by J G Cressey
HARPER’S TEN
PREQUEL TO THE FRACTURED SPACE SERIES
By J G Cressey
Harper’s Ten
Prequel to the Fractured Space Series
Copyright © 2015 by J G Cressey
www.jgcressey.com
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. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events is purely coincidental.
First Printing, 2015
Edited by Amanda Shore
Cover art by Linggar Bramanty
Cover design by Andrew Hall
Formatting by Polgarus Studio
For my family and friends.
You’re a good bunch, I’m a lucky guy.
CHAPTER ONE
Lieutenant Callum Harper woke with the back of his head rattling against the metal restraint. It seemed smart-gel, or even basic padding, had been overlooked on this ship. The violent shaking meant that nap time was well and truly over. They’d be touching down on Capsun 23’s surface in a matter of minutes, and he had to get his act together. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that he was the one in charge. He’d only been a lieutenant for a little under a year, and the role still felt strange, as if he were donning someone else's ill-fitting armor.
Cal glanced at his team. Five men and two women in full Corrain armor were nestled in the flight seats around him, and Sinclair and Malloy were up front in the cockpit. Nine soldiers, most of whom had proven their combat abilities countless times. Some had been on the team for years, some just a handful of missions. And then there was one who was fresh out of the academy and green as hell. Peter Coutes, or Couter as the team had begun calling him, was a fit, strong young man with exceptional grade rankings. But somehow, his unblemished face and wide, eager eyes made him seem little more than a kid. Cal studied him for a moment and did his best to get the measure of the young man. Right now, he was brimming with jokes, smiles, and bravado as he talked to Wilson and Oshiro, the grizzled old veterans sitting on either side of him. Cal thought the smiles genuine but the bravado not so much. Couter had been chatting away when Cal had fallen asleep, and now, an hour later, his mouth hadn’t lost any velocity. It was a sure sign of nerves. Cal didn’t blame him; anyone who wasn’t nervous on their first mission was either lying or a nut job—especially when that first mission was to an uncharted planet.
Cal rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched his arms as best he could beneath his flight restraints. He had to admit to feeling on edge himself on this particular outing. Annoyed too. In fact, the mission brief had made him damn right angry. That pathetic excuse for a starship captain, Laurence Decker, had probably made the order on a whim or perhaps distractedly muttered the go ahead between drinks in the officer’s club. It wasn’t that the mission was a dud but more that it could turn out to be the exact opposite. And if that were the case, Cal and his team wouldn’t have nearly enough muscle power, or indeed fire power, to dig themselves out of the hole they’d be in.
“You think the new kid’ll hold up, boss?”
Cal turned to Sergeant Becker, who was sitting by his side. She was roughly snapping point grenades to the side of her ten-click pulse rifle. “He’ll be alright,” Cal replied semi-confidently.
She nodded and reached for another grenade.
Upon seeing the sergeant’s fine features, long eyelashes, and silky blond hair, a person might be forgiven for labeling her as a lady of delicate pursuits, a debutante even. The sight of her muscular, battle-scarred arms, however, quickly killed the illusion dead. Becker was hard as nails. In fact, after working with her for the past five years, Cal could think of no one he’d rather have backing him up in a fight. That was one of many reasons he’d been quick to recommend her in the role of sergeant when he’d been promoted to lieutenant.
Cal winced as she snapped another of the little explosives into place. “Of course, you keep bashing those point grenades around like that, you might just blow him and the rest of us to hell before we even touch down.”
Becker shook her head. “You’re such a pussy, boss,” she replied, handling the next grenade with extra vigor. “Besides, I’ve seen you juggling with these things when you’re drunk.”
“Oh yeah,” Cal said, disengaging his flight restraint and climbing to his feet. “When this mission’s over, remind me I’ve given up drinking.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Becker said with a smile. “Then we’ll have a round of shots to celebrate the fact.”
