HART
OF HONOR
GREGORY SANDERS
Hart Of Honor
Copyright © 2017 by Gregory Sanders
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.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2017
To Julie, my own personal Sovereign Angel.
Without her love and support this book
would not have been possible.
PROLOGUE
The air was stale in the room. The Perseverance had been abandoned years ago, its power core only able to produce enough meager life support for a handful of people. It had taken too much damage as it entered into the asteroid field to merit trying to salvage it, and many of its sections were exposed to the harshness of space. Now it floated with the asteroids, left to send a warning signal to future ships that might come through this area. An area that was little traveled due to being on the border of two major powers and a third territory now abandoned and restricted. Which made it the perfect location for this meeting. A meeting of three individuals that would forever change the universe.
These three had been preparing for this day for many years. Some, almost their entire life. These were the followers of Kamseth, an ancient Morgalan priest, who had taught that chaos and evil lingered in the minds of free peoples. To control chaos and evil, one has to remove a person's freedom. Thereby limiting the options of their mind. They had already done many things in service to their faith. They had lied to friends and family, sacrificed their personal goals, and each had recruited others to the join their cause. Now everything was in place, and the time for action had come. This day would be remembered by those who came after them as the day when Kamseth's will was realized.
“Is everything in order?” asked a hooded figure barely visible in the dimly lit room. Several other hooded figures nodded in confirmation.
"Good. This universe has been plagued by petty squabbles of petty nations for far too long." the figure continued. "The people desperately have a need for leadership, but are met only by the greed of their governments."
“Agreed, brother.” A female figure spoke up. “We must fulfill the will of Kamseth and bring order to the people, regardless of their current leadership.”
A third figure then spoke. "However, we must be cautious as we proceed. Nothing bites harder than a cornered dog fearing for its life, and we will be facing three."
“Cautious yes, but determined.” The first figure countered. “We cannot wait any longer.” A murmur of agreement followed. “For too long the emperors, kings, and ministers of the universe have ruled and lavished themselves at the expense of their peoples. No more. We know what we must do. No matter the cost, we must succeed. Our agents are in place, and we have managed to prepare a few ships of our own.”
“We should start with the Terrans.” offered the female figure. “Their nation is the youngest, and they are in the most need. We eliminated their king and queen several years ago to see if their people would take the opportunity to rid themselves of their tyranny. Sadly, they chose to mourn and appoint a child to be their new queen.”
"A good place to start," the third figure agreed. "Their collapse will make the other two easier to accomplish."
“Very well.” the first figure agreed. “Let the work begin”.
CHAPTER 1
"I hate my job." Joshua Whitaker muttered.
"Say again, Patrol Four?" came a voice over his headset. Crap, I forgot to mute the mic again. Whitaker thought.
"Nothing to report, Sentry Command," he replied. When he joined the Commonwealth Fleet immediately after graduating secondary school, his parents were shocked. They had such high hopes for their only son attending one of the science academies, but instead, he enlisted in the Fleet. He was going to serve his King, and explore the universe. He applied to pilot school and was accepted, one step closer to his dream of being a Lancer pilot and space hero. Unfortunately for him, his combat training scores were too low, and so a choice was to be made: border patrol or shuttle pilot. Well, at least I get to fly a Lancer this way. Border patrol along the Quarantine Zone, or QZ as they called it, was about as exciting as watching grass grow. Grass. Now that's something I haven't seen in a long time. I'm going to have to go and visit Mom and Dad back on Terranova on my next leave. He remembered the days of his youth, lying on the grass in the warmth of the sun. Maybe I should have gone to the academy. I'd probably see more of the universe as a science officer than a border guard that is guarding nothing. In the hundred years since the signing of the treaty between the Commonwealth and the Rylan Protectorate, no patrol had ever recorded anything being out here. Most Terrans believed that the QZ was just made up to scare little children, that it wasn't real. Oh, it's real all right... real boring.
He was startled out of his thoughts by the proximity alarm's loud beeping. He looked at the sensor console and couldn't believe it. There was an inbound blip on his screen, and it was accelerating toward him. "What the...?" he blurted. He performed a slow roll to make sure it wasn't a glitch in the system. The blip correctly tracked during the roll, which meant it was real. Better call it in. he decided.
"Patrol Four to Sentry Command. I've got an unknown contact coming out of the Quarantine Zone and headed my way moving at a high rate of speed." Whitaker announced.
"Are you yanking my chain, Whitaker? Run diagnostics on your system!" The voice was that of the station's commanding officer, Commander Jason Rutledge. Whitaker ran the self-diagnostic program on his sensor system and watched one by one as each system return a green 'all good' signal. He was getting a knot in his stomach. Something about all this just felt bad.
"System is green!" Whitaker responded. "Contact still inbound! Estimate contact in 4... 3... 2... 1...." Then nothing but silence. He disappeared from the sensor screen on board the station.
