Weapons of War

by M. R. Forbes

  Published by Quirky Algorithms

  Seattle, Washington

  This novel is a work of fiction and a product of the author's imagination.

  Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by M.R. Forbes

  All rights reserved.

  Cover illustration by Tom Edwards

  http://tomedwardsdmuga.blogspot.com

  About Weapons of War

  In the year 2280, an alien fleet stole our Earth.

  For fifty years they enslaved us.

  For fifty years they hunted us.

  For fifty years we lived in fear.

  Nothing lasts forever.

  They can try to quell us.

  They can try to break us.

  They can chase us to the ends of the Earth.

  They can chase us to the ends of the Universe.

  We've won our first battle.

  We've earned our first taste of hope.

  What was theirs will soon be ours.

  We are the rebellion.

  Our story continues...

  Contents

  • Copyright • About Weapons of War

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

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  ONE

  There was nothing in slipspace. No stars. No planets. No dust. No light. There was only pitch black, pure and perfect in its simple depiction of nothingness. A place positioned somewhere outside of reality, where time and space changed meaning, and sometimes it seemed as if anything were possible.

  Gabriel had flinched as the Magellan had reached the surface of the Earth. He had felt his stomach clench, his body reacting to his sudden fear and tension. He had thought that he was going to die. That everyone on board the starship was going to die.

  He thought his father had failed him. Had failed them all.

  And General St. Martin would have had Gabriel not reached the bridge when he did. He didn't have to think it. He knew it, as sure as anything.

  The ship had made it into the aether, riding the waves of phased distortion through the planet and out the other side. Maybe his first thought should have been to jostle his father, to remind him to command Maggie to get them out of this place and back into realspace, to keep them from riding the crest too far, too fast. Maybe he should have given the command himself, and hoped the starship's intelligence would obey, even though he already knew it wouldn't. Maggie only listened to one person, and that was the General.

  Besides, it was so peaceful here. So quiet. So calm. After the chaos and fury that had seen him escaping from the planet with one of the Dread's weapons only to nearly crash back to the Earth, he was anxious for the break and eager for the suggestion of possibility.

  He welcomed this place outside of time where he could believe his mother was still alive, and his father was still fit for duty.

  He wished at least one of those statements were true.

  He counted four heartbeats. Five. Six. He wrenched himself from his inner dialogue, his eyes casting out around the bridge, to the men and women manning their stations, the same look of fear and surprise on their faces that he was sure was written all over his.

  It had been that close.

  "General," he said at last, remembering what Reza had said.

  The Earth's gravity would intensify the strength of the stream, and in turn, would send them further, faster. The Magellan had means to sustain them, but not forever. And besides, they had woken the sleeping giant, drawn one of the Dread's massive, city-sized starships to leave its moorings on the surface and give chase. Maybe they had escaped. Maybe they hadn't. Either way, they had gained an advantage against Earth's usurpers that they had never held before. They had captured a weapon that could defeat the enemy's shields. A weapon that could damage them. A weapon that could kill them.

  Retaliation, no matter what form it took, was inevitable.

  "General," Gabriel repeated, loudly this time.

  His father jerked as if taken by surprise. He was as lost in his thoughts as Gabriel had almost been. His eyes darted to Gabriel, an embarrassed expression crossing his wrinkled face. It vanished in an instant as he gathered himself. The fact that Gabriel had seen the emotion at all told him he wasn't wrong in his assessment that his father was losing it. Was it his age? The pills? A momentary lapse? He had been concerned when he saw Theodore bent over and vomiting in his quarters. Their near death had proven that the General's judgment was impaired. Hadn't it?

  Could he afford to risk that he was wrong?

  Could the crew?

  The Magellan shuddered suddenly, a warning tone sounding across the bridge. It was a sound Gabriel didn't recognize, but he could tell by feel what was happening.

  The ship was coming out of slipspace of its own volition.

  "Maggie?" Theodore said softly.

  "Slipstream velocity lost," Maggie said. "Quantum phase generator powering down."

  The stars expanded in front of them until everything looked normal once more.

  Except nothing was normal. Nothing would be the same. They had scored their first victory against the aliens who had stolen their home world. He had seen a clone of his mother among the rebels on the ground. He had witnessed a Dread gun cutting through Dread armor like cloth. They were alive.

  Thank God, they were alive.

  The bridge was silent as the starship came to a full stop. Nobody moved. Nobody dared to breathe. Gabriel stood next to his father, waiting for orders. He would have to confront him, he knew. He would have to challenge him on his lapse, and on the potential for future lapses.

  Not now. Not yet. He was a good soldier and a good son. Some things were better discussed in private.

  "Damage report," General Theodore St. Martin shouted, breaking the silence as he finally leaned back in the command chair. Gabriel caught the grimace of pain as he did.

  "Data is still filtering in," Abdullah said, watching his screen. "We had a hull breach on Deck 17. The emergency bulkheads have sealed it, but we lost a power conduit. We won't know how that will hurt us until we have a better picture of our overall status."

