Alpha Fleet (Rebel Fleet Series Book 3)

by B. V. Larson

  The man who’d been sparring with the fellow who was no longer conscious nodded to the old man warily—as if he’d been done a favor.

  But the mean old commander wasn’t having any of that. He had blood in his eye now. He’d tasted glory, and he meant to have more.

  Syms affected people differently, causing reactions of various intensities. I, myself, was still able to think clearly and easily. It was a quirk of my personality, I guess.

  But the commander wasn’t like that. He was losing it. He was going animal. I’d seen it many times before.

  His next victim saw it, too. He backed up a step, catching hard, smashing blows with his stick. He was faster, but probably not stronger.

  The old man became angrier with every block. He was grunting and showing his teeth. His breath puffed out of his open mouth, and the look in his eyes began to seem unhinged.

  Desperately, his victim turned his stick and held it like a spear. He thrust repeatedly, the way a man might work a bayonet. I could see he’d been trained in that ancient art. Feet apart, leaning forward, knees bent, keeping the tip of his weapon aimed at the commander.

  Unfortunately, there was no sharp tip at the end of his stick. The commander lunged at him, catching a glancing blow to the cheek which slid off. He got in close, whipping the two weighted ends and slamming them repeatedly into the man’s skull. About the third time, the bayonet guy fell on his face.

  That didn’t stop the old man. He’d lost it. He beat on the fallen man, and we all heard ribs crack.

  “Commander!” shouted a female lieutenant—but she was no lieutenant here. She was just another fighter. “You’re killing him!”

  The old guy didn’t respond. He thumped his stick on the fallen man’s back.

  The woman looked at me in horror. I shrugged, and pointed out that the commander’s back was facing her. It was a perfect opportunity.

  A change overcame her features. She went a little animal herself. Snarling, she rushed the commander and swung a roundhouse loop for his head.

  He might have been enjoying his beat-down, but he was still able to think. He heard her coming, side-stepped and tripped her.

  She fell over the fallen man and rolled into the barrier. There, she began to buzz and sizzle. The commander cackled and held her there with one foot.

  That was it, I think. Everyone lost whatever was left of their minds. They’d prepared, they’d thought it through, they’d said their prayers and done their push-ups—but none of that mattered now. They went for each other all around the ring, slamming, biting, kicking and screaming.

  The old man finally went down with two others beating on him. The girl was out, the old man was out—most of them were down and motionless.

  Two final troops turned to face off. They’d taken down the commander together, and now they’d decide who was the best.

  Before they were able to take their first shot, however, the man who had his back to me went down in a heap.

  The second man looked at me in confusion for a second.

  “I never said I wasn’t in this fight,” I told him. “A love-tap. That’s all it was.”

  Snarling, he charged me with wordless rage.

  What followed was the hardest challenge of my day. I was ready and unhurt, but this guy was a powerhouse. He knew how to fight, too.

  We slammed our sticks together. Lunge, block, sweep, counter—it went on for maybe thirty seconds.

  Then, I managed to catch his fingers with my stick. That was a legal tactic—because there weren’t really any rules.

  Broken, twisting fingers clutched his stick anyway. But his grip was weak. The next time he blocked me, his lost hold of his stick, and the weighted end of my weapon found his temple.

  He went down in a heap, and the floor slowly changed from red to yellow, then at last to green.

  Breathing deeply, I saluted those who could still move.

  “Well done,” I said. “This exercise, and this class, has reached its conclusion. You all passed with flying colors. As I promised, the final three combatants have been awarded one status point in the Rebel Kher Fleet.”

  There were a few groans, but no one thanked me.

  “One last thing,” I said. “Don’t tell anyone else how this ends. Don’t let some other crew off easy. Let them take their training, the same as you did.”

  “Damn straight…” mumbled a voice from the floor.

  To my surprise, I realized the words had come from the bloodied mouth of the commander.

  Hell, that man was part dinosaur.

