New Frontiers- The Complete Series

by Jasper T. Scott

  “Where’s the rest of your crew?” Alexander asked.

  “In their G-tanks. I thought it best for them to remain there in order to minimize further casualties as you trigger-happy terrans go prancing through my ship.”

  Alexander turned to Ram. “Sergeant, get squads down to those levels and lock them in. We lost our brig in the fighting, so there’s no where else for us to put them. While you’re at it, check the ship’s roster and get me a head-count to compare. We don’t want to miss anyone.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ram replied.

  “The head count won’t match the roster,” Captain Vrokovich said as Shadow squad began cuffing his officers’ hands behind their backs. “We lost at least fifty crewmates when you attacked us. The people you’re looking for are all floating out in space.” Vrokovich’s upper lip twisted with contempt. “The Alliance will pay for what they’ve done today.”

  Alexander opened his palms and mimicked the see-saw motion of a balance scale. “Five million dead on Earth and two million dead on the Moon versus fifty dead on your ship. I wonder which side has more blood on it?”

  “Go get your proof then,” Vrokovich said, jerking his chin toward the empty bridge control stations climbing the far wall of the bridge behind him. “That’s what you came for, isn’t it?”

  Alexander gave the other man a narrow-eyed look that would have had a greater effect if his VSM were capable of facial expressions. Instead he leveled an index finger at his chest. “Altering ship’s logs leaves a data trail. If you touched them, you’ll have given me all the proof I need.”

  “We didn’t alter anything. We didn’t need to,” Vrokovich replied, shrugging as Mouth cuffed his wrists behind his back.

  Rather than waste more time bantering, Alexander stalked past the enemy captain, straight up to the lower pair of control stations—the captain’s and XO’s stations. He climbed into the captain’s station and waved it to life. A holographic display appeared, and Alexander summoned the ship’s logs with a combination of gestures and voice commands.

  Navigation logs showed that the Crimson Warrior left Mars two months ago. They flew straight to Saturn and on to the moon of Tethys, where they remained for about a week. They were on a circuitous route home when the Adamantine hailed them. At no point in their trip were they moving fast enough to have launched the missiles that hit the Moon or Earth.

  It was a plausible flight plan, and the fact that they’d gone to Tethys suggested some sort of crazy Martian terraforming agenda since that moon was practically solid ice.

  Alexander didn’t trust the data, but he couldn’t find anything to suggest the logs had been altered. Making matters worse, there was a record of a rendezvous with an Alliance civilian supply ship, the Wayfinder, not long before the Moon attack. That would be easy to verify, and if true, it gave the Crimson Warrior a strong alibi.

  Alexander felt abruptly sick. What if Captain Vroko was telling the truth? He poked around for a while longer, submitting the enemy ship’s computer core to a data probe to check for signs of log alterations. The probe came back negative. Things weren’t looking good for the Alliance. Alexander checked to see if the sealed sections of the ship were all actually exposed to space as Captain Vroko had said…

  And that checked out, too.

  They couldn’t afford to leave those areas un-explored, but it did make Alexander feel better about the set path they’d been forced to take through the Crimson Warrior.

  Finally, he checked the number of active and inactive G-tanks and compared that to the ship’s roster. One hundred and three active tanks, fifty-seven inactive—not counting the brig—and the ship’s roster had exactly 160 crew, meaning there were fifty-seven dead.

  Feeling suddenly weary, Alexander eased out of the control station and walked back to the entrance of the bridge.

  “Find what you were looking for?” Captain Vrokovich asked, sounding smug.

  Alexander ignored him and walked up to Sergeant Ram. “Get these prisoners down to the G-tanks and lock them in with the rest.”

  “Oorah,” Ram replied.

  Alexander watched as Shadow Squad and Goblin Squad left the bridge with their prisoners in tow. A few tech specialists stayed behind to slave the Crimson Warrior’s systems to the Adamantine’s controls. Sergeant Ram remained behind as well.

  “Did you find anything?” he asked.

