First Command

by Scott Bartlett

  “But sir…that would mean firing in the direction of the planet. If we miss…”

  Thatcher nodded. Normally, he wouldn’t condone anyone questioning his orders, but Ortega’s fear was legitimate. No one wanted nuclear warheads exploding within the Oasis’ atmosphere. “According to Commander Ainsley, we should be able to divert the missiles remotely. But in case we can’t, Guerrero, I want you to order the two reserve corvettes to chase the Eagle as well, so that they’re in position to neutralize those missiles.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The first Hellborn left the missile tube, sending a tremor through the ship that vibrated Thatcher in his chair. A tense silence had descended over the CIC, each officer bent to their task as the Jersey hurtled through the sensor fog after her quarry. The two warships were in a race to be the first to overcome the omnidirectional jamming—the first to react to whatever new reality had gripped the battlespace.

  The second Hellborn launched. Then, minutes later, the third.

  Thatcher’s gaze was glued to his holoscreen. The tactical display program was smart enough to track the destroyer’s projected course across the void, representing its expected position as a ghostly, segmented outline of the vessel. Once it regained the benefit of sensor data, it would update with its actual position.

  The fourth Hellborn launched.

  At last, Guerrero spoke, her voice shaking, but this time with excitement instead of uncertainty. “Sir, the Squall is feeding us updated sensor data. The Eagle is exactly where you said she would be.”

  Thatcher took no time to celebrate the victory. “Forward that sensor data to all four Hellborns, Guerrero. They’ll need it to zero in on the target. Helm, begin deceleration.”

  “Aye, sir,” came the reply from both officers.

  The Eagle had also regained its bearings, it seemed. Her gunner crews sprang to life, batteries spitting secondary lasers to intercept the Jersey’s ordnance. One Hellborn went down. Then, a second.

  Thatcher’s heart sank. It seemed certain now that they would intercept a third, and maybe the fourth. Even if they didn’t get them all, one missile wasn’t likely to do the damage Thatcher knew would be needed to end this.

  “Ortega—”

  But he fell silent as both missiles slipped through the laserfire to slam into the Eagle’s stern. The first blew open a broad section of hull, and the other took out one of the destroyer’s two primary thrusters.

  She’s mine. For the first time since he took command of the New Jersey, his CIC crew bust into cheering.

  He had no choice but to cut it short. “Resume full acceleration, Helm. Guerrero, contact Pegg.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Seconds later, Pegg’s bald head gleamed in the holotank. He’d taken his sunglasses off to reveal small gray eyes, which were about as wide as they could go and filled with rage. He said nothing.

  “We have you, Pegg. I’ll extend my offer one last time before I turn your ship to scrap. Surrender and depart this system with every Reardon ship, leaving the surviving pirates to us. Never return.”

  “Fine,” Pegg spat.

  “Give the order to disengage now. You will keep your ship where she is until all your other ships have left. Show me one sign of going back on your word, and this will be your last day.”

  He signaled for Guerrero to cut off the transmission. And when Pegg disappeared from the holotank, Thatcher leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as the tension leaked from his body.

  His worst fear hadn’t been realized. The Xanthic had not arrived to back up Reardon.

  That was both a relief and a worry. If they hadn’t struck here, it might mean they were planning for something bigger.

  He simply didn’t know. The Xanthic’s motives seemed just as alien as they did.

  Chapter Forty

  On Oasis Helio Base 5

  Freedom System, Dupliss Region

  Earth Year 2290

  “Take a look at this, Tad.” Veronica Rose swiveled the holoscreen till it faced him. “It’s a sensor suite upgrade for a brand-new type of sensor. Apparently Nutronics is the first to offer it in the Dawn Cluster.”

  “Hmm?” Thatcher said, blinking. “Oh.”

  He’d been lost in thought about his recent interrogations of pirates who Mittelman said were connected with those that had fought against Captain Vaughn alongside the Xanthic warship.

  Every one of them had claimed that no pirate had an alliance with the Xanthic. According to their version of events, no one among the crews of the pirate ships that had fought the Jersey had even known the alien ship was with them in the gas giant’s cloud. It simply rose up to join the engagement on their side, and had disappeared the moment the Jersey had fled. They didn’t mean it had left the system—according to every account Thatcher heard, it had literally vanished.

  Of course, these were all second-hand accounts, and if just one or two of them had claimed these things, he would have dismissed them out of hand. But other than a few errant details, the stories he heard were all remarkably similar. It seemed the story of the Xanthic’s appearance had affected the pirate world just as much as it would affect the rest of the Cluster, if and when it got out.

  Thatcher studied the display Rose was showing him, reflecting on the fact she’d called him “Tad” again. He didn’t remember when that had started, but he was sure he didn’t like it. “A polarization sensor?”

  She nodded. “For detecting antimatter engines, even after they’ve left the system.”

  He narrowed his eyes and read over the Nutronics marketing copy. “Not sure what the use case would be. Unless it can match antimatter emissions to the ship that produced them, which I doubt. Nearly every system we pass through is bound to be crisscrossed with antimatter trails.”

  “What about in Contested Systems? Chasing down pirates and the like?”

