Copyright © 2016 by Michael Freeport
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Acknowledgements:
I would like to give a very special thanks to the following individuals:
Karen Brickey Reeve
Celia Reeve
Phoebe Nathan
Gary Brewer
Thank you for the help and motivation. This book would never have been done without all of your insight and well placed kicks in my butt.
For: My parents. You always believed in me. I can never repay you for your support.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 1
Aden glanced up the street, his brown eyes darting from face to face. His thoughts were full of the anticipation of seeing his brother for the first time in over four years. The cool breeze ruffled his short hair as he waited nervously for his brother to arrive. The street held far fewer people than he would expect for this time of morning. The small cafe he was waiting at was near his childhood home where his brother and mother still lived. As he turned to look the other direction, Asher slipped into the chair across the table from him.
He looked his brother over. He had aged since Aden had last seen him. Grey showed at his temples, and new wrinkles had appeared around his eyes and mouth. His expression was cold and appraising as he looked back at Aden.
Aden stopped himself from a more familiar greeting when he saw the expression on his brother's face. Instead, he said, “Good morning, Asher. I hope you're doing well.”
Asher continued gazing steadily at Aden for a moment before responding. “Aden. I presume you've asked me here for something important?”
The conversation was already going badly. Aden had rehearsed how this conversation would go in his mind many times while waiting for it to begin. He had not seen Asher - or his mother - since leaving to join the Lashmere Military Academy four years earlier. Asher had refused him on multiple occasions. He had finally forced the issue by just telling Asher when and where to meet him. “Asher, I have good news. I've been assigned to the Rampart and wanted to see you and mom before I left. I'll probably be off planet for a long time. I had hoped you would bring her.”
“Bring mother? Why? So she could look at her traitor son one last time?” Asher's mouth was twisted into a contemptuous snarl as he finished speaking. “She has nothing to say to you in any event.”
Aden sighed explosively He shouldn't have expected anything else from his brother. “How can I be a traitor? The Karn Nation no longer exists, and I am serving the only legitimate government that exists on this planet, Asher.” Aden held up his hand to forestall his brother's response. “I just wanted you to know I would probably be gone is all.”
“On the Rampart?”
“Yes. On the Rampart.”
“The Ebrim built that ship to annihilate the Karn people, and now you come to me, beaming with good news. You smile like the poor, brainwashed idiot you are and stand ready to serve aboard with pride. Do you even remember who you are? Where you come from? There may not be a Karn nation on any map, Aden, but the Karn people still exist,” Asher thumped his chest, “Here, in our hearts, no one can conquer us.”
“It's not about that anymore, Asher. In any event, the ship never even fired a shot at the Karn people. I'm lucky to serve on the Rampart. It is the flagship of the Lashmere Navy now.”
“Lashmere Navy.” Asher spat the words out like a curse. “You mean the Ebrim Navy, don't you?”
“It is the Lashmere Navy now. It represents all the people on this planet, not one group specifically and certainly not nations that no longer exist like the Ebrim and Karn.”
“That's because there was no Karn Navy after the forced our surrender. They destroyed all our ships after the war.” Asher shook his head and looked at Aden like he was staring at a foolish child making an obvious mistake. “I hope you understand how deeply you've hurt mother and me, chasing after your selfish dream with no regard for how your family feels. Why do you insist on staying in that uniform, in the navy that has done nothing but destroy everything you and your family stood for for so long?”
Aden kept his voice from quavering with effort. “Father would have understood.”
“Father would have disowned you.”
“Asher, that's not true. Father knew I was always going to serve in space. If it couldn't be the Karn Navy, then it would have to be the Lashmere Navy. He knew.”
“And how, exactly, can you say that with such certainty? Does he visit you from beyond the grave to give you his blessing to join and fight alongside the people who murdered him?”
Aden's eyes widened in disbelief. His brother had been upset about him joining the Lashmere Navy, but now he was so hateful, so enraged. Aden barely recognized the man who, twenty years before, had carried his younger brother on his shoulders and had shown him how to enjoy the outdoors and all the other precious childhood memories that made him the older brother he had loved and missed. “Asher, I don't know what's wrong with you. It's hardly news that I'm a part of the Lashmere Navy. I've been in service for over two years and was at the academy for two years before that. I've sent you and mother regular communications about my progress. Both of you knew I had been selected for the tactical drone officer training program. Both of you knew I received a meritorious promotion to Lieutenant Commander for my performance at the tactical drone school, or would have if you'd read the messages I'd sent. There's only one ship with a tactical drone compliment: The Rampart.”
Asher's hands tightened into fists until his knuckles showed white. He sat silently for a moment, his face fixed in an expressionless mask. When he spoke again, his voice was rough and low, a sure sign his typically slow temper was near the breaking point. “One day, you will realize how much you have betrayed yourself to be one of those murderers. When you do, contact me. Until then, stay away from us.” With that, Asher thrust himself from his chair and strode towards the street.