  =10=

  A few more weeks passed, and the month long deadline Godwin had given us came and went. We didn’t relax, however. Somehow, knowing that the enemy was late made everything worse. Tension was so thick around Space Command you could cut it with a knife.

  Vega called me into his office—which was now underground in the operations facility—seven weeks after Godwin had come and gone.

  “You still haven’t seen him again?” he demanded. “You’re friend, the freak?”

  “No sir,” I told him. “Godwin has sent no word, no message. There have been no midnight knocks on my door.”

  Godwin had long been a sore point with the officers here. He possessed the ability to make people forget seeing him, and only hard evidence had proven to my superiors I wasn’t crazy.

  Needless to say, the fact some alien power was moving freely about our most critical base had set them all on edge.

  “We’ll catch this sneaky alien of yours eventually, you know,” Vega said.

  “He’s not my alien, sir.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, he’s your baby.”

  “How so?”

  “You were the first to bring him to our attention. If you break it, you get to fix it.”

  “Excellent, sir. How do I go about doing that?”

  “We have sensors now,” he explained, “automated ones that track individuals as they move around this base. We’ve also set up automated briefings for every security chief. They’re reminded of Godwin’s existence soon after they wake up, just to make sure that bastard doesn’t erase anyone’s mind again.”

  I wasn’t sure these measures would work, but I didn’t think they could hurt, so I nodded as if I was impressed.

  Vega looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Why do you think he confides in you? Why not me, or someone else with more authority?”

  “Originally, I discovered him and captured him,” I explained. “I think that impressed him. He decided he could use a man to communicate with Earth, rather than to merely sneak around spying. He chose me for that purpose.”

  “Good enough, then,” he said. “I brought you here to tell you we’ve decided to bring Godwin in—to question him.”

  I frowned at this idea. “You want to capture him, Admiral? I’m not sure that’s a good idea diplomatically.”

  “You said yourself he’s a spy. The stakes are very high now, Blake. We can’t allow an alien to wander our most sensitive base at will.”

  “But look, sir, the Nomads are on our side.”

  “Really? What proof do you have of that? Can they lend us a few battleships?”

  “Uh… I don’t think they can, sir.”

  Vega nodded. “Exactly. He can’t do anything to help. He gives you suggestions, steals information, and God knows what else. We’re through putting up with it.”

  “But sir—”

  “The matter is closed, Captain. I just wanted you to be in the loop so you aren’t overly alarmed when our trap is sprung.”

  As he spoke, I realized I had to be the bait in this trap. Godwin had appeared and talked to me several times. If they wanted to catch him, they had to watch me to do it.

  “On another, more positive note,” Vega continued, “we’re christening a new ship tomorrow.”

  “Another phase-ship, sir?” I asked brightly. My old dreams of flying my own ship flared again in my heart. I couldn’t help it. Hope truly was eternal.
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br />   “There was a phase-ship commissioned last week,” Vega said. “This is something new and experimental.”

  “Oh… what is she, then?”

  “Meet me at the transmat just before noon tomorrow,” he said, “and you’ll find out.”

  “Will do.”

  I tried to get more details out of Vega, but I failed. Our meeting broke up shortly after he’d asked me to the launching of this new ship. I found he’d left me wondering about this mysterious new vessel. Could Abrams be behind the project? I’d gotten a certain vibe from him lately…

  Dr. Abrams could keep a secret when he was forced to, but he didn’t really like staying quiet for long. His idea of a good time was proving to everyone that he was a genuine genius. How could you do that by working on projects no one knew about?

  As evidence of this problem, Abrams had made smug comments around me that suggested he’d been working on something big. Something so big I was too unimportant to be briefed about it. I’d assumed his hints were all fantasy and fluff—but now I wasn’t so sure.

  All that night and the next morning I thought about Abrams and the new ship, and by noon when I let my latest class go early for the day, I could think of little else.

