First Colony: Books 1 - 3

by Ken Lozito

  Connor glanced around at all the CDF crew on the bridge. Most looked pale, as if they were walking over their own graves. “The question of whether a malevolent attack force is coming to New Earth has been answered. Humanity’s enemy is right out there. They’ve traveled across the void to get here, to get to you and your families. This is why we formed the Colonial Defense Force. We don’t cave in to fear. Only the best of us came onto the Ark all those years ago.

  “Now, there are a lot of unanswered questions and we have our work cut out for us getting those answers. Accept that there is nowhere we can run or hide. They wouldn’t have come as they did if they sought an alliance with us. We need to settle down and focus on our jobs. We have a lot of data to go through and we need to keep a sharp eye out because they’re hunting for us. They have the advantage both in numbers and in knowing the capabilities of our ships. What they haven’t counted on is us, people like Major Hayes, who had the insight to configure PRADIS to scan for ship wakes through space. This is where we pull together and face our enemy.”

  Determination burned from the eyes of the bridge crew and they went back to their assigned tasks with renewed vigor. Connor gestured for Reisman and Hayes to come closer so they could speak.

  Reisman gave him a hungry look. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been in the thick of it. What’s our next move?”

  Major Hayes frowned. “I sometimes forget that you two served together before becoming part of the colony.”

  Connor felt the edges of his lips curve just a tad. “You’re doing fine. I want you on damage assessment. You’ve spent more time on this ship than either Wil or me. I need to know what systems were damaged and what we have in terms of weapons capability.”

  “Sir, I have to admit . . . when I heard you order us to make a head-on pass, I froze up,” Major Hayes said.

  “So did I, for a moment,” Connor said. “We do the best we can with the information we have.”

  “You’ll get used to it, Major. I’ve learned to trust the general’s instincts over the years.” Reisman shrugged.

  “We haven’t used the mag-cannons yet. I could have the engineering team check the accelerator rails in each gun and recalibrate the turret actuators to be sure they’re fully operational,” Major Hayes said.

  Connor shared a look with Reisman. “Good thinking. Feel free to share any more gems like that.”

  “I’ll get to it,” Major Hayes said and left the bridge.

  Connor turned toward the main holoscreen. Nothing on the passive scans indicated a change in any of the known enemy contacts.

  “This isn’t going to last long,” Reisman said.

  “I know. We need to come up with a plan now that we have more of an idea of what we’re dealing with,” Connor said and brought up the first visual they had of the enemy ship. The image had been refined and compiled against the closer scans from their engagement.

  “That hull looks like it’s carved out of an asteroid,” Reisman said.

  Connor rubbed his chin and squinted. “There’s something familiar about its shape. Computer, can you put a spectral analysis on the ship’s interior?”

  An error message appeared on the screen, indicating insufficient data.

  “Not like an asteroid,” Reisman said and zoomed in on a smooth section that curved as if it were blanketed over something else. “That kind of shape doesn’t occur naturally.”

  Like lightning, a thought blazed across his mind. “I’ve got it!” Connor said. He opened another window on the main holoscreen and brought up a schematic diagram of a Barracuda-class battleship carrier. “Computer, scale the schematic diagram so it’s of the same dimensions as the enemy vessel.”

  The image resized to the parameters Connor had given. “Overlay schematics on top of the enemy ship. Angle the plane so it matches the approach vector.”

  The two images came together and Connor blew out a breath.

  Reisman’s eyes widened and he stepped closer to the image. “I don’t believe it,” he said.

  “Can’t be a coincidence,” Connor replied. “Computer, run an analysis of the dynamic planes and their alignment relative to the enemy ship.”

  Ninety percent match.

  Connor’s mouth went dry. They’d just traded blows with a ship that out-massed them by more than twenty times their tonnage.

  “What the hell happened to the ship?” Reisman asked.

  “The substructure is that of a Barracuda-class battleship carrier. I have no idea what that hull is made of, but you can be damn sure it’s not an asteroid,” Connor said.

  He glanced at Reisman, who seemed to have had a thought and then shook his head.

  “Spit it out, Wil. I’ll take anything at this point,” Connor said.

  “It’s like someone put an exoskeleton over the existing ship. Like a clam that grows its own shell one layer at a time,” Reisman said.

  Connor pinched his lips together. “In space?”

  Reisman shrugged. “It’s the first thing I thought of. I didn’t say it made any sense.”

  “Let’s see if we have images of the damage we caused. Maybe there’s a clue in there that will indicate what it is,” Connor said.

  “If these are old alliance military ships encased in some kind of living exoskeleton, that could be the reason they’re so hard to detect on PRADIS,” Reisman said.

  Connor sighed. “I hope the mag-cannons are operational.”

  Reisman frowned. “Why is that?”

  “Because proton beams and perhaps even the HADES IVs aren’t going to be enough to penetrate the armored hull, whatever that material is. Maybe a good old-fashioned slug shot can cause more damage and pave the way for a more powerful warhead,” Connor said.

