Frontier's Reach: A Space Opera Adventure (Frontiers Book 1)

by Robert C. James

  His head spun furiously from the alcohol and throbbed incessantly from the punch. Falling to the floor in his bathroom, he wrapped his hands around the toilet and deposited most of what he’d drunk at The Bended Elbow. Plus some of what he assumed was his dinner or lunch. He couldn’t quite remember.

  Why the hell do I do this to myself?

  Jason gently heaved himself up with the towel rail and stumbled over to the washbasin. He flicked the light on the lowest setting and looked into the mirror. His bearded and very bruised face stared back at him.

  With a push of the mirror, he opened the medicine cabinet and pried out two aspirins from the near-empty container. He swallowed them and washed them down with a glass of water. He closed the medicine cabinet, and spotted a red flashing light in the reflection of the mirror. A message? For me?

  He made his way into the living area, almost tripping over… something. “Open message,” he instructed his computer, taking a seat on the sofa. The display activated, washing the living area in color.

  “Ortega?” he muttered in shock.

  Sure enough, there in an office somewhere, sat his old colleague from the UECS Raptor, David Ortega. “Hello, Jason. It’s been some time. I hope this message finds you well.”

  Jason chuckled. Yep, life’s great.

  “I have information that will interest you. I’m stationed at Outpost Watchtower. It’s a facility based in the Delta-Hera System, near Frontier’s Reach.”

  Jason knew of it but had never visited. Not that he’d wanted to. It was nothing but a star system of lifeless rocks on the edge of nowhere.

  “As well as being a port for ships out here in deep space, one of our missions is to send out probes into the Reach and perform general scans,” Ortega told him. “A few days ago one of those probes found something. Particles.” He paused before continuing. “Iota particles.”

  Jason let the words sink in. It took him back to his final days aboard the Raptor and that fateful moment when he’d lost his best friend.

  “The readings were identical to the ones we found in Nebula TPA-338 after the destruction of Nash’s pod.”

  Jason wanted to vomit again remembering the vivid memory.

  “We’ve sent this information to HQ. We asked if they would spare a ship to investigate, but they’ve decided it wasn’t worth the equipment or manpower. Same old story. We’re still feeling the brunt of rebuilding the fleet since the war. Or so the excuse goes.” Ortega leaned forward in his seat. “I’m sending you the coordinates where the Iota particles were found and all other pertinent information I can give you. Do with it as you wish.”

  A little notification in the corner of the monitor advised Jason that a data packet had downloaded into his computer.

  “I know this will be like opening an old wound, but maybe there’s closure to be had. For you. For all of us.” He gave Jason a casual salute. “Good luck.”

  Ortega’s face disappeared from the monitor and Jason opened the data packet to study the information. As Ortega had said, the coordinates were inside Frontier’s Reach, a long way from Vesta III. It’d be costly to pay for transport, let alone finding anyone willing to take him.

  “Bring up my bank balance,” he instructed the computer.

  On the display, his balance appeared. He was in the black by five thousand credits. Jason was surprised he had that much, but it was nowhere near what he needed. His mind wandered to all his possessions. The bond on his apartment. Some stuff he could pawn. And that was after paying Vic’s tab. He would never find the money to get out to the Reach.

  He dropped his head and pondered. A thought popped into his mind, though it wasn’t a pleasant one.

  Am I that desperate?

  “Log me on to the Commonwealth Shipping Network.”

  The monitor displayed an access screen, and it activated with vocal recognition. Wow, it still works after all these years. He stared at the monitor, considering long and hard whether he was prepared to go the tritonium option. He sighed. “Locate Cargo Ship Argo.”

  An astronomical map of the region appeared and a blip materialized in the top left-hand corner. It was the Argo, and it wasn’t too far away from the Vesta System. His memories of the Argo flashed before his eyes. He remembered the day he’d left along with all the arguments.

  Jason reached down into the side of the sofa and found a small flask. He shook it. There was something inside. He pulled the cap and took a long swig. Whatever was in it, burned all the way down.

