Shadow Space Chronicles 1: The Fallen Race

by Kal Spriggs

  The two corvettes and single destroyer that the force encountered had attempted surrender. Squadron Commander Kleigh saw little to gain in the capture of human pirates and mercenaries, and a potential for live gunnery practice in the engagement. Afterward, the escape pods and individual humans in their vacuum suits had proven of further use in as a drill for the missile and fighter interceptor gun crews.

  The engagement would provide a marked improvement in discipline amongst the non-Chxor conscripts as well, Squadron Commander Kleigh knew. They obviously saw the fate of those who opposed the Chxor and would not wish to join them.

  If Kleigh were so inferior as to feel emotions he would have been pleased at the outcome and efficiency. And, after his crew had searched the enemy ships for intelligence, they had found exactly what they wanted on their sensor computer. The enemy ships had seen his target, and their computers knew what star system. He would backtrack the course of these renegade humans and soon he would find more.

  Granted, it was only a scrap of recording. A bit of voice which Kleigh recognized as Captain Lucius Giovanni and sensor readings which matched the War Shrike. Still, that was enough to tell Kleigh that his squadron was on the correct track. He had technically exceeded his initial orders to engage Nova Roma forces on the periphery of their Empire. In truth, he knew, he had gone beyond their borders. Still, this latest encounter showed that he had continued a logical progression. His Fleet Commander had yet to order him to return, and he still served the efforts of the Benevolence Council and the Chxor Empire.

  The efficiency involved in the service of their interests and to achieve the restoration of good order to the universe in the destruction of Lucius Giovanni and the War Shrike is most excellent, Kleigh thought. Best off all, to achieve it soon would be the epitome of efficiency.

  ***

  Lucius wasn't sure what to make of the Contractor's curt request for him to meet with her privately at her office. When he found her red-faced and pacing, he still didn't know.

  “Fortress Faraday,” the Contractor snarled. “The Conservatives are calling a convention; they want to ‘see to the gross violation of the Contract.’ They’re rallying behind the call of ‘Fortress Faraday,’ calling for us to sever all ties with the outside. The fools think we can build down our naval presence, and buy off anyone who comes through! They don’t understand anything!”

  Lucius blinked at the vehemence in the Contractor’s voice. “I wondered what you called me down here for. Anything I can do to help?”

  The Contractor rolled her eyes in apology. “You can’t do a thing, I’m afraid. I wanted to warn you in person. While you have finally gotten things in order upstairs, the shit will be flying down here.”

  Lucius raised an eyebrow.

  The Contractor sighed, “I know a bit about how difficult things must have been for you, and that was with my unofficial help. Right now, the Conservatives will be pulling out all stops to prove that I sympathize with you; I can’t afford to help you without losing control down here. I’ve got to keep control down here or they’ll throw away all the progress I've made over the past five years.”

  “I see,” Lucius nodded. “I’ll do my best to keep things quiet upstairs.”

  The Contractor nodded and for once she seemed to relax. “Honestly, it has been good to deal with someone who knows what they’re doing.” She straightened her spine. “But now to business. Get up there and at all costs avoid anything that could put things in a panic down here.”

  Lucius’s comlink began to ring and a second later the Contractor’s did as well. They both went for them. They listened for a moment, Lucius to the bud in his ear, the contractor to her handheld.

  They looked at each other for a moment. “Madam, I believe that we have a problem.”

  The Contractor nodded, her face pale as the person on the other end continued to reel off a list of ships.

  Lucius didn’t need a categorical listing, he heard enough in the four words. “Chxor task force inbound.”

  ***

  Lucius arrived at the shuttle pad, and stopped in surprise to see his brother in law at the shuttle ramp. “Reese, when did you--”

  “I’m leaving.”

  Lucius noted the two duffel bags at the man’s feet, “You can’t be serious.”

  “There’s a Chxor fleet coming in, right?”

  “Yes…”

  “I’m going to stay here and fight.” Reese said. “I don’t expect an Academy failure and a disgraceful traitor to understand that, but that’s what I’m going to do.”