  Alexander waited for the prisoners to pass out of earshot, but then he remembered that they didn’t need to speak audibly to each other and opted for private comms. “I think they might have been telling the truth. Their flight plan is reasonable, the logs don’t look altered, and they have an alibi—an Alliance civilian transport.”

  “Shit. If they’re so innocent, then why the hell didn’t they give us what we asked for?”

  “You mean why didn’t they bend over when we asked them to?”

  “That’s not…” Ram trailed off.

  “It’s exactly what we asked them to do. The Solarian Republic and the Alliance are not allies. We’re not even very friendly after they declared their independence thirty years ago. Giving us access to their flight plan and mission data would set a bad political precedent and pave the way for future insults to their sovereignty.”

  “So you’re telling me we just started an interplanetary war because the Solarians were too damn proud to prove their innocence?”

  “We need more time to look through their data before we can be sure,” Alexander replied.

  Another voice interrupted them. “Admiral, we have a problem.” It was McAdams.

  “What’s wrong, Commander?”

  “Enemy ships incoming, seven of them, all destroyer-class.”

  “Range?”

  “They’re just leaving Martian orbit, so they’ve got a good half a billion klicks to cover, but we have to cover double that to reach Earth, and they have a much higher top speed than we do—especially considering we’ll be towing a derelict dreadnought.”

  “How long do we have before they reach us?”

  “Depends what kind of Gs they pull… at theoretical maximums, about a day.”

  “Contact Fleet Command, explain the situation, and ask for an escort to meet us halfway. Make sure they know we’re already limping thanks to our engagement with the Crimson Warrior, otherwise they might order us into another ridiculous fight. Hopefully they can make it to us before those destroyers do.”

  “Aye, sir. Did you find any evidence linking the Crimson Warrior to the attacks? If you did, we might be able to use that to get some political muscle on our side—expose the Solarians and threaten them with a full-scale war. That should turn those destroyers back.”

  Alexander grimaced. “Actually, I found evidence that they weren’t the ones who attacked us. I’ll get the details for you so you can transmit them back to Earth. The Alliance might have more luck turning those destroyers back with a formal apology and a promise of restitution than they will with more threats.”

  “Aye, sir… and if the Alliance isn’t willing to give up their witch hunt yet?”

  “Then we hope we’re not the ones who get burned. Get on the comms, Commander, and bring the Adamantine alongside. It’s time to dock and run. De Leon out.”

  * * *

  Alexander waited until the enemy crew was safely locked inside their G-tanks, and then he used the captain’s control station to override the Crimson Warrior’s bulkhead doors and vent their atmosphere into space so they could finish securing the ship. That done, he walked back through the ship, securing sections with Ram, Mouth, and Chesty. It was tedious work scanning and checking every room, corridor, alcove, and maintenance access for booby traps or hidden enemy drones and crew.

  After more than two hours of searching, they didn’t find anything, and all of the Crimson Warrior’s sections had been secured, so Alexander ordered the Adamantine to dock with the dreadnought and tow it back to Earth. He was surprised the search had come up empty. Captain Vrokovich’s demeanor had screamed de
fiance, yet he’d made no significant effort to defy the Alliance.

  Doubt niggled Alexander’s brain. All the ship’s sections were secured, the enemy crew was all accounted for except for the dead ones.

  “We’re all done here, Admiral,” Ram said, turning to him.

  Alexander nodded absently. Fifty-seven of the enemy crew dead. Why so many? he wondered. They’d poked plenty of holes in the Crimson Warrior’s hull, but ship-building 101 was to put crew control stations closer to a ship’s core to shield them as much as possible. So what were those people doing walking the outer corridors?

  A sudden suspicion formed in Alexander’s gut. He keyed his comms. “McAdams, have we docked yet?”

  “Almost, sir.”

  “Abort, now.”

  “What? What’s wrong? I thought you secured the ship.”

  “We did. Inside. Get me eyes on their outer hull. Scan every inch of it.”

  “Aye, sir… I’ll get Stone to check her over with our drones.”

  Alexander nodded. “Keep me posted. De Leon out.”