  “Open a commlink to the Argo.”

  God help me.

  Four

  Herald Clinic - Massachusetts, Earth

  “What took you so long?”

  The hollow eyes of Lewis Keene gazed up at Captain Nicolas Marquez as he entered his room. Putting on a brave face, Nicolas did his best not to stare at the thinned, gaunt body of his friend.

  “Well, I took a while to find your brew.” Nicolas pulled a bottle of McKinley Oak scotch from behind his back and handed it to Keene.

  He nearly jumped from his bed when he saw the bottle. “Put that away. If my wife or any of the docs see that I’ll be in serious trouble.”

  Nicolas took the bottle and hid it behind the plethora of flowers and get-well-soon cards on the windowsill. He turned and took a seat at Keene’s bedside. It’d been the fifth time he’d visited his former Chief-of-the-Boat since the Vanguard came into port. Every time he felt like another part of the chief had slipped away.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “How do I look?” Keene questioned back.

  “Well, you, uh—”

  “I look like hell, don’t I?”

  While his deteriorating physical condition was obvious, Nicolas couldn’t fault the chief’s mind. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

  “Would you believe I feel about ten times worse?”

  Three months earlier, Chief Keene had been diagnosed with the dreaded Jung’s Disease, a horrific condition that eats away at every living part of the body from the DNA upwards. There was still no cure for it. Just therapy to stave it off. Some people could beat it for a few years. Most didn’t.

  When the Vanguard reached port two months earlier for its refit, Keene began his treatment. Though Nicolas didn’t want to admit it to himself, he didn’t think his friend would break any records. “Well, I hope you’re being nice to the doctors.”

  “Kids, the lot of them.” Keene snorted. “It feels like a kindergarten around here.”

  “I’m sure they’re having a ball caring for a crotchety old bastard like yourself.”

  “Just trying to keep them on their toes.” Keene chuckled. “How much longer am I going to have you visiting me anyway? Surely the Vanguard’s due to depart soon.”

  “The refit’s on schedule. It won’t be too much longer.”

  “Good, you’re making the place look untidy.” Keene fluffed his pillow. “And what of my replacement?”

  Nicolas straightened his back at the question. “I—”

  “You haven’t evaluated any of the candidates yet, have you?”

  “I haven’t had the time,” Nicolas lied.

  “You know I’m not coming back. At some point you’ll need to decide who’s taking my place.”

  Nicolas had served with Keene a long time. Replacing him was not something he wanted to think about, especially with his friend on his deathbed.

  “Commander Perera to Captain Marquez.”

  Nicolas activated his commband with a press of the device on his wrist. “Go ahead, Commander.”

  “Sir, a message from HQ. You’re to report to Admiral Mueller immediately.”

  Nicolas dropped his head. “Very well. Inform HQ I’m on my way.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Keene whistled. “It’s not every day you get called to the principal’s office.”

  “I’ll be sure to send her your love.” Nicolas stood from his chair and rolled his eyes. “Don’t drink all that scotch on your own.”

  ”I
’ll save you a glass.”

  CDF Headquarters - Miami, Earth

  Nicolas’s transport pod swept low over the city of Miami giving him the opportunity to take in all the colorful views of the art-deco buildings that continued to stand the test of time. He’d always found it amusing that the Commonwealth Defense Force based their headquarters in the warm climate of Florida. Officially it was due to the historical significance regarding the early space programs. But Nicolas knew better.

  The sun was out, the sky was blue, and the beaches were full of people taking a dip in the clear waters off the coast. He was envious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone for a swim.

  The pilot of the pod flew over the water and toward Key Biscayne, the home of the CDF Headquarters. The vast complex appeared to rise out of the ocean, like something from an old Jules Verne tale. The pod closed and gently descended, touching down on its extended struts.

  “Thank you, Ensign.” Nicolas unbuckled himself from his seat and gave a nod of appreciation to the pilot. The rear airlock opened and he stepped onto the landing pad. Waiting for him stood a man in a navy-blue admiral’s uniform with a dour expression. His eyes examined Nicolas as if he were a first-year cadet.