Aden leaped from his seat and chased after him, catching him at the corner of the cafe where they had been sitting. He grabbed Asher's arm and turned him around. “Asher, please. Please don't go this way. I'm not sure when I'll get back. The Rampart may be in space for years.”
Asher snatched his arm free of his brother's grip. “I will tell our mother you are gone, brother.” Asher's lip curled, and his eyes narrowed. “I will tell her you have given up being Karn, that you are now Ebrim.” Asher spun on his heel and strode swiftly away, almost running.
Aden stared after his brother's retreating back, his mouth agape. He knew his brother still had hard feelings about the war and how it ended, but Aden had been too young to serve and too young to truly grasp the importance of what was happening. When the Lashmere Planetary Government had been formed and subsequently announced the newly minted Lashmere Military Academy would accept applicants from both the Ebrim and Karn regions, he'd joined as soon as he was old enough.
Aden pulled the formal, printed orders out of his pocket and held them for a moment, pondering ho
w his life was going. He'd read the orders so many times; he knew the wording by heart. Turning back to the cafe, he sat and stared at the packet of thick, creased paper with its stilted words, ordering him to report aboard to the position of tactical officer; not some junior grade, but a full department head. He had achieved one of his most treasured goals, short of actual command of a space-faring vessel. Aden wished the joy of his achievement did not taste like ashes in his mouth after talking to his brother. His coffee was long cold by the time he paid for it and went to the train station.
The ride to the southern spaceport was quiet. There was hardly anyone on the train at first, but when it crossed into former Ebrim territory the number of people skyrocketed. When Aden exited the train, there were at least two people for every seat. As he exited the train station, he pulled his orders out again. Technically, he had two more weeks before he was required to report aboard. He had hoped he would be spending this time catching up with his brother and mother before a long space assignment, but now he just wanted to get to the ship and begin his duties. Looking over his shoulder at the train station, he almost felt the closing of a chapter of his life. His feelings of loss were tempered by the thought that he had done everything he could to keep his brother and mother close. They were the ones who could not accept how things had changed since the war ended. Aden packed his regrets into a corner of his mind and turned to face the present. He strode into the spaceport with a new sense of purpose.
Commodore Franklin Stokes walked down the lavishly appointed hallways at Lashmere Naval Command, formerly Ebrim Naval Command. He had been roused early with orders to report to Admiral Vesper, one of the remaining seven Admirals in the Naval command structure. Once the war had ended, many of the most senior officers had retired, their roles no longer needed and their ideas on operations no longer salient to a navy with no enemy to fight.
Stokes knocked and entered Admiral Vesper's office. “Good morning, sir,” he said to the silver-haired Admiral.
Vesper looked up from the report he was hunched over. “Commodore Stokes, good morning. I have your final orders. As I have been hinting to you for months, you are being ordered to replace the yard captain aboard the Rampart.
Stokes suppressed what should have been a huge grin at the news. He had been fairly certain for quite some time, but finally knowing for sure he was going to command the fleet's new flagship was a tremendous moment. “Sir, I am honored. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“You've more than earned it, Commodore. The fleet needs an experienced captain and a man who can lead them in any situation. Your experience and performance in the war and since prove you are that man.” Admiral Vesper handed the order packet to Stokes over his desk. “Let me be the first to congratulate you.” Vesper extended his hand.
Stokes shook firmly and then said, “Thank you, sir.”
“Do you have time for a technical briefing, Commodore?”
Stokes knew the questions was rhetorical. If the Admiral wished it, he would spend the next week listening to whatever the Admiral felt he needed to hear. “Of course, sir. I am at your disposal.”
“Relax, Commodore. In this office, I have the rare opportunity to be informal. Call me Jake.” He gestured to a pair of overstuffed leather chairs.
“Yes, sir.” Stokes settled himself into the indicated seat. “Where do we begin?”
Vesper stepped out from behind his desk and opened a small cabinet built against the far wall from the door. “Would you like something to drink? This briefing may take quite a while.”
“Thank you, I'll have whatever you are having.”
“Excellent.” The Admiral poured two glasses of an amber liquor over ice and brought them to the second chair, separated by a small round table. After setting the glasses down, he plucked a remote from his pocket and activated a screen on the wall the chairs faced. The screen came up to show an overview of a ship, the Rampart. “This is the classified briefing. Most of the offensive and defensive systems originally planned for the Rampart are unchanged. The biggest upgrades are in scientific and sensor capacities. How much do you know about the originally planned systems?”
“Not a great deal, only what everyone knows from the unclassified information release,” Stokes replied.
“I'll take you through it system by system, Mister Stokes. The sensor suite has been upgraded to three separate arrays from the originally planned two. The third array is a long range sensor designed to obtain information about adjacent star systems and interstellar energy sources. We've aggressively suppressed any knowledge of the existence of the new sensor technology. The fact that we've learned to see what's happening as much as ten light-years away in real time is something we don't want the general public to be aware of just yet. This third sensor suite augments the standard tactical and short-range navigational sensors.”