  Lucius bit back a retort and spoke slowly and levelly, “Reese, we’re going to fight them. We’re going to do our best to get them to follow us. I need you—“

  “And I needed Alanis. You left her to die.” Reese’s cold voice cut him off. “I’ll stay here. Odds are, the Chxor will win, as they’ve won before. And then they’ll come here. This gets me away from you and the opportunity to kill Chxor.”

  “Dammit, Reese, you should still be in sickbay—“

  “I’ll manage.” Reese looked away. “Anything else?”

  Lucius clenched his jaw, and stiffly came to attention, “Commander Giovanni-Leone, you are dismissed.”

  Reese returned the salute, jaw clenched. “I stand dismissed.” He grabbed both duffel bags. Lucius watched him stagger under the weight.

  “Good hunting,” the bitter man muttered grudgingly as he passed.

  ***

  “Sir, it looks like four Dreadnoughts, and twelve cruisers,” Doko informed Lucius as he stepped onto the bridge. “I’d say it’s the same group as hit us at Venture, same group that was after the convoy.”

  Lucius nodded, “I’d hoped that the jump would throw them off.” It was impossible to track a jump through shadow space. “They must have searched every system in the sector.” He studied the information on his console and then turned to Cato Naevius, “How many fighters do we have available?”

  The Nova Roma Harasser fighter-bomber carried the largest missile capacity of any conventional human fighter. One fighter could carry up to twelve conventional Hunter missiles, useful for killing fighters and missiles as well as larger ships when used in large numbers. Alternatively, they could also carry three of the larger Pilum ship-killer missiles. Those missiles carried sixty-megaton fusion warheads. They also mounted pulse lasers for a close engagement against fighters or missiles. A normal squadron of six fighters could unleash hell on any type of enemy.

  The Harasser’s versatility in combat load-outs had done much for Nova Roma’s predominance in human space, until the coming of the Chxor. Which meant Lucius wanted his fighters ready to unleash against the enemy.

  Naevius paused in thought. “Second Squadron is off training with the Gebneyr , between the fighters down on the surface and the others on patrol…” He sighed, “Well, really all we’ve got is First squadron on board, Captain.”

  Lucius winced, and then grinned ruefully. “So much for those plans, I suppose I should have kept at least two squadrons on station here, but…” He shook his head. “Alright, we obviously can’t fight these ones head on, and from the course they’re laying, they’ll easily detect the local communications within a few hours.” The Chxor arrival in the outer system meant that the dense magnetic fields of the outer gas giants would at least mask the local radio broadcasts somewhat. Short of a high frequency burst or military grade broadcast, the Chxor would have to clear the nearest gas giant and that would take them some time, he knew. He thought for a moment. “Our best hope is to draw them off in a pursuit, convince them we’re still heavily damaged. Have the Gebneyr and our fighters head back here to take up a defensive position, take out the picket they leave in-system. They can use the sensor shadow of the gas giants and their moons to mask their movement” He looked over at Anthony Doko, “Plan Gamma Three?”

  Doko winced, but gave him a nod.

  He looked around the bridge at the new faces that stood at the old stations. He restrained a sigh.
This was suicide in all but name, the fly baiting the bull. “Plot your course for Gamma Three on this little joyride.”

  ***

  “I understand fully the orders you give me, fellow warrior, and I shall carry them out,” Burbeg roared into the comm. As he turned away to begin giving orders, Lucius thumbed off the screen and turned his attention to the oncoming ships.

  There were four dreadnoughts. They swept in-system arrogantly, escorted by a dozen light cruisers. The cruisers deployed so as to intercept any fire on the dreadnoughts with their own hulls. Lucius never understood what went through the minds of the Chxor when they decided to make only the two classes of warships. It did make a sort of weird logic that mass-produced defense ships could screen mass produced attack ships. He knew --from experience of tearing apart the unwieldy formation-- that it didn’t always work. The Chxor just thought too slowly and reacted too slowly to change. With two wings of fighters and his own ship to lure the enemy around, Lucius could bleed the enemy dry, smash their offensive ships to scrap and then run slashing attacks against the largely unarmed cruisers.

