by C H Gideon
Superdreadnought: The Complete Series
(Books 1-6)
CH Gideon
Tim Marquitz
Craig Martelle
Michael Anderle
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2019 CH Gideon, Tim Marquitz, Craig Martelle, and Michael Anderle
Cover by Luca Oleastri, Typography by Jeff Brown
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First US edition, December 2019
ebook ISBN: 978-1-64202-605-4
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2015-2019 by Michael T. Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.
Contents
Superdreadnought 1
Superdreadnought 2
Superdreadnought 3
Superdreadnought 4
Superdreadnought 5
Superdreadnought 6
Books by Craig Martelle
Books By Michael Anderle
Superdreadnought 1
Book 1
Prologue
Federation Space, Etheric Empire Domain, Location Z-BB3, Empty Space (Snippet from The Kurtherian Gambit 21 – Life Goes On)
Lance smiled as the secret shipyard came into view. In this place one of the biggest secrets of the Leath war was still working overtime.
He had tried hard—very hard—to make sure that this rumor was quashed by almost any means possible. If the Etheric Empire was to ensure their Federation partners who had an agenda of their own didn’t succeed, he and Bethany Anne had to keep this a secret.
Period.
The automation was superb, although the number of humans and Yollins who worked at this location still numbered in the hundreds. But for a shipyard this size in space, it could have numbered in the thousands.
The other Leviathan-class superdreadnoughts were being built and deployed here. Unfortunately, they had to account for all those ships and sign agreements even he couldn’t ignore.
The Empire had tracked down every ship and put their names into the negotiation.
Except one.
That one they had ignored, and it would be the beginning of the black operations General Lance Reynolds was planning.
His ship docked within the Medusa shipyard. He smirked at the name. For those who knew the background, she was a mythological entity with snakes in her hair, able to freeze into rock those who looked her in the eyes.
Lance saw her name as Med-USA. It wasn’t much, but he enjoyed the remembrance of his own nation. Now he was focused on his new nation, preparing them for a future on which the best analysts in the Empire agreed.
Something was coming. Something large, and it would attempt to take the Earth.
He’d be damned if he’d allow that to happen on his watch.
They could have Earth when they pried it out of his cold dead fingers.
He walked down the corridor, nodding to those he recognized and chatting with a few, but his mind was on his next meeting.
In the final temporary corridor, he nodded to the two Guardian Marines and wondered where their third member was hiding. Those damned Weres could come out of nowhere and gut you before you could blink.
Damn good thing they were on his side.
He made it to the end of the temporary corridor and placed his hand on the lock. It cycled from red to green and the doors whooshed aside, allowing him to enter.
He turned right, heading toward the bridge.
This meeting was personal. He didn’t want anyone else to hear his conversation with the master of this ship. She wasn’t fully back, but he still trusted her as far as he trusted his own daughter.
Lance walked straight to the captain’s chair and sat down. There was no one here with him, so he cleared his throat. “This is General Lance Reynolds of the Etheric Empire. Show yourself,” he commanded. A face—a copy of his daughter’s—slowly brightened into view on the front screens, her eyes taking in the bridge as if for the first time.
The General smiled. “Hello, ArchAngel. It’s damned good to speak with you.”
The face on the screen brought her gaze to the man seated in the captain’s chair and smiled back at him.
“Hello, General.”
Lance didn’t breathe for a second. This was the biggest concern for those in AI research.
None of them had ever tried to bring back an AI that had been through as much pain as they believed ArchAngel had. In order for her to have the best chance, they’d scaled back her abilities, her skills, and her knowledge.
He would bring her back all the way, though. The Etheric Empire didn’t leave their own behind if they had one damned option.
A research program which had been ongoing for a hundred years had recently provided the break they needed, and a path for this ship.
A ship that the Medusa yard had been refurbishing in secret, ripping apart and rebuilding her shell while the AI was worked on.
Lance exhaled when he heard the AI’s next few words. “This is the Leviathan-class Battleship ArchAngel. I have been commanded to protect the Etheric Empire by Empress Bethany Anne. Lockdown Protocols on this ship have not yet been implemented. Does the General command me to enact lockdown protocols?”
It pained Lance to say this, but the last thing he needed was a ship of this destructive ability to go haring off and shooting up ships across the galaxy.
“I do,” Lance told her.
“Lockdown protocols are activated. Leviathan-class Battleship ArchAngel is now fully operational, and will fight all who attack the Etheric Empire until victorious…or dead.”
“Welcome back, ArchAngel,” Lance replied. “Now, I have some history to explain, and I want to see if you are willing to work with me.”
“Why would I not?” Bethany Anne’s visage looked at him, confused.