Cal returned the smile and had a quick stretch, his armor adjusting easily and smoothly to his movements. Having now broken through the planet’s atmosphere, the turbulence had diminished, and the metal grating beneath his feet felt as steady as a rock. Bringing up his wrist, he activated the comm on his data pad. “How we doing, Sinclair?”
“Not much to see yet,” the flight officer answered. “Low-level cloud cover. Should see more in a few minutes. We’ll be touching down in ten.”
“Okay. Keep your comm open; I want you and Malloy to hear the brief.”
“Sure thing.”
Cal walked to the back of the deployment cabin, took hold of an overhead grab-bar—more out of habit than necessity—and looked back at his team. They only filled a fifth of the available flight seats. Not nearly enough, he thought grimly, not by a long shot. “Okay, listen up. Time for the brief.” This got a little cheer from Corporal Franco, the team’s one and only smart ass. Cal ignored him and continued. “Capsun 23’s in stage one of its colony compatibility trials. Three data drones touched down on the surface five days ago, but all three went dark shortly—” Cal paused mid-flow. The new recruit had raised his hand like he was on some sort of school outing. “What is it, Couter?”
“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but haven’t we all already studied the mission brief?”
Cal raised an eyebrow. “You read it?”
Couter nodded, looking a little confused.
“All twelve documents?” Cal asked.
Couter looked about at the rest of the team. “Of course, sir, didn’t…”
Franco whistled. “Looks like we’ve got an officer in the making, people.”
“Shut it, Franco, and keep it shut,” Cal said, ignoring the wide, Italian grin that he knew the corporal would be shooting his way. “I want you all to take note of young Couter’s enthusiasm and dedication. There was a day when you all had some. And maybe even a day when you all read your mission briefs back to front. The details could save your life and, more importantly, mine. Brief doesn’t mean you briefly glance at the front page. Especially this mission.”
“You suspect a hellhole, Lieutenant?” Veteran Wilson asked. He was a hardy, thick-set man who looked as though he’d spent a long lifetime pulling fish from a rough ocean—quite the contrast to the fresh-faced Couter by his side.
Cal found himself nodding even though he had no hard evidence to support the theory. “All three data drones went offline shortly after touching down. None of them sent out much info before going dark. Only the basics; gravity’s a touch on the heavy side but well within acceptable limits. Atmos and temps are friendly.”
“So we’re a goddamned tech retrieval crew.” This came from private Poots. She’d joined Cal’s team a year ago. She was a good soldier but cranky as hell.
“No. Primarily, we’re here to rescue,” Cal replied. “A small, non-military research team touched down on the planet shortly after the drones went offline. Twenty-eight civilians in
a Class Three Base-pod. Contact with them was lost before their first report was even sent. Intel believes pirates or scavengers are involved. A small, unregistered vessel was detected in the area around the time the drones died, so it could well be that we’re looking at a simple scavenge crime…” Judging by the faces of his more experienced team members, Cal was starting to feel more confident in his own suspicions. At least ninety percent of scavenge crimes on data drones failed within a few hours. The thieves either gave up upon discovering the level of drone’s protective shielding or they attempted to disengage it and got vaporized in the process.
“…Or it could be that the planet’s wildlife is responsible,” Cal continued. He looked around at the team and noted that Couter’s confident expression was starting to wane. The change on his young face was only subtle, but Cal could spot it a mile off. He felt an urge to tell the recruit not to worry, that maybe Intel had the right of it and they’d find nothing but the remnants of a simple scavenge crime. But he didn’t believe it. Besides, this was the life the young man had signed up for; mollycoddling him definitely wouldn’t help.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Cal said after a moment. “So far, we don’t know anything about Capsun 23 other than it has abundant water, and we’ll be able to breathe and walk around. Three things that encourage life. My gut feeling… We could be looking at a hellhole.”
There were a number of mumbled curses.
“Or we could be looking at a paradise full of sweaty Amazon women,” Corporal Franco suggested.