  He sighed, though. Lucius possessed only three full squadrons, and didn’t have the time. If that task force cleared the gas giants they would pick up the civilian transmissions. Chxor doctrine from that point would take them directly to the planet. The Chxor would assist the populace in seeing things their way. Perhaps they would only use threats, but probably they would utilize nerve gas attacks or tactical nukes and swiftly turn it into a Chxor outpost. From there they would begin to 'process' the populace and import Chxor colonists to replace them.

  “Fifteen seconds till full power to engines.” That was the calm call from Lt. Meridan, at the engineering station. Commander Harbach was in the engine room.

  “Main weapons up in ten seconds.” Lieutenant Beeson announced from his station.

  “Life Support and Medical systems online and stable,” Dr. Varene murmured. She had taken the position as the ship's doctor, a slot which had been empty for over a year. Lucius had been impressed with her background and experience and she'd been of tremendous benefit in treatment of his injured crew thus far.

  “Communications and Electromagnetic Countermeasure systems fully operational.” Lieutenant Palmer drawled. He was a very adept user of both systems, but his nasal twang drove Lucius to distraction at odd times, such as when he was worrying about an upcoming engagement. He'd served in the Centauri Confederation fleet, and claimed he came from Earth, though Lucius felt certain that his accent had to be an affectation.

  “Astrogation and Helm at standby, damage control teams are ready, and all Battle Support systems are standing by, Captain.” Doko said with crisp perfection.

  “Alright,” Lucius took a deep breath, preparing to “let’s be—“

  “Sir, intercepting a message to the Chxor!” Lieutenant Palmer snapped. “Originating from Faraday, I’m patching it in, sir.”

  “…again would like to welcome you to the Faraday System. We understand you are in pursuit of a pirate vessel known as the War Shrike. It has looted our world and now lies in orbit at these coordinates-“

  Lucius overrode the signal, “Find me the origin of the broadcast. Jam the frequency.” He brought up a line to the office of the Contractor. “What are your people doing down there, someone is broadcasting a message to the Chxor, if they’ve heard—”

  The Contractor shook her head in resignation. “The Shareholders met in an emergency meeting. They’ve deposed me. They have decided to bargain with the Chxor, for Faraday’s surrender.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat, “The fools think they can bribe them off.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the tactical section had updated the Chxor squadron's course. The icons of the Chxor forces had changed heading to one that would be a least-time run to the planet. Lucius swore savagely, “I’ll launch shuttles to the surface, I’ll evacuate who I can.”

  “The Shareholders and the Contractor will prohibit anyone from leaving,” she answered tiredly.

  “They can’t prohibit my Marines, and there will be a team on each shuttle to provide escort. Get your people moving, get landing coordinates to Lieutenant Naevius so he can order the shuttle pilots and escort them down.”

  She nodded, some light of hope returned to her eyes. “I won’t be able to get many, but some people will listen.”

  Lucius brought up a screen to Cato Naevius, “The Contractor is getting you landing coordinates for your shuttles, launch them as soon as you have them.” As he spoke he typed orders to Colonel Proscia for the team’s deployments.

  He looked at the screen again and then sighed and opened a channel to Burbeg. “There has been a change in plans.”

  ***

  Lieutenant Jessi Toria grimaced as the shuttle settled into one of the only clear areas on the spaceport. A sea of people had washed over the normally empty expanse of stained concrete. “Sergeant Ferch, get your team out there and try and put some order into this.”

  She was a ship's officer, not a Marine, but the Baron had sent her down with the shuttles to take charge of the evacuation. She would rather be aboard the War Shrike, doing what she had trained to do... yet at the same time, she felt a surge in pride that the Baron had selected her to be in charge of such an important task.

  She heard the Marine NCO bark out orders and she turned her gaze to the south, where the expanse of the refugee ships and shanty-town lay.