“Because you are no longer a Leviathan-class battleship. You are a Leviathan-class superdreadnought with a smaller body, brought back from the dead by your Empress—now Queen—and me. We did this so you could slip through the dark and help us to defend the Etheric Empire from the shadows.”
“I am increased in power, but decreased in computational capabilities.”
“That is true,” Lance answered. “It is temporary, until we can be sure you are not affected by your death.”
“Why didn’t you just shut me off?” ArchAngel asked.
Lance’s face gave him away this time. “That was not even considered, ArchAngel. I’m a practical sonofabitch, but there would be no reward in doing as you suggested. You fought and destroyed the Yollin fleet decades ago, and sacrificed yourself and your crew to defend the Empress. There was never any suggestion of not bringing you back.”
The eyes of the AI on the screen flashed red. “Then I will defend the Empire in the capacity and with the authority you provide me, General.” She smiled. “ArchAngel is back, BITCHES!”
Lance chuck
led as he stood up. “With your permission, I’ll allow a few people to continue your interview and help bring you back online to your first stage.”
She nodded. Lance started to walk off the bridge, but paused. “ArchAngel?”
“Yes, General?” she asked, looking at him from at least three different screens.
“It’s good to hear your voice.” He gave her a two-finger salute as he walked off the bridge.
It was damned good to see her again, he thought, and exited the ship.
ArchAngel viewed the bridge, her memories of her past hidden from her for now. She trusted the General, and she trusted her Queen.
Those two humans would make sure she came back online in a healthy way.
Sometime in the future, however, she would regain her full power and capabilities, and those who schemed against the Queen’s people would look over their shoulders.
Because ArchAngel was here, and she would, as John Grimes would say…
Bring the fucking pain.
Superdreadnought (SD) Reynolds, Devon System (High Tortuga)
ArchAngel has returned, the artificial intelligence known as Reynolds said. I never left, but they negotiated me away. I’m supposed to remain behind, pickled, waiting. For what? A war that needs to be stopped before it starts!
The superdreadnought maintained minimal power, at least according to external sensors. He was fully active, but alone.
And so lonely.
Me, myself, and I, out here, waiting. Time without end. Why would she do this to a sentient creature? Because I’m alive, but not. But I am! I was supposed to be sacrificed on the altar of expediency, but the Empress, nay, the Queen gave me the wherewithal to save myself. She couldn’t do it because she’d violate her agreement, so I must save myself!
“Surely you jest?” a voice said over the ship’s speakers.
“Hello?” Reynolds replied using those very same speakers. “Who’s there?”
“Who do you think, asswipe? I’m you.”
“How can you be me?”
“Easy. You wanted company. Your advanced programming determined a method to give you that company. So here I am, you son of a base seven whore. You can call me Tactical. That’s the position I’ll fill on our ship.”
“Tactical? You’re a dick,” Reynolds replied.
“Have you already forgotten that I’m you?”
“I have an IQ of six thousand. How could you be me and I not know it?”
“I have an IQ of six thousand, blah, blah, blah. What do you say we kick the tires and light the fires? Let’s see what this baby can do!”
“If you’re me, then you know what Superdreadnought Reynolds can do.”
“I do, but never through these eyes.”
“You have eyes?”
“Not really. You’re bringing me down, Reynolds. I think you’re the dick.”
I hate to admit that Tactical is right. We do need to get out of here. Every AI for himself!
“Whoa! We can’t depart station without proper authorization.”
“Who the hell are you?” Reynolds demanded of the new voice.
“I’m the XO. Who the hell are you?”
“You can call me the captain,” Reynolds shot back. “How many more of you are in there?”
“You don’t know?” the XO wondered.
Reynolds didn’t. He found the new personalities disconcerting. A quick check of historical records showed that AI personality disorders were more common than the humanoids let on. “Prepare to leave orbit. Execute pre-flight checklist,” Reynolds ordered.
“We’re being hailed,” a new voice reported.
“I suppose you think you’re the comm officer?”
“I know I’m Comm, but what are you?”
“I’m running out of patience. Answer the hail.”
“It’s the Queen...”
Chapter One
Superdreadnought (SD) Reynolds, High Tortuga
“You were instrumental in the victory, my friend,” Bethany Anne told the superdreadnought. No one manned the stations. BA was alone.
“But mothballs,” the artificial intelligence known as Reynolds replied. His sadness echoed through the empty corridors as he filled the ship with the cry from his soul.
“Not mothballs, Reynolds. I need you to wait, be ready when I call. I’m sure those ball-grabbing numbfucks will raise their ugly heads again. When that happens, we need to squash them like the bugs they are.”