  “Most pirate ships still run on fission.”

  “True. But this could still be useful to have.”

  He shrugged, allowing himself a brief smile. “If I don’t have to sacrifice anything for it, and Frontier’s willing to pay for it, then I’ll sign off on it.”

  Rose smiled back. “For the New Jersey? After her performance against Reardon? Yes, I do believe Frontier’s willing to pay for it.”

  He nodded and turned back to studying his own holoscreen, but not before he caught the prideful grins from Ainsley and Devine at the CEO’s praise. Not Candle, though. His gaze remained glued to his own holoscreen as he reviewed potential upgrades, as stoic as ever.

  They’d picked up Jimmy Devine after the battle, kept alive by his pressure suit. The thruster he’d successfully dislodged had exploded less than a minute later, but he’d managed to push himself away from it, making it far enough that none of the resultant debris found him. Thatcher knew the hours the lad had spent hurtling through the void couldn’t have been comfortable. To conserve power in those circumstances, the suit only kept its occupant warm enough to avoid freezing to death—which was still pretty cold. But Devine had survived with a couple hours of oxygen to spare, and since then he’d seemed more chipper than ever.

  How could he not, with the praise getting heaped on him? The young engineer’s actions had saved his ship, and his crewmates and superiors had taken every opportunity to make sure Devine knew it. Thatcher had included him in today’s meeting to provide context on what had happened with the auxiliary thruster, and to offer his input on any changes they made to the Jersey’s engineering plant.

  He just hoped Devine was strong enough to take all this praise without getting sloppy. He’d seen too many good officers grow ineffective as compliment after compliment swelled their heads.

  Of course, since the battle for Oasis the entire crew seemed to walk with a spring in their step. Five pirate ships had been taken in the wake of Reardon’s departure. Between the captured vessels and the scrap salvaged from ships during the engagement, there was plenty of prize money to go around, even divided between ten sh
ips. Simon Moll had declined the offer of prize money for his crews, as a gesture of goodwill at the start of Sunder’s partnership with Frontier.

  “I think we should reduce our complement of repair drones by half,” Thatcher said after playing around with the Nutronics outfitting tool for around twenty minutes. “If we shift Capacitor Module C to where Drone Bay B is now, we can place a second missile tube on our starboard side.” This was the beauty of the Gladius combat system’s modularity: it allowed a captain to adapt his system to the conditions he expected to face. The challenge lay in determining what those conditions would actually be.

  Candle looked up from his holoscreen to meet Thatcher’s eyes across the conference table. “That will make Jersey more vulnerable.”

  “Only if we’re unaccompanied by logistics ships. But it seems we’re to play a more defensive role, going forward. If we’re to honor our commitment to our new partners, we’ll need to focus on locking down Dupliss. Which makes it likely we’ll have support ships on hand at any given time.” Thatcher glanced at Rose.

  “Tad is right. It’s impossible to predict the future, but defending Dupliss looms large on our agenda. Of course, controlling the entire region with just the ships we have is another matter altogether. Still no word from UNC on whether they’re planning to share nanofab tech, or let us exceed their limit on corporate military size.”

  Thatcher wondered whether the UNC would bother replying to Rose’s request. As for Candle’s comment on reducing the Jersey’s repair drones, Thatcher didn’t begrudge him the input. On the contrary: he wanted an XO who was willing to give his honest opinion. There would inevitably be times when Thatcher was wrong about something, and if no one pointed it out to him, it could doom his ship.

  What surprised Thatcher the most was Candle’s decision to remain aboard the New Jersey as XO. Rose had offered him his own command in the Charger, but Candle had declined.

  That had cheered Thatcher…until the next time he’d spoken to Hans Mittelman.

  “Harden yourself against flattery, Commander,” the chief intelligence officer had said. “Remember that anyone at all might be another corp’s spy.”

  A smiling Nutronics employee wheeled in a tray filled with refreshments, and they each accepted a tea or coffee while helping themselves to the offered biscuits. It wasn’t much, but still a nice gesture, and aboard a Helio base the snack came close to luxury.

  They took a break from developing the Jersey’s new loadout to enjoy the cookies and beverages. Thatcher leaned back in his seat, studying the bulkhead above his XO’s head as he lost himself in thought about the recent engagement—what he could have done better, and what could have gone worse, if he’d been less fortunate. He felt no pressure to break the silence with chitchat.

  “Oh!” Rose sat straighter in her seat to fish her comm from her pocket, placing it on the tabletop. “I forgot. Simon Moll is making his first address to the Dawn Cluster.”

  She connected her comm to speakers set into the bulkheads around the room, and Moll’s booming voice sounded all around them.

  “—opposed to our cause. Ultimately, their opposition is irrelevant. Sunder Incorporated will continue to exhibit the excellence that is our hallmark. We have decades of successful military ops under our belt, and we’ve partnered with some of the Dawn Cluster’s most effective corps. If your corp is surrounded by enemies and lacking the ability to defend itself, get in touch. We are willing to extend the stability we have created in the northwest to any corp willing to work with us.”