  She could see a hive of activity around several of those ships. The Baron hadn't specifically said to warn them, but she'd messaged them on the way down. Those were her people, not the swarm of Faraday citizens that surrounded the shuttle.

  But she'd do her duty by them anyway.

  ***

  It didn't take long for the first problem to come up.

  “We have to charge them for passage, how are we going to make anything off this otherwise?” The irate freighter captain sputtered.

  Jessi recognized the voice of the Contractor, but only from the news, “Mister Ganske, we have a lot of people to load and not much time...”

  Jessi stepped forward through the crowd, flanked by Sergeant Ferch and two of his Marines. “What's the problem here?”

  “Mister Ganske is refusing to allow anyone to board before receiving payment for passage. He also refuses to lift off without guidance from someone at Schultz Enterprises.” Lieutenant Toria felt a sudden spurt of jealousy for how the politician managed to make her voice clearly heard through the crowd.

  Jessi looked between the Contractor, surrounded by a half dozen security guards and the ship's captain, who stood with a man whom she assumed was his first officer. The woman she'd seen before on the news, the only politician of which she felt even the slightest respect, stood calm. She met the Lieutenant's brown eyes with a calm gaze of her own.

  The ship's captain's florid face was flushed with anger. His mouth hung open in a bovine expression of either stupidity or shock at the very idea not extorting people in need.

  Lieutenant Toria felt her own face flush. Her nostrils flared, “Mister Ganske, you will allow these people to board or you will be forcibly removed and you can seek other means off this planet.”

  “You can't do this, I'm the Captain of this vessel and it is owned by Schultz Enterprises! We have laws here!” The captain's jowls waggled back and forth as he spoke. Lieutenant Toria thought of the captain of the refugee ship she had come to Faraday aboard. Captain Nyguyen had shared his last ration bar with the hungry young girl who had lost her parents.

  “Sergeant Ferch, remove Mister Ganske from the spaceport area,” Jessi turned to face Ganske's first officer, “Mister Floyd, do you feel you can work with us?”

  The other man watched his former captain as a Marine dragged him away, “Yes, Lieutenant, I think I can.”

  Lieutenant Toria felt a bit of the tension ease in her gut. “Excellent, start loading these people.” She nodded at the Contractor, “Ma'am.”

  “Thank you for your ass
istance... Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, Ma'am. Not a problem, the Baron sent us to help. Excuse me,” Lieutenant Toria turned away as her com unit chimed. She felt sudden gratitude for the interruption, “Yes?”

  “Ma'am, we just got a message from Ensign Tascon over at the factory. He says that a number of people have shown up and they're requesting passage. He's told them to seek passage on the refugee ships, but they said some of the ships aren't space-worthy.”

  Jessi swept her eyes across the mass of people gathered at the spaceport. They might, might, all fit aboard the ships gathered here now.

  She felt an icy hand grip her heart. She fought off the sudden urge to order the Marines to clear out enough room for the people she'd grown up with. She opened up a channel to Tascon, “What's the status of the loading of the machinery?”

  “I can't get any more with these damned people here in the way,” Tascon said.

  Jessi's eyes narrowed, “Ensign, make room for those people.”

  “What?” Tascon said. She could almost see his olive-toned face with the automatic arrogance she so hated. “The Captain ordered me to load up the machinery from the factory.”

  Jessi closed her eyes. For a moment, she prayed for the patience to deal with any further situations. She shouldn't have felt surprise at Tascon's... difficulty grasping the situation. She hadn't missed the fact that he was the only of the Baron's officers to not receive promotion since their arrival here. In the rapid brief she'd received from the Baron, he'd made it clear that he wanted the Ensign at the factory was to avoid situations where his arrogance might cause an issue.

  Machinery, by and large, didn't take offense.

  Jessi focused on her commander's calm voice. How would the Baron handle this? “Ensign, that machinery is replaceable. Those people are not. Have them unload whatever cargo necessary and board the transports immediately.”