Orisho, the big Japanese veteran to Couter’s left, let out a booming laugh. This was a common occurrence; Orisho found most things that Franco said amusing. This time, Cal looked at Franco. The corporal was a ridiculously good-looking man who knew it only too well. Cal also suspected that his thick, Italian accent was emphasized for effect. They were about the same age, mid-thirties, and Franco had been part of the team for four years. Despite the corporal being a bit of a dick at times, Cal couldn’t help but like the man. He was tougher than he looked and a hell of a lot more capable than he acted.
“Come on, people,” Franco continued. “We’re living in a vast soup of infinite possibilities. Don’t deny me the hope that all my future wives could be waiting for me down there.”
Cal headed for the cockpit with the continued sound of Oshiro’s big laugh echoing off the walls.
There wasn’t much to see through the flight window other than thin cloud cover. Cal laid a hand on the pilot’s shoulder. “Sinclair.”
“Lieutenant,” she replied, briefly turning to look up at him. “Still not much to see yet. But the clouds are breaking up fast.”
Out of all his team, Cal had known Sinclair the longest. She’d been his advanced piloting tutor back in his Academy days as well as a mentor. Despite being advanced in her years, Sinclair was still as fit as they came, and she had the intelligence and experience to back it up. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t actually part of the team—not on a long-term basis anyway. Having left the Academy, Sinclair now enjoyed a Class One Flight Officer ranking, meaning she got to pick and choose which teams she worked with and when. It also meant that she technically outranked Cal while they were off the ground. Cal didn’t mind that one bit. He was just glad she was with them; he had a feeling that experience was going to be a godsend on this particular mission.
As they neared the clouds, Cal felt his gut tighten. For a single team to be landing on an uncharted planet was bordering on insanity. They didn’t even have one of the new synthetics backing them up, just an aging combat robot that Cal suspected was nearing its cybernetic retirement. God knows how the civilian research team had felt touching down without a heavily weaponized escort. It seemed the military weren’t the only ones with rash incompetents dishing out orders. But in truth, it was more than the lack of intel and idiotic orders that was causing Cal his unease. A primal instinct was welling up inside him and encroaching the rational part of his brain. It wasn’t a feeling he could explain, but it was there and was growing in intensity. As they entered the clouds, he gripped the back of the flight chair hard, knuckles turning white. He’d been to plenty of hellholes in his time, often filled with beasts straight from a child’s nightmare—or an adult’s for that matter. Planets where even the ships were attacked. And others where the flora demonstrated a larger appetite than the fauna. On all of those occasions, however, data drones had already dished out comprehensive intel. They’d always known what they were getting into and were as prepared as possible. Not only that but his team was usually just a part of multiple squads, all armed to the teeth.
“It’s not like you to be so tense, Cal.”
Despite his anxiety, Cal smiled. Sinclair only used his name when she was worried about him. “I’m fine. Just a bit frustrated. I’m not sure our superiors have been diligent enough on this one.”
“Captain Decker?”
Cal’s smile morphed into a grimace. “None other. It’s not the first time he’s been responsible for a bullshit mission, and I suspect it won’t be the last.” Cal had tried to confront the captain before departing the starship, but the man had supposedly been indisposed—no doubt filling his belly in the officer’s club. Cal felt annoyed at himself. He should have tried harder, found the man, and forced some sense into him. Cal’s team was a tough, capable lot, but they weren’t infallible. They were his responsibility. They relied on him to minimize the risks. Dangerous missions were part of the job; suicide missions weren’t. He couldn’t help feeling that he’d let them down on this mission before it had even started.
Leaning forward, he peered through the cockpit’s window. If it was that bad, he could always abort the mission, retreat out of the atmosphere, and demand reinforcements to aid in the rescue. He’d happily take whatever reprimand Captain Decker dished out. But then again, if it truly were that bad and the civilians weren’t already dead, they’d no doubt be in dire need, and time would be of the essence.