"Whitaker... report! Whitaker...? Whitaker...?" bellowed the station commander.
"We've lost all readings, sir. The ship is just gone!" the sensor officer reported. "One second he was there, then gone. We're not picking up any signs of debris, but we did read a sudden high energy pulse at the same time we lost contact."
Rutledge's face looked as though he had been punched in the stomach. He had never lost a man under his command before. That look was soon replaced by one of determination. "Get me a secure channel to Fleet Command. We've got to call this in!"
***
I'm so bored. Queen Constance thought as she tried to pretend that she cared about what the two Barons in front of her were arguing about. For the past hour, they had been debating the shade of blue for the tablecloths to be used during the upcoming three hundredth anniversary celebration of the founding of the Commonwealth six months away. Carolina Blue or Baby Blue, they look the same to me. She knew that no one outside of these two will notice, or even care, which shade it is. What shade of blue is the depression these two are driving me into? Baron Zhi of Rigelis Beta was her cousin and would expect her to decide in his favor because of their shared bloodline. Baron Stuggart of Germanica would, of course, want her to rule in his favor since his family has had 'close ties to the court' for generations. She could hear their voices echoing from the high ceilings of the room, but wasn't listening to their words.
"Your Majesty can obviously see the difference
," Baron Zhi interrupted her mind's wandering. "The Carolina Blue is a perfect complement to the rest of the decor, whereas the Baby Blue is just, well juvenile." Baron Zhi was holding two fabric samples towards her, and they both were waiting for her to finally end the debate.
The Queen looked at the two samples. "Personally, I think..."
"Your Majesty!" shouted Fleet Admiral Hawthorne as he burst into the throne room. "Please forgive my interruption, but we just received a priority message from Sentry Command. There has been an 'incident' at the QZ border."
At the very mention of the Quarantine Zone, she perked up. Nothing has ever happened in the QZ for as long as they have been patrolling it. "Did our ship cross into the Quarantine Zone?"
"No Your Majesty. According to sensor records, our scout ship was still well within our borders." Hawthorne answered.
Baron Stuggart injected himself into the conversation. “Your Majesty, it would be wise to ready our forces in that sector. The Rylans will have to be informed as well, per our treaty.”
“Those would perhaps be wise things, but wouldn't it be wiser to wait for more information? After all, it wouldn't look good for us to 'cry wolf' only to find that the problem was communication or sensor related,” she countered. "If the two of you don't mind, the Admiral and I have urgent matters to discuss," she said as she dismissed them.
After the barons had left the room she continued. "So, what do we know?"
"Very little, Your Majesty. Our ship was on routine patrol and checking in at the required intervals. Nothing out of the ordinary until it disappeared, or was destroyed. So far Sentry Command has not picked up any readings from an escape pod either." he concluded. "They are sending out a salvage ship to see if they can get more information from any wreckage they can find."
Though she was relieved to be finished discussing decorations, this conversation replacement was anything but welcomed. "Admiral, please continue with your investigation," the Queen instructed. "Inform me as soon as you hear anything from our border station, and tell the station commander that we will make available any resources that he needs."
Admiral Hawthorne bowed. “As soon as I find out anything, you'll be the first to know, Your Majesty.”
"Oh, Admiral? Thank you for saving me from a case of the blues," she said with a slight grin.
***
For Commander Jason Rutledge, Sentry Command was a retirement command. He only had three years left before he could qualify for full retirement benefits and was looking forward to seeing his grandkids. This was to be his sunset command, a quiet post to ride out his term. Sure, there had been a few minor scuffles among the crew members over the past year since his arrival, but that was to be expected. When you put one hundred and thirty-five people, military, scientist, and civilian, in a square half kilometer, a few dust-ups are bound to happen.
This was not a crew fight though, this was a military situation. They had lost contact with a patrol ship, presumably destroyed, but by what? Whitaker had called in a fast moving contact, but they didn't pick it up on the station sensors. So, what was it? Collision with a meteor or asteroid? No, that can't be it. We already scanned the area for stellar bodies, even the small ones. Foreign ship? Couldn't be. Could it? The Rylans have no reason for any of their military ships being on this side of Terran space, much less attacking one of our ships. Speculation at this point was useless. The salvage ship would be on site any minute, and then hopefully they would have some answers.
Waiting was the hardest part of anything. Now, here he was, standing on the command deck of Sentry Command waiting for the salvage ship to confirm what he already knew. Patrol Four was gone, Joshua Whitaker was dead, and as soon as those facts were confirmed, he would have to make a family notification call. A call he was not looking forward to. How do I tell a family 'Your son died in service to the Commonwealth, but I can't tell you any details' without it sounding like a form letter? Rutledge wondered. Granted, Whitaker wasn't his favorite officer. He complained about everything and was lazy too. But still, he was a member of the Commonwealth Fleet, and a member of Rutledge's crew, and deserved the honor that came with that designation. "Comms, when will the salvage ship be in position?" He asked the communication officer in an impatient tone. He was tired of waiting. Let's just get this part over with, so we can move on to what we do next.
