after luring the remaining United Fleet front-line frigates out into the skirmish, the entire Imperial Armada unleashed their devastating firepower on the brawling frigates.

  Entire battleship and heavy cruiser squadrons unleashed a murderous hail of matter/antimatter torpedoes into the dueling Imperial and United Fleet frigates decimating them. The Imperial heavy ships quickly dispatched any surviving United Fleet front-line ships with a renewed barrage of laser beams.

  Twenty-five frigates crippled or destroyed in less than two minutes, yet at least half of the retreating Imperial front-line ships survived. The Imperials had sent forward the older frigates
as cannon fodder to lure the United Fleet frigates into range.

  Miroslav stared open mouthed at the tactical image. Sudden screams erupted across open comms as useless distress calls were cut off when ships exploded. Brief screams of men burning and suffocating permeated the bridge. If the Imperial ships advanced now with their lasers and numerical superiority, nothing could defend against it.

  “Imperial fleet is advancing,” Alvarez said. “Their lasers have further effective range than our railguns, not to mention limitless ammo. They’ll slaughter us just by wearing us down from outside our range. Our missiles will never penetrate their defense screen. Imperial front-line ships are merging into formation. Their heavy flanks are branching outwards. Looks like they want to encircle us and negate any potential barrage of missiles they can’t handle.”

  Shepherd’s voice came through.

  “Alpha Wing, break formation and engage those flanking Imperial front-line ships on our starboard vectors before they outmaneuver us. Beta Wing, take the Imperial ships vectoring in around our port quarters. Delta Wing will accompany our battleships and heavy cruisers. Flank speed for the center of the enemy formation. We don’t stop until we can read the numbers on their hulls. We’ll take heavy losses getting into range, but once we’re in, we’ll make them sorry they left Imperial space.”

  The Imperials had already widened their numerical advantage. And even worse, it seemed the advanced ships they brought to the fight were making their presence felt. It was time Aaron made his presence felt. The Imperial fleet commander must feel the battle is going well. But it was about to take a turn.

  “Command,” Aaron said. “This is Phoenix. I’m breaking off, SC. I’m going to rattle them from inside, before the bulk of our fleet gets into it.”