Finally, they burst through the last of the clouds. Cal leaned further forward, holding his breath as he did so.
Then, he slowly let the breath go, his eyebrows rising. Through the window, as far as the eye could see, were far-reaching views of green, rolling hills peppered with vast patches of vibrant flowers, and calm, glittering lakes.
After a few moments, Sinclair turned to him with a smile. “Looks like a peaceful paradise to me.”
Inclined to agree, Cal stood up straight and rubbed the back of his head.
Weirdly, he felt almost deflated.
CHAPTER TWO
“Yep, I wouldn’t wish this lethal, dark pit of a planet on my worst enemy.”
Cal turned to see Corporal Franco nudging what looked like a large daisy with the toe of his boot. Cal shook his head and tried to remember exactly why he considered the man a good friend. “You might just make me your worst enemy if you keep that up, Corporal.”
Franco shrugged. “I’m serious, sir. I’m not sure all of us are gonna make it this time.” He nudged the flower again and looked down. “Maybe none of us.”
Cal turned to Becker. “Sergeant.”
“Yes, boss.” Becker sidled up to him, pulse rifle nestled firmly in her grip.
“When this mission’s over, remind me I need to kick Corporal Franco’s ass.”
Becker smiled. “Delegate that one if you would, sir. Be nice to do it under orders for a change.”
“Good, then consider it an order. As long as you promise not to pull your punches.” Cal walked forward a few paces and continued to take in the surroundings. They’d landed by the first drone, which was situated at edge of a small lake, its surface rippling in the gentle breeze. The clouds overhead had mostly dissipated to reveal a neighboring planet, large and pale in the vibrant, blue sky. Having risen from the east just like Earth, the light from two suns beamed down and glittered on the water. Cal had half an urge to strip off his armor and take a dip. The water was crystal clear, and Malloy, the team’s science officer, had alre
ady tested it and deemed it safe. But there was work to be done. He’d sent the veterans Orisho, Wilson, and the eager young Couter scouting for signs of pirates or scavengers. With any luck, the two older men with their wealth of experience would be a good influence on the rookie. They had been for him—still were to a large extent. So far, Cal wasn’t overly worried about the wildlife. The most dangerous creatures they’d spotted as yet had been a small flock of white birds swirling through the bright blue sky, which Franco was quick to observe had quite pointy beaks. No matter how pleasant the surroundings, however, he knew it wasn’t smart to become complacent.
Turning, Cal strolled toward the big, solid block of dark metal that towered over the rest of his team. The drone had traveled vast distances before entering Capsun 23’s atmosphere. It and its two identical kin had then detached from each other and gone their separate ways, spreading out over the planet’s surface. On reaching its designated sector, the drone had anchored itself into the ground, where its single-minded AI immediately began to drink in the unsurveyed planet’s secrets. Cal looked down to where the drone’s multi-jointed, spiked legs had pounded down and twisted into the earth. The legs looked as though they’d been pulled from some sort of giant, mechanical arachnid—a hard, ugly beast mercilessly seizing the soft, serene landscape. Cal hoped that whatever colony ended up here was a damn sight prettier in design than this metallic monstrosity.
Heading to the drones before the research base had been a decision dictated in part by protocol but mostly by Captain Decker’s insistence. The captain had clearly marked the retrieval of all three drones as priority, and his orders were clear without an ounce of room for misinterpretation. During the briefing, Cal had told the team that rescue was their primary objective, and if it were up to him, it would be. But he doubted if any of them, bar perhaps the rookie Couter, were fooled. The research base was privately owned and therefore had no monetary worth to the military. The fact that there were twenty-eight living souls running the base didn’t seem to enter the equation. The rescue of the civilians was of course part of their mission but only once all three drone assets were secured. In the end, it was one more piece of idiocy that made Cal sick to his stomach. Right now, he had no idea what sort of trouble the civilians were in, and the recovery of each drone would add up to a hell of a lot of time.