“In about 30 seconds.” replied the Communication Officer.
"Thank you, Lieutenant..." Rutledge drew a blank, probably because his mind was more focused what was going on than good officer etiquette. What was this guy's name again? He knew the names of the command staff on day shift, which is when he normally was on duty, but it's hard to remember the names of people you hardly ever see on the night shift.
"Babcock, sir." assisted the fresh-faced comms officer.
Rutledge noted his eagerness and chuckled inwardly. So young. So eager. Oh, to be a fledgling officer again, and not have to deal with the pressures of command. Even has the thought cross his mind, he dismissed it. He wouldn't trade roles with the young lieutenant for anything. Rutledge had always loved command, ever since his first stint as an interim commanding officer of a Pathfinder class ship years ago. It wasn't that he enjoyed giving orders to subordinates, but rather that his mind was ever inquisitive and the commanding officer had the most access to information. He had a good mind for quickly analyzing information and making good decisions based on it. Sentry Command was the first space station he had ever been in command of. It'll be the only one too. If not for his pending retirement, he would have already requested a transfer back to some ship. He thought that he understood the sailors from the water ships of Earth's history. They liked being on the move. He did too. Life on the station was too routine for him. That is, until now.
He forced his mind back to the events at hand. Even if somehow the life pod was still functioning, which was highly doubtful since the sensors would have picked it up already, it still wouldn't answer the question of what attacked his ship. Rutledge pondered. His ship, from his station, which made all of this his responsibility. Life was so much easier when I was a lieutenant.
"Commander, this salvage ship is in position," Babcock announced.
"Put it up on the viewer," Rutledge ordered.
An image of a small cockpit appeared on the screen. A middle-aged man in a mechanic's jumpsuit in the center of the frame. "Sentry Command, we are at the coordinates, but there is no ship or debris. Whatever happened out here didn't leave any wreckage. We're headed back to base now. Salvage One out."
Now it was confirmed. There wouldn't even be a body to ship back home. This call was going to be a real tough one. "I'll be in my quarters," he announced and started to walk off the command deck. He didn't make five steps before being needed again.
“Commander," the sensor officer, Ensign Lucas Donaldson, blurted out. "There's something out there! It keeps appearing and disappearing at the edge of our sensor range. Like it knows how far we can see. All I can tell you is that it isn't moving, it big enough to be some kind of large craft, and it is definitely in the Quarantine Zone.”
"Sensors, can we focus more power in that direction and get a better reading?" Rutledge asked as he walked back to his chair and took a seat. Crap! Can't we get a break here? First, he had lost an officer, and now an alien ship was scouting them from just across the border.
"Negative, Commander. I've already got it turned up all the way. The only way we're going to get a better read on it is to send out a reconnaissance ship." Ensign Donaldson replied.
“Get me a secure line to Fleet Command. We need to let them know what is going on. I think this perennially boring border post is about to be anything but boring.” Rutledge lowered and shook his head. Today, I really miss being a lieutenant.
***
As Admiral Hawthorne walked down the hall toward the throne room, he couldn't help but notice that he was getting a headache. First, a patrol ship monitoring the Quarantine Zone was lost, now they were getti
ng sparse readings of something large just outside of sensor range in the Quarantine Zone. Throughout his career in the Fleet, he had never heard of so much as a sensor anomaly coming from that area of space. Now, there had been two different incidents there in the span of a few hours. This is bigger than a lost patrol ship, he thought as he walked. I don't believe in coincidences. But two mysterious events happening in the QZ on the same day? Something much bigger is going on, and we don't know what yet. I just hope we figure it out before it’s too late. He had reached the end of the long hallway that led to the throne room. Queen Constance would be wanting more information than he had at this time. How could he reassure his Queen that her realm was safe and that the Commonwealth Fleet could keep things that way if he didn't even know who the enemy was, or if there actually is an enemy?
Though she was his Queen, Hawthorne also thought of Queen Constance like a niece. His little 'Connie'. Her father, King Johnathan, and he had been good friends most of their lives. They came up through command academy together, Johnathan was there because all members of the family in the line of succession were required and expected to become officers in the Commonwealth Fleet. Command academy was a method for a future ruler to learn leadership, tactics, and understand the military that would one day serve them. After Johnathan graduated and returned to the palace, Hawthorne had continued advancing in the Fleet, becoming the youngest man to reach the rank of Commodore in Fleet history at the young age of 43. Since he held a flag rank, Johnathan appointed him to be Fleet Admiral upon his coronation and the formation of his advisory panel. Their friendship had grown over the years, and the day of the bombing in Deimos Square hit Hawthorne hard. He lost his good friend that day, and Connie lost her parents. Since then, he and his wife Felicia had stepped in to try and be surrogate parents for her as much as they could with her being their queen.
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