“Faster than light sensors?” Stokes leaned forward in his seat. “I heard we were close to developing them but...” he trailed off speculatively.
Vesper nodded. “We completed development a few months ago. The prototype system was pressed into service for Rampart's launch. We have also incorporated a third generation point to point drive. The theoretical range of the drive is between seven and eight light years. For day to day operations, the safety interlock is set at five light years.”
Stokes could not contain his astonishment. The last generation of the point to point drives had a range of ten to twelve light days. This increase in range made interstellar travel a real possibility. “That's an amazing breakthrough, Admiral.”
“Indeed. The combat systems aboard the Rampart represent an equally sizable quantum leap forward. The on board drone systems carry as much firepower as a previous generation fighter with the dimensions of a life pod. The main gun is more than seven times as powerful as the one aboard the Bastion.” The Bastion was the previous flagship, now being replaced by the Rampart. “Most of the upgrades are the brainchildren of the same scientist.” Vesper tapped a button on his remote. The screen changed to a portrait of a young woman, red-haired and heavily freckled. Service record data began to scroll up next to the picture. “This is Lieutenant Marli Simmons. She's currently assigned as an adviser to the Rampart for the shakedown cruise. Her time there has been invaluable so far.”
Stokes looked the woman's picture over. “She isn't permanently assigned to the crew, then?”
Vesper shook his head. “No, and you aren't going to get her. We had to fight tooth and nail to get her away from research and development for long enough to complete the shakedown cruise, much less a three year space assignment. You have her for the next six weeks, eight at the most, and then she's gone.” Vesper paused and took a sip of his drink before continuing. “Your executive officer is Commander Linis Hanlon. She graduated top of her class in command school and turned down a command of her own to take the position of executive officer aboard the Rampart. She's been informed of your orders and is preparing for your arrival now.” Vesper pressed a button on his remote and a picture of a tall brunette who appeared on the edge of smiling despite the serious expression she wore.
Stokes looked over the image and attached data displayed on the large screen. “Do you think she's a glory hound?”
Vesper shook his head. “I don't think so. Hanlon has a sort of character that will benefit you. Her demeanor is somewhat irreverent at times, but she's one of the best officers I've ever seen come through command school. No, I think she just wants to see what's outside our planetary system.”
“Sounds good. Who else is on the command staff?”
“Well, your assigned science department head is Lieutenant Halford Kri. If Simmons didn't invent it, Kri did. The man is a bona fide genius. Despite his scientific contributions, he has focused on command duties. On the down side, his command presence score is below average. He'll need some polishing before he's given a lot of independence, but his pros far outweigh his cons.”
Vesper looked at Stokes directly, “Your tac
tical officer is a bit of a difficult choice. We've assigned Lieutenant Commander Aden Patho to be department head.”
Stokes sat bolt upright in his chair. “The Karn?”
“That's the one. I know you fought the Karn in the war, but Patho is easily the best choice. Out of the first tactical drone class, he scored the highest. And when I say highest, I mean his aptitude and demonstrated ability dwarfs that of the next closest candidate. We are restructuring the course at this moment because of the innovations he showed us at the school. I expect it will go through a similar restructuring once he has made it through a year aboard the Rampart. You'll have to put any cultural differences aside and see to it he's given as much acceptance as you can provide.”
Stokes nodded. Having a member of the former Karn nation would present a challenge, especially among the officers and crew who had fought in the war. Stokes firmed his resolve. “Yes, sir.”
“Patho was jumped two grades upon graduation so he would have the rank necessary for the tactical department head. He is much younger than is usual for an officer in his position and will probably need a lot of guidance in leadership matters as a result. He's taken three weeks leave and isn't scheduled to report aboard for another two. That gives you plenty of time to brief your officers and crew and see to it they're all ready to serve with an officer from the former Karn nation.”
Stokes rubbed his thumb along the bottom of his chin. “I will, of course, do as you order, sir. I'm uncertain how the other officers will react to having a Karn in such a position of authority.”
“I understand your discomfort, Mister Stokes, but as we are so fond of saying around here; it just isn't the navy you joined, is it? Rolling the former Karn nationals into our overall command structure has presented a lot of issues for us. Fortunately, we have neither the luxury of choice in the matter nor the ability to decide how our orders are carried out. The planetary government, which is almost forty percent Karn, has decided Karn citizens are just as able to serve in the military as Ebrim. As such, Lashmere has both former Ebrim and former Karn citizens, enlisted men, and officers in uniform. Commander Patho is the highest ranking member of the Lashmere military who is from the former Karn nation, but there are others, many others, who are behind him. We're all going to have to get used to the idea of serving with people we once called the enemy.”
A Faded Star Page 1