  “Is there anything else you need us to do, sir?” Sergeant Ram prompted. He hadn’t been privy to the conversation with McAdams, but he must have seen that Alexander was busy on the comms.

  “We haven’t finished securing the ship yet,” Alexander explained.

  “We haven’t?”

  “We secured the inside, but we forgot to check the outer hull. Get someone to go fetch the captain for me, but make sure he stays sedated; then get someone else to extract the ship’s data core for transfer to the Adamantine.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ram replied and got on the comms. When he was done, he asked, “You really think they’re planning to scuttle the ship?”

  Alexander shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “So why not pull the trigger already?” Mouth added. “Boom goes the weasel, and the Adamantine with it. We’re still close enough for the shrapnel to take us out.”

  “The Adamantine might not be their target,” Alexander replied. “They could do maximum damage by waiting for us to pull into one of Earth’s shipyards for repairs.”

  “Hell of a long time to wait while you’re freezing your ‘nads off in space,” Chesty commented.

  Alexander’s comm crackled. “Admiral, we’ve found multiple enemy contacts clinging to the hull.”

  “Where?”

  “Amidships.”

  “Did they spot us?”

  “With the naked eye? Not likely, sir. You want our pilots to scrape them off?”

  Alexander’s mind raced through options. “No, too risky. We’re sure to miss a few like that, and it just takes one to trigger a bomb. Send me their location. We’ll take care of it.”

  “Aye, sir. Transmitting now.”

  Alexander summoned a hologram of the enemy position so Ram and the others could see. He checked for nearby airlocks and highlighted four, one on each side of the enemy forces.

  “They are sneaky bastards,” Mouth said. “There’s at least fifty of them crawling out there!”

  “Fifty-seven,” Alexander corrected.

  “I guess Captain Vrokovich was telling the truth. His missing men are all floating out in space,” Sergeant Ram said.

  “It’s going to be hard to take out that many people without them triggering whatever bomb they’ve rigged up out there,” Ram said.

  Alexander nodded. “I agree. We need to wait until Captain Vrokovich and the dreadnought’s data core are safely away before we risk an attack. How’s that coming along, Sergeant?”

  “The Martian is suited up and on his way,” Ram said. “We’ll have to send a shuttle for him, though.”

  Alexander mentally grimaced. They’d sent back the shuttles that had carried the marines to the Crimson Warrior to prevent the Adamantine from crushing them when it docked. “No time. Load him into an escape pod with the ship’s data core and a few marines to keep him out of trouble. We’ll launch them into space and pick them up later.”

  Ram nodded.

  “Meanwhile, get our squads into position at those four airlocks.” Alexander pointed to the highlighted areas of the hologram.

  Ram nodded. “Let’s go, Shadows!”

  “Oorah!”

  They set off at a run once more, heading for the nearest of the four airlocks Alexander had selected. As they ran, Alexander’s mind turned to the approaching Solarian destroyers. They were losing valuable time keeping pace with a derelict ship when they should have been burning back to Earth at top speed. He hoped for all of their sakes that the engagement didn’t last long.

  Chapter 16

  Alexander looked up. Countless stars floated in an endless black sea. The Crimson Warrior’s hull stretched out a full kilometer to the horizon, shining a dull gray in the distant light of the sun. Invisible shapes crouched low against the hull, their silhouettes highlighted green by sensors. Their holographic cloaks were engaged, bending light around their VSM drones until only a ghostly shadow remained.

  “The rabbit is in the hole,” Sergeant Ram reported. Captain Vrokovich and the data core were safely away. “All teams move out, and watch your fire around those warheads.”

  The latest drone recon from the Adamantine showed what looked like several nuclear warheads clamped to the dreadnought’s hull. Alexander knew that shooting an enemy warhead wasn’t a good way to trigger it without the accompanying rocket fuel to ignite an explosion, but better safe than sorry.

  The squads crept along the hull, moving up behind cover to keep the enemy from spotting them with whatever limited sensors they had at their disposal. Alexander’s own sensors showed fifty-seven red enemy blips dead ahead, spread out all over a large section of the hull. Around them was a circle of green blips, gradually tightening like a noose—six squads of twelve marines moving in on the enemy from all sides. They each had exactly one target, with some of them sharing the harder-to-reach targets. One well-aimed bullet from each of the marines and the threat would be over.