  Arriving at the transmat a full ten minutes early, I found myself eying the booth with a queasy feeling in my guts. Was it really about to kill me? Was I really going to step into that thing and allow myself to be blasted apart and reformed elsewhere, like a mosquito flying innocently in bug-zapper?

  “What are you doing here, Blake?” Dr. Abrams demanded from behind me.

  I spun around, tearing my eyes from the transmat. “Ah, Doctor. I’m waiting for you and Vega, apparently.”

  He frowned. “I haven’t been briefed on your involvement.”

  “My involvement? Some would say the whole thing was my idea. What surprises me is seeing you here on the big day. I knew someone was doing the grunt work on our designs, but I didn’t think they’d burdened you with something so mundane.”

  Dr. Abrams’ mouth fell open. It was always so satisfying when he did that. I was pushing his buttons, and it really wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t help myself. The guy could be hard to take sometimes.

  “Your idea?” he demanded, scandalized. “The ship’s design is mine, Blake. You’ve had nothing to do with it! Frankly, I don’t think you have the background to grasp even the basics of this ship’s capabilities.”

  “Let’s talk about it when we get up there,” I said, making the supposition that ship was in orbit. My bullshit was running thin, but I was having a great time. “Vega will straighten everything out, I’m sure.”

  He stared at me with squinting eyes for a moment. “You’re having me on, aren’t you?” he demanded at last. “Is this all some kind of prank? Some kind of schoolboy entertainment of yours?”

  “Not at all. Vega ordered me to be here today. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  Abrams stopped talking and fell to muttering incoherently. His brows knit together in a petulant, angry frown. He gazed at the deck, the transmat—anywhere except at me.

  At last, after three uncomfortable minutes of this, Vega arrived.

  “Excellent,” he said. “You’re both here, and early.”

  “Admiral Vega,” Abrams said loudly. “This man has made a number of alarming—”

  Vega put up both is hands in surrender. “Doctor, let’s just get on with the inspection. I know you don’t get along with Blake, but today, that’s just tough. We’re going up.”

  The transmat hummed as it activated. My mood concerning the system had shifted. I was so annoyed with Abrams, I grinned as I stepped into its glowing, intertwined fields.

  For just a second, I had the distinct sensation I was in two places at once, even though I knew that was impossible.

  What had really happened was I’d been destroyed and converted to nonexistence for a few moments, then rebuilt at the far end. The very thought was enough to make one’s mind and stomach churn.

  =11=

  When I arrived at the other end, I stepped out of a transmat booth that was identical in all respects to the one I’d entered down on Earth. The place where it stood, however, was quite different. Right off, I knew I was in space. There was a tug of artificial gravity, but it was much less powerful than the glue-like pull of my home planet.

  The walls of the ship stretched out around me. I could tell right off it was big. Our phase-ships were built on a smaller scale. Aboard a vessel like Hammerhead, the walls curved in visibly in most chambers, as you were always close to the hull everywhere you went. On this vessel, there were no curved walls in sight.

  Vega stepped out of the transmat next. I watched the shimmer, and I watched him give himself a shake.

  “How big is it?” I asked immediately.

  “Not as big as those cruisers Fex was driving,” he admitted. “But she’s a good two hundred meters long and thirty thick.”

  My mind whirled. That was a large volume of space. In the Earth’s antiquated surface navy, a heavy cruiser would have been about the equivalent.

  But spacecraft tended to be larger. They had to carry much more powerful engines, life support systems and power sources. Moving a ship over an earthly sea at thirty knots took some large turbines, but sea-going vessels weren’t expected to push a ship to a million kilometers an hour. Nor were their weapons expected to reach a million kilometers out and damage an enemy. That kind of push and reach took massive amounts of power.

  “What class is she?” I asked, almost whispering.

  “Ah-ha!” Abrams shouted, eyeing me with gleeful triumph. “You don’t know anything about this ship! She’s a work of art, Blake. That’s all you really need to know. The jewel in Earth’s crown.”