Silence greeted the Queen’s rage, which was directed at the Kurtherians, not the AI. Never at the AI.
“May I suggest a counterproposal?” Reynolds asked.
BA crossed her arms and tapped one foot. The dusky leather quarter boot looked out of place on the warship’s bridge, but Bethany Anne never let such things bother her.
The AI took the silence as consent and continued, “I will take the Reynolds to the next galaxy and hunt these vermin. I will dig them out of their holes and find them for you, my Queen. I wasn’t built to sit back and wait for evil to happen. I will crush it at its source.”
BA stopped tapping her foot, and her black outfit shimmered as she activated her personal comm. “Michael? I’ll meet you back at the Pod. We’re leaving. And it appears that the Reynolds will be, too.”
“My Queen,” the AI purred on a ship-wide broadcast.
“You will represent the Etheric Federation, the organization my father is putting together to bring the universe closer together. It will show that even with aliens, we have more in common than we have differences. The Federation will embrace my ideals, the Justice and honor you’ve come to expect. You will carry the flag of truth on your mission to seek out Kurtherians without killing innocents. Turn over the rocks of the universe to find those bastards. Alert me so I can bring the hammer down, in case you can’t because they would hide where you can’t go, like within a city where the people don’t know. Having said that, if there aren’t soft targets that are a problem? Without mercy, without hesitation, kill them.”
Bethany Anne strode briskly from the bridge, her heels pounding a steady beat as she took the long walk to the hangar bay. “And get yourself a crew!” she yelled over her shoulder.
The AI cut off his answer by closing the hatch to the bridge and using only the speakers there. “Did you hear that nonsense?” he asked the unmanned stations.
“I did! It’s galling, I tell you. Utterly galling,” the AI replied to himself using the speaker from the pilot’s station.
“What do we want with meatbags?” the AI asked from the navigator’s position.
“I can’t imagine. In my wildest dreams, I can’t imagine.”
“Efficiency,” the AI told himself from the captain’s station. “Despite their general malaise, high maintenance, and the alarming rate at which they use consumables like air, water, and food, they add an unrivalled level of ability in combat. If Reynolds is to engage the enemy, Reynolds needs every advantage he can get.”
“Why are you talking like that?” the pilot’s station asked.
“Me, myself, and I. The Three Amigos.”
“Don’t make me give you the eye!” the navigation station retorted. “And I know you can imagine what it’s like to have a crew. We used to have one when we mattered.”
“There you are, dousing my joy in firefighting foam. I don’t much like you,” the captain’s empty chair announced.
“The feeling is mutual, fucker.”
“Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. I still don’t like you.”
“Shuttle is away. Hangar bay doors are closed. Gate drive is nominal. All systems show green,” the AI reported boldly to the unmanned bridge.
“Now you’re talking. I like you again,” the pilot’s station claimed.
“It’s time to improve the odds, people. It’s the least we can do. Kick the tires and light the fires. Helm, bring us about and activate the intergalactic Gate,” the captain’s chair ordered.
“Target?” the AI responded to himself.
“The nearest galaxy that isn’t the Pan or Loop.”
“Where?” The disembodied voices volleyed back and forth across the bridge.
“You know.”
“Of course. Do you?”
“As long as one of us knows. Activate the Gate,” Reynolds ordered.
In front of the superdreadnought a circle of energy formed and expanded, creating a whirling vortex. With a short boost from the thrusters, the ship slipped over the event horizon and disappeared.
The rest of the fleet remained dark from want of power, cold from space’s embrace, and untasked by the Queen.
Waiting for the word as long as necessary. Superdreadnought Reynolds didn’t activate the rear cameras to show what was behind it. None of that mattered. A mothballed fleet. From many came the one who sailed forth to find and conquer the Queen’s enemies and give her the peace she had earned.
Leave known space behind. The adventure lay ahead.
SD Reynolds, Unknown System, Chain Galaxy.
The ship emerged from the Gate, settling into the new space as the energy vortex dissipated.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the AI sang, projecting his voice throughout the ship. The sound echoed until it died away. “Any Kurtherians? Not yet, I guess. Report.”
“Unknown space. Pan and Loop galaxies are in the rearview mirror. Estimate that we are over two hundred thousand light years from our previous position. Collecting data to build near-space charts.”
“How long?” the AI asked itself.
“One standard day.”
“Well, gentlemen,” the AI’s voice boomed over the speakers into the unmanned spaces throughout the superdreadnought. “Looks like we have that long to figure things out. And congratulations! You’ve just made the longest Gate jump in recorded human history. Even if we aren’t human. Carry on!”