  "Understood, Sergeant," Theodore said. "Casualties?"

  "None reported, sir," Spaceman Miranda Locke said.

  "Only 'cause the old girl is four-quarters empty," Theodore said softly to himself. Gabriel still heard it. "That was close. Too damn close." He looked at Gabriel. "You saved all our bacon, son."

  "General-" Gabriel started to say. Theodore put up his hand.

  "I'm tired, son. Suddenly so damned tired. Came at me like a snake in the bayou."

  "General-" Gabriel tried to speak again.

  "Colonel Choi, you have the bridge," Theodore said.

  "General?" Choi replied. "What about-"

  "Captain St. Martin, I'll expect you to provide the Colonel with a full debriefing," Theodore said, ignoring her protest. He leaned forward on his hands again, his arms shaking from the exertion. "The rest of you, thank you for a job well done. Especially you, Mr. Mokri. For a civvie, you sure have a big set of balls."

  "Uh, thank you, sir," Reza said.

  Gabriel could feel the tension on the bridge, and it only grew as the General swung himself into his wheelchair and rolled away without another word.

  TWO

  Gabriel looked at Choi. Her face was hard, her lips a taut, thin line.

  "I should go talk to him," Gabriel said.

  "No, Captain," she replied. "Give him some time. He's never been in this situation before either."

  Gabriel looked back the way
his father had gone. He knew Choi was right. Even so, it was hard for him to stand there.

  "Colonel Choi, I've got an update from engineering, ma'am," Abdullah said.

  "Go ahead, Sergeant," Choi said.

  "According to Corporal Rogers, the blown conduit can be rerouted through one of the internal circuits, getting us back to full power. There's also some damage to secondary plumbing that is causing a loss to water reserves."

  "What kind of loss?"

  "Zero point three percent per hour at the current rate," Abdullah said.

  "How long to patch it?"

  "Three hours, ma'am."

  "Not bad. Get on that first. Right now, water is more valuable than engine thrust."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Mr. Mokri," Choi said, calling out Reza. The scientist was sitting at his station, checking the star charts. "Do you have any idea what just happened, or where we are?"

  "I think we hit a dead zone, Colonel," Reza said.

  "Dead zone?"

  "Yes, ma'am. There are areas in space the slipstreams don't cross. I'm still calibrating, but I think we're in one of them. It would have been easier to pinpoint if we had a target for the slip."

  "Understood. Interrupt me whenever you have our position."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Choi returned her attention to Gabriel. "So. Do you have it? The weapon?"

  Gabriel nodded. "I left it with O'Dea. We'll have to bring Reza to take a look at it."

  "It really works?"

  "It does. I saw the ground forces take down armored Dread soldiers that my guns couldn't touch." Gabriel lowered his voice and leaned in closer to her. "There's something else. They had a girl there with them. I think she was one of the enemy's clones. They copied her, Vivian. They copied my mother."

  Colonel Choi froze, her surprise obvious. "If they copied her-"

  "It means they captured her. I know. As if things aren't going to be hard enough with Theodore. When he finds out about this-"

  "You can't tell him, Gabriel."

  "I have to. He's going to ask for news about her. You know he will. He almost cared more about Rodriguez updating him on her whereabouts than he did about recovering the weapon."

  "It's going to break his heart."

  "His heart is already broken. It's going to piss him off, make him irrational. He's already not thinking clearly."

  "That's the medication."

  "It doesn't matter what it is; he isn't thinking clearly. That's dangerous territory considering what we just did."

  "I know," Choi said. "Like I said, you can confront him on that later."

  "Colonel Choi," Reza said, standing at his station. "I have it."

  "So where are we, Mr. Mokri?"

  "There's some math involved here," Reza replied. "So the projection may be slightly off. I've had to recenter based on the position of Earth in relation to the rest of the known universe, and then estimate the wave speed based on the data collected by the QPG nacelles."

  "The short version, Reza," Gabriel said.

  "Uh. Right." He smiled. "About six hundred light years beyond Earth."

  "Six hundred light years?" Sarah Larone said. "We were in the slipstream for what? Twelve seconds?"

  "Thirteen seconds," Reza said. "We traveled approximately forty-three light years per second."

  "Are you certain that's right? At that speed, we would be able to reach Calawan in less than two seconds."

  "From Earth. Not from here."

  Gabriel had been too busy to look out the viewport ahead of them. He did so now, staring out into the expanse of emptiness beyond. It was difficult to differentiate from any other part of space. There was a red dwarf star nearby, close enough to be a little more than another white dot against the black backdrop. Otherwise, there was nothing.

  "It would still only take about twenty-two days," Choi said. "We have more than enough reserves for that."

  "Yes, ma'am, that's true," Reza said. "There is one complication."

  "What is that?"

  "I'm scanning for streams, ma'am. As near as I can tell, there aren't any."

  Gabriel forgot about the view. His head snapped toward Reza, as did every other head on the bridge.

  "Excuse me?" Colonel Choi said, not quite sure she had heard correctly.