  Nicolas straightened his back and saluted. “Captain Nicolas Marquez, reporting as ordered.”

  A grin curled on the side of the admiral’s mouth, until it became a full-blown smile. “It’s good to see you, Nicolas.” They shook hands. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long, sir.” Nicolas had the honor of Admiral Gerald Foster being one of his instructors at the academy. He’d been the mentor to thousands who had gone through the system over the years.

  “So, working in the Fleet Operations office?” Nicolas followed the admiral toward the door. “Get sick of the academy, did we?”

  “Hardly.” They walked through the entrance of the building and strolled down the elaborate corridors of HQ. “I just wanted to be promoted to admiral before you. I couldn’t let you beat me to the top.”

  “Still time yet.”

  “I’ll make sure to keep an eye on my back.” Foster led him around a corner and entered the command wing of the building. “How’s the Vanguard’s refit proceeding?”

  It’d been a whirlwind couple of months back on Earth. While the bulk of Nicolas’s ship’s refit had been concentrated on the new Mark V FTL engine that could propel vessels at forty times the speed of light, there was still the upgrade of ancillary systems to deal with. “They installed the new computer network this morning. Everything’s proceeding as scheduled.”

  “I read your FTL trials went off without a hitch.”

  “There was the odd kink to iron out, but for the most part was a smooth transition from the old Mark IV.”

  “Good. The admiral will be pleased to hear that.”

  Nicolas stared at his old teacher with concern, remembering the different tones of his voice. “Anything I should know before going in there?”

  Foster squirmed at the question, but he kept a straight face. “You’ll be informed once we’re inside.”

  Nicolas eyed him suspiciously all the way to Admiral Mueller’s office. Foster opened the door, and they both walked in. At the end of the room was a large granite desk in front of an oversized window that overlooked the grounds of HQ. On the left was a sitting area with a pair of sofas in front of a small library of old leather-bound books. And on the right, a bank of several monitors with fleet readiness information scrolling down them.

  From a side entrance, Admiral Janice Mueller entered. Nicolas stood at attention as she passed, sipping away at her mug of coffee. Taking little notice of him, she sat in the chair behind her desk. Nicolas had only met the admiral on a few occasions. He found her blunt. Cold. Not much of a conversationalist. And not exactly laissez-faire.

  Mueller put her mug on the table, and Nicolas saluted. “Captain Marquez, commanding officer of the Vanguard, reporting as ordered, Admiral.”

  She eyed him much like Foster had on the landing pad, yet this wasn’t a friendly ribbing by a mentor. He felt like he was being interrogated. Nicolas was never one to be intimidated, but Mueller had an aura about her that made him feel more than a little uncomfortable.

  She pointed at the chairs in front of her desk. “Take a seat.”

  Both Nicolas and Foster did so.

  Mueller put her hands together and rested them on the desk. “No doubt you’re wondering why you’ve been summoned here today?”

  It was atypical to be called to the top office unless it was important. And as far as Nicolas knew, the Vanguard’s next mission had already been locked in. “You could say that, Admiral.”

  “You have new orders.” Mueller pressed a button on the panel in front of her. The windows behind her tinted to black, and a holographic image of a planet materialized above the trio. “What do you know about Orion V, Captain?”

  Nicolas looked up at the holographic representation of the dead ball of rock. “Home to a decium ore mining operation, and near Frontier’s Reach, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Indeed.” The hologram zoomed out to show a topographical representation of the United Earth Commonwealth, with Orion V near the very edge and Frontier’s Reach beyond.

  Mueller deactivated the hologram, and the windows returned to their normal shade. The light of the sun once again soaked the office in a beautiful warmth. She took a data tablet from her desk drawer. “The Vanguard will be taking a little trip.”

  Hardly a little trip.

  Even with their new engine it would take six months there and six months back. “What’s our assignment?” he asked.