  “She’s a destroyer—or maybe a light cruiser at best,” Vega said, ignoring Abrams. “But her size isn’t the most important thing about her.”

  “She’s a starship!” Dr. Abrams announced, stepping close to me and putting his face into mine. “Our first. My baby. My greatest achievement. And you—you had nothing to do with her creation. Nothing!”

  I smiled. “That’s right, Doc,” I said. “She’s all yours, and she’s beautiful.”

  I ran my hands over sleek walls and gentle curves at the bulkheads. She was a work of art. Abrams was three-quarters mad on a good day, but I had to admit, he’d outdone himself.

  Vega was talking about something, but I didn’t hear him. My ears had stopped working shortly after Abrams had said: Starship.

  I whirled around to face the two of them. “Did you say… starship?”

  “That’s right,” Abrams said smugly.

  “As in… she can open her own rifts in space? She can travel to other star systems?”

  “In theory, yes,” Vega said.

  “Theory?” Dr. Abrams snapped. “What are you talking about? She’s a starship—dammit man, that’s settled science. She’ll fly anywhere you want to go. You can be sure of that, Admiral.”

  Vega looked at me. “She can make a rift—we hope.”

  “I’ve already done it in the lab—twice!” Abrams said, speaking as if he was offended by any doubters.

  I eyed Abrams, then Vega. I understood. Abrams was a man who always oversold his creations. He’d invented many amazing things, but often, they failed to deliver as promised.

  Immediately, my mind dredged up images of his star-shot project that misfired at a quarter of the promised speed, and then of his gravity-wave generator that had twisted up the guts of everyone aboard Hammerhead the first time we turned it on.

  In short, there was no telling what this ship was really capable of until we flew her, and Vega’s attitude indicated he knew this was the case as well.

  “Why am I here, sir?” I asked Vega.

  “Yes,” Dr. Abrams said. “I want to know the answer to that as well. Why are you here, aboard my ship?”

  “Because we want you to be her captain, Blake,” Vega told me, his eyes locked with
mine.

  Abrams made a choking sound, but no intelligible words exited his throat. He was too upset for that.

  “A challenge,” I said. “An immense responsibility… I accept, of course.”

  “Do you need a glass of water, Dr. Abrams?” Admiral Vega asked him.

  “I need something stronger. Tell me this is a joke. Tell me you’re not putting this engine of destruction in charge of my greatest achievement!”

  “I’m sorry,” Vega said, “but you two are just going to have to find a way to work together.”

  “I’ve got a question, too,” I said. “Why the secrecy? Why did you let me think you wanted me to be some kind of school teacher?”

  Dr. Abrams face twitched. It wasn’t a smile. Not even a half-smile. But the left corner of his mouth did jump upward for a second or two.

  “Don’t play the fool,” Abrams said. “You’re a security risk. You’ve been followed around by a ghost for two years. Why would we tell you anything? In fact, it baffles me that you’ve been allowed to set foot on this vessel!”

  I turned back to Vega, snapping my fingers. “That’s why I’ve been passed over for every commission? Someone wanted me to command this ship? All the while you’ve been building it, you’ve been torturing me, Admiral?”

  Vega shrugged. “Not my call. You met Clemens. He didn’t want you to know anything.”

  “He knows about Godwin?”

  “Of course he does. A security breach of that magnitude? Everyone knows about it. Some people wanted to blackball you permanently.”

  I nodded, feeling that many pieces were fitting together in my mind. Contemplating being in space again was a relief, a terror in my guts, and a sensation of exhilaration all at the same time.

  Spinning around in the low gravity, I turned to Abrams again. He was red-faced and looking defeated.

  “Doc,” I said, “please show me around your masterpiece.”

  One great thing about Dr. Abrams was he could be easily mollified with compliments. He might fly into rages, demand insane things, or deny failures that everyone else could see plainly. But if you just told him he was the greatest for a while, in a manner that was justified and believable, you could turn him back into a calm happy man again.