  "I know," Reza said. "It seems impossible, but there's nothing."

  "We came here on a stream," Gabriel said. "That means there has to be one in this area. Doesn't it?"

  "That's not how slipspace works, Captain," Sarah said. "The paths aren't random, but they also aren't constant. Are you familiar with the tides on Earth?"

  "Caused by the gravitational pull of the moon, sure," Gabriel said.

  "Slipstreams are like the tide," Reza said. "During high tide, they'll extend further than during low tide."

  "It's only been five minutes."

  "For us, Captain," Sarah said. "Remember, slipspace sits outside of our conceptualization of time. We know a lot about how it works, enough that we can plot courses with some measure of accuracy, but only to a certain point."

  "And we're beyond that point," Reza said. "It was nothing but insane luck that we were able to even find a slipstream to ride that was passing through the Earth. We should all be dead right now. That stream has crested, though. It will pass through here again, but without a point of reference, it may take weeks to figure out when that will be."

  "What's the bottom line?" Choi asked.

  "We took a calculated risk to escape the Dread the way we did," Reza said. "That part of it worked out for us, and we made it out alive."

  "But?"

  "But Captain, unless something changes, we're stranded out here."

  THREE

  "It can't be much further," Major Donovan Peters said, pushing past another bit of low-hanging brush. His eyes drifted above him, to the wisps of smoke illuminated by the starry night sky. They had been tracking the fallen starfighter for the better part of two hours, making their way back down the mountain toward the area where they had seen it touch down in a controlled crash.

  "Wait," Ehri said, grabbing his shoulder to slow him down. "Look."

  She pointed through the trees, to where a large shape stood sentinel. At first, Donovan thought it might be one of the bek'hai mechs, before realizing it was too small. An armored Dread soldier.

  Where there was one, there had to be more.

  "I've got a clear line of fire," Lieutenant Renata Diaz said, hefting one of the Dread Hunter's rifles to her shoulder. "One shot, one kill."

  "At ease, Lieutenant," Donovan said. "We don't know how many more are out there."

  Of course, the bek'hai had reached the site before them. They were on foot and tired, while their enemy had powered armor and genetically enhanced human clones to send out to survey the scene of the crash. Had they already found the pilot? Captured him? Killed him? They had moved as fast as they could to reach him ahead of the Dread.

  They were too late.

  Donovan motioned to Diaz. "See if you can find a good line of sight that way. Don't shoot until I do."

  "Yes, sir," Diaz said.

  "Ehri, you're with me. Matteo, stay low and out of sight. If you get in trouble, don't be afraid to use that thing."

  Matteo glanced down at the Dread rifle. Donovan could see his friend's hands were shaking slightly, but the tech didn't complain.

  "Okay," Matteo said. Then he took a few steps back to hide behind the brush they had just pushed past.

  Diaz headed off to the left, vanishing into the woods a moment later. Donovan kept an eye on the Dread soldier, making sure it didn't notice the movement. It continued to sit motionless, watching whatever was taking place near the wreckage. Donovan was sure he could hear soft voices now, coming from that area.

  He headed to the right of the Dread soldier, creeping slowly through the brush with Ehri right behind him. She was so close he could feel her breath on the back of his neck, calm and even. Did anything make the bek'hai scient
ist nervous? He doubted it.

  It took a few minutes for him to get a better vantage point. He stopped when he caught a glimpse of the source of the wisps of smoke, the side of the starfighter where a scorched hole in the fuselage had burned through one of the thrusters and left it unable to climb out of the atmosphere.

  "There," Ehri said, tapping his shoulder and whispering into his ear.

  She pointed to the left of the fighter, to a small area in front of it. Two female clones were kneeling beside a man laying on his back. The pilot. They had pulled his flight suit down to his waist and were talking quietly to one another while they placed a bandage over his abdomen.

  "What are they doing?" Donovan asked.

  He continued scanning the area. A second armored Dread soldier was standing perpendicular to the first, at the edge of the small field. A handful of clone soldiers stood in formation beside him. None of them seemed concerned that they might be attacked, or that they were in any danger. They had to know what had happened up on top of the mountain. They had to know their Hunters had been defeated, their weapons falling into the rebel's hands.

  Didn't they?

  "He must have been wounded," Ehri replied. "The salve is similar to the restorative bath the drumhr use to keep their skin healthy. It will heal most of the damage within hours."

  "Why are they healing him? Why not kill him?"

  "Why do you think, Major? The Domo'dahm will want information about the ships. Especially where they came from. The bek'hai have been monitoring the activity for years, but were never concerned enough by it to seek out the source."

  "Until tonight."

  "If they escaped with the weapon, then yes. Until tonight. To use a human expression, the tides have shifted, Major. Yesterday, the bek'hai were invincible to the human rebellion. Now, they are not."

  "Thanks to you, in part," Donovan said. "Those soldiers don't seem that concerned to me."

  "They have grown complacent over the years. Some will take the threat more seriously than others, at least until you start winning more battles."