  Mueller slid the data tablet across to him. “You’re to deliver a package to Orion V.”

  “What are the contents of this package?”

  Mueller glared at Foster, then returned her gaze to Nicolas. “The contents are classified.”

  Nicolas waited for her to elaborate, but she wasn’t forthcoming. “Surely as commanding officer of the Vanguard, I have clearance.”

  Her brows furrowed so much they almost knitted together. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

  He tried to put together his words as diplomatically as possible. “You want me as the captain of my ship to deliver… something having no knowledge what it is?” He turned to Foster whose eyes told him to tread carefully. “It’s highly irregular, Admiral.”

  “Perhaps so, but there are allowances for it in the regulations. And under the delicate circumstances, it is necessary.”

  Nicolas opened his mouth to say something else, but Mueller cut him off. “You’ll also have a team of Marines accompanying you to ensure the security of the package.”

  Stompers. Great…

  “From what I’ve read of your reports, the Vanguard will be operational in seventy-two hours.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “You will depart in forty-eight hours. Is that attainable?”

  Nicolas knew it wasn’t a question. He nodded to the affirmative.

  “Oh, and one more thing.” Mueller fired another data tablet over to him—a personnel file. “Doctor Susan Tai of the Tokyo Institute of Advanced Sciences will join you on your voyage.”

  Nicolas froze. The eyes of the woman in the file photo on the tablet stared up at him as if they were probing deep into his soul.

  “Admiral Foster will brief you on all the other relevant matters pertaining to the mission,” Mueller said finally.

  “Aye, Admiral,” Nicolas uttered, still unable to look away from the tablet.

  Foster stood and led Nicolas out of the office. “It was touch and go for a while, but for the most part you did pretty well in there,” his mentor said with a cheeky grin.

  “I know you couldn’t tell me any of the mission parameters before going in there. But to not tell me I’d have to take my ex-wife along to Orion V. That was low.”

  Nicolas glowered at Susan’s face on the tablet. And I thought the war was hard…

  Five

&
nbsp; Odyssey Station

  As Jason moved among the hundreds of vessels on the station’s expansive hangar deck, it was then that it hit home what he was doing.

  What am I going to say? Maybe I can turn back.

  He took in some deep breaths.

  No.

  He knew it was the only way he’d get to Frontier’s Reach.

  He walked toward one of the many computer terminals and was nearly bowled over by a hover lifter operator, who thought he was some sort of pod racing champion.

  “Hey! Watch it!” Jason flipped him the bird and shook his head.

  “What can I do for you today, Jason Cassidy?” the polite voice of the computer said to him as he placed his hand on the console.

  “Where can I find the Cargo Ship Argo?”

  The terminal processed his request. “The Cargo Ship Argo is in Bay Seventeen. Section D.” A graphic map appeared on the display.

  “Thank you.” Jason put it to memory and set off.

  After what felt like an eternity, he reached Bay Seventeen and approached a pair of new L-Class Cargo Ships—the most modern and technologically advanced civilian cargo haulers money could buy. Then that’s when he saw her. A thorn between a pair of roses—the E-Class Cargo Ship Argo. Next to the more modern vessels, the sixty-year-old ship looked little more than a garbage scow. Its hull was like a patchwork quilt with repaired plating as far as the eye could see. Time had done it little favors.

  There were random scorch marks, scratched hull plating, and some sections that had no paint on them whatsoever. He walked toward the stern where the rear access ramp was down. At least thirty large cylindrical containers were at the foot of the ramp, amongst several dozen smaller crates.

  In front of the cargo, a pair of men stood talking with data tablets in their hands. Jason had to do a double take. One he recognized. Conrad Althaus. His uncle. Half uncle, really. Not that he ever called him by the title. He’d never respected the man enough, even when he was a child.

  Althaus hadn’t aged well. His hair had all but disappeared. What was left was grayer than gray. His face had become wrinkled, and he had a hunch in his back that Jason never remembered him having. But he was still built like a war crusher and had a deep furrow in his brow that always made him appear angry.