  “Halt,” Ram called out.

  The noose stopped tightening.

  “Shadow Twelve, get us a visual.”

  Alexander watched as a green silhouette crept up and poked his head around the molten remains of an enemy laser cannon. A holofeed appeared on Alexander’s HUD, showing what Shadow Twelve saw.

  Dozens of Solarians lay prone on the hull, hugging the ship with magnetic clamps. Most of them were lying under some type of cover and shooting them all simultaneously before anyone could trigger a bomb was going to be impossible.

  “It’s not pretty, Sarge,” Shadow Twelve said.

  “Assholes rarely are,” Mouth added.

  “All units, line up your targets and fire on my command,” Ram replied.

  Shadow Squad moved up and poked their weapon barrels out around the ruined weapon emplacement. Alexander went down on one knee for added stability and aimed both his .50 caliber cannons at his target.

  “Ready… and—what the hell?” Ram roared.

  Before he could say ‘fire!’ a flash of bright yellow light illuminated their location. The sergeant’s holographic cloak flickered and failed, revealing his drone—headless, its neck glowing molten orange.

  “It’s a trap!” Ram said.

  Alexander ducked and rolled away just as another flash of dazzling yellow light hit the hull where he’d been standing a split second ago.

  The marines returned fire with the simulated thunder of .50 caliber cannons. Enemy crew in maroon combat suits burst up from their prone positions and ran for better cover. Some of them turned, firing backward with their sidearms as they went, only to explode in bloody clouds of explosive decompression as .50 caliber rounds ripped them open and exposed their guts to space.

  Alexander crouched down between a comm dish and a ridge of heat vents and used his HUD to skip between visual replays from different angles to watch as marines were cut down in dazzling flashes of light. Those lasers were lethal. They’d already lost almost twenty drones, but the
enemy crew wasn’t carrying anything bigger than a pistol, and laser pistols were far too small to take out a VSM with one shot. Alexander slowed a few of the replays down until he could judge the angles of incidence and reflection of enemy laser fire. The angles were too steep.

  “Shit,” Alexander muttered, realization dawning.

  “Heads up! They’ve got drones firing on us from space!” someone announced, figuring it out, too.

  Alexander activated his comms and contacted Lieutenant Stone.

  “We need air support!” Alexander said, absently noting the irony of asking for air support in space.

  “I see it,” Stone said.

  Red lasers joined the yellow ones flashing through space, and fiery explosions bloomed close overhead. Shrapnel rained down, plinking off the hull with simulated noise. Alexander caught a flash of maroon-colored fabric in his peripheral vision and turned to see an enemy officer come sliding into cover beside him.

  A shiny black faceplate turned his way, and the man’s pistol swung into line. Thunk. Alexander felt a quasi-painful jolt as the bullet hit his armor. Then he fired back. His target exploded and blood sprayed everything in sight with a wet splattering sound. He looked away in disgust. Now he remembered why he hadn’t joined the marines.

  “Drones neutralized,” Stone reported.

  Alexander rolled out of cover, tracking his next target. The next nearest enemy officer had his hands raised, and he was waving for attention.

  “Hold fire!” someone ordered. The accompanying text identified him as Goblin One. “Incoming enemy comms.”

  Alexander heard a female voice with a distinct Martian accent crackle in his ears. “If you fire one more shot, I will destroy this ship and all of your expensive little tin soldiers with it!”

  Alexander took another step toward her. “Admiral de Leon here,” he replied.

  The woman turned to him, her expression impossible to read through her shiny black faceplate. “The Lion of Liberty. When they gave you that nickname, they clearly forgot what lions are. They’re blood-thirsty predators. Just like you.” She spread her hands to indicate her dead crewmates, their feet still pinned to the hull with magnetic boots, their bodies motionless, frozen with their guts hanging out like gory mannequins in a house of horrors. “If you had any honor at all, you’d give your Peace Prize back after today.”