  “Wait a second,” Devine said, looking around at his superiors. “What is he proposing, exactly?”

  Rose opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, a strident beeping replaced Moll’s voice.

  Thatcher recognized that tone: it signified a priority transmission, coming through the CEO’s comm.

  She disconnected the device from the bulkhead speakers and brought it to her ear. “Veronica Rose.”

  Her face whitened as she listened, and her eyes met Thatcher’s. Then she terminated the call without saying anything else to the caller, leapt to her feet, and stuffed the comm back into her pocket.

  “We have to go. Now. Oasis is under attack.”

  Thatcher’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible. We would have been notified the moment a warship entered the system.”

  “It’s not an attack from a warship. It’s the Xanthic. They’re attacking from under the ground, just like they did on Earth.”

  To be continued…

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  Glossary of Dawn Cluster Corporations

  Frontier Security

  CEO: Veronica Rose

  CIO: Hans Mittelman

  Frontier is a security firm that prides itself on upholding American values. Founded in Earth Year 2259 by Rear Admiral Gregory Rose, his daughter Veronica now runs the company. Her stated intention is to stay true to her father’s vision.

  Currently, Frontier forms part of the Oasis Protectorate, a conglomerate formed for the purpose of servicing and protecting American colonies located throughout the Dawn Cluster’s Dupliss Region.

  Reardon Interstellar

  CEO: Ramon Pegg

  Founded in Earth Year 2210, Reardon was one of the first PMCs (private military companies) to offer its services in the Dawn Cluster, in response to a growing threat from pirates based in the Contested Regions. Reardon identifies as an American company, but has also accepted contracts from various US trading partners, along with countries that have less-certain relationships with the USA, including China and Russia. In response to media inquiries concerning these latter contracts, Reardon CEOs have typically pointed out that, with the rise of the United Nations and Colonies, war between nations has become virtually extinct. It is therefore foolish to turn down any contracts.

  Reardon has consistently denied rumors alleging the company has engaged in hot-system skirmishes against other Dawn Cluster corporations. Reardon forms part of the Oasis Protectorate, however at the time of writing its position within the Protectorate has been called into question, with allegations being forwarded by multiple interested parties that the company has been consorting with pirates.

  Sunder Incorporated

  CEO: Simon Moll

  Sunder holds the distinction of being the first PMC to accept a security contract within the Dawn Cluster. While headquartered in Candor, a Cluster Region, the company draws its employees mostly from European countries and colonies, primarily German and Swedish. Sunder was founded in 2208 by a former UNC dreadnought commander, Captain Patrick Moen, and the company has only had two CEOs since its inception—Moen and Simon Moll.

  In the 2250s, Spanish biographer Luis Borges made the claim that Moen and Moll were the same person. As evidence, Borges highlighted Moll’s lack of a documented past before his involvement with the company, the fact there is nothing to indicate the Sunder CEOs have ever met, and a number of physical similarities between the two men. Borges claimed that Moll underwent extensive cosmetic surgery to change his identity, though he did not advance any theory of why Moll would go to these efforts.

  In recent decades, Borges’s claims have been dismissed as fringe conspiracy theory, since in order for them to be true, Moll would have to be in excess of 160 years old—twenty-seven years older than the eldest human being ever documented.

  A Note on Dawn Cluster Cartography

  In the Dawn Cluster, cardinal directions are used for ease of reference, with the black hole at the galaxy’s center acting as a “north star.”

  Terms such as north, south, east, and west are meaningful because of the Cluster’s layout. While star systems are distributed along the Z-axis, with a maximum sprea
d of 13.781 light years, the Cluster’s X- and Y-axes are much longer, at 105.134 light years and 81.240 light years respectively.

  A sample chapter from Free Space (Spacers Book 2) follows.

  If you’d prefer to just get Free Space now, click here.

  Chapter One

  New Houston, Oasis Colony

  Freedom System, Dupliss Region

  Earth Year 2290

  Corporal Jordan Wilson thought his crash seat felt like a giant’s hand, cradling him. The other jarheads would make fun of him the moment he mentioned it, so he wouldn’t, but damn, the designers had known what they were doing.

  He was ready to admit that was a strange thought to have, especially at a time like this. But he’d be damned if he didn’t appreciate a little comfort during what might be his final minutes.

  “That one came too close,” Major Avery said over the radios built into their power suits. The moment he finished talking, something hit their shuttle, causing her nose to wobble in its course, tossing the marines against their restraints.

  “Just a glancing blow.” From the front of the craft, the major offered the marines a reassuring glance through his power suit’s visor.

  But then the shuttle trembled, bucked, and dropped. Wilson tensed. Why does it feel like we’re going down? he thought.

  Apparently, even a glancing blow from one of the Xanthic’s weird surface-to-air projectiles was enough to do the job. He’d watched them coming through exterior sensors for the first few minutes, hissing through the air toward the shuttles, which all had their articulated aerogel wings extended for descent. He’d decided he wasn’t doing himself any favors and closed out the visual. The oncoming projectiles looked like someone had taken a ball of energy and trained it to lengthen out and act like a conventional missile. They seemed more stable than should have been possible.