  Reisman grunted.

  “Let’s get this organized. Piecemeal out the analysis,” Connor said.

  “And just hope they don’t detect us before we can detect them,” Reisman replied.

  Connor didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. They were on borrowed time. Hopefully the intelligence they gleaned from their encounter would pay dividends going forward.

  16

  Noah glanced at the time in the upper right corner of his terminal session’s display. It was oh three hundred hours and he’d slept only a handful of hours since the battle group had left to investigate the anomaly that appeared on PRADIS. Since then, Colonel Douglass had set the status for Titan Space Station at Condition Two for the existence of a probable threat that wasn’t present yet. Noah had worked almost around the clock to upgrade the HADES IV missiles. And it wasn’t just him. Colonel Douglass had ordered every able-bodied person to help with that effort, as well as getting additional weapons systems online.

  A message appeared on his holoscreen.

  ::Report to the Command Center a.s.a.p,:: Col. K. Douglass said.

  Noah acknowledged the message and closed down his session. He was alone in the Engineering lab, where he’d been checking the calibrations for the subsystems of the HADES IV-B. If he’d had more time, he might have worked out a way to add some kind of point defense systems to the highly accurate missiles, but he couldn’t make it work and fit them into the launch tubes they had available.

  Noah glanced around at the Engineering lab. He’d hoped to see Kara before he was due to leave but that had been all but impossible with what was happening. She could have been avoiding him, but he wasn’t sure of that. He couldn’t be sure of anything given how tired he was.

  Noah double-timed it to the Command Center and headed right toward the cradle, where he knew Colonel Douglass would be. The heart of the Command Center was fully staffed, with each workstation occupied by CDF personnel.

  Noah glanced at the PRADIS screen that showed the CDF attack group. They were nearing the predetermined range where they’d turn around and head back to the station.

  “Comms, open a link to the Chmiel and find out why Captain Benson is sticking around. He was cleared to disembark hours ago,” Colonel Douglass said
.

  “Sir, you requested to see me,” Noah said and stood at attention just outside the cradle.

  Colonel Douglass glanced at him.

  “Colonel, Captain Benson is requesting to speak to you,” Lieutenant Jason Lew said.

  Colonel Douglass raised his finger for Noah to wait. “Put him through,” Douglass said. “This is Titan actual.”

  “Colonel, I thought I’d stick around in case you needed further assistance,” Captain Benson said.

  “I appreciate the gesture, Captain, but the best thing you can do is disembark and head directly back to New Earth,” Colonel Douglass said.

  “I’d be happy to extend an invitation to any noncombatants you need off the station,” Captain Benson said.

  The cargo ship captain wasn’t part of the Colonial Defense Forces and wasn’t required to stick around to offer assistance.

  “Thank you, Captain. All personnel on Titan Space Station are essential to its operation,” Colonel Douglass replied.

  “Understood, Colonel. The Chmiel will shove off within the hour. Captain Benson out.”

  The cargo ship captain sounded disappointed that he couldn’t help in some way.

  Colonel Douglass turned toward Noah. “Just the engineer I wanted to see.”

  “I’m at your disposal, sir,” Noah replied.

  “We received a partial data burst from the Vigilant and I’d like you to take a look. We’ve tried the known reassembly protocols, but they’re not working, and I know you have extensive experience with this type of work,” Colonel Douglass said.

  Noah had spent years trying to get data from the deep-space buoy network in order to glean more information about what had happened to Earth and why the buoy network was failing. Despite all his efforts, he’d only been able to get precious little information from the colony’s only link to Earth, but he had developed a talent for deciphering partial data dumps.

  “Absolutely, sir,” Noah said.

  “Excellent. Take over the aux work area over there and report to me when you have something,” Colonel Douglass said.

  The aux work area was at the edge of the cradle. Noah went over to it, sat down, opened up a terminal session, and went to work. The signal appeared to be intermittent, as if part of the burst had been cut out at different intervals. Noah quickly coded an algorithm to isolate the data burst into individual chunks that the system could interpret. That should make the comms system cooperate and become useful rather than throwing up errors. Noah then started reviewing the data, and in an instant, his exhaustion evaporated in a rush of adrenaline. He stood up.

  “Multiple PRADIS contacts!” Captain Thorne said.

  Noah glanced up at PRADIS and frowned. The Vigilant disappeared from PRADIS, only to reappear a few moments later. The same went for the Banshee and the Wyatt.

  “Keep tracking,” Colonel Douglass said and glanced over at him. “What have you got?”

  “I broke down the data burst. They modified how PRADIS scans and had it focus on ship wakes through space,” Noah said.

  Colonel Douglass became somber. “Put what you found on the main screen.”

  Noah used his fingers to snatch the image on his terminal, and he flicked it toward the main screen. A PRADIS output showed a massive force that was almost atop the scout force.

  A hush came over the Command Center at the image on display. Noah glanced at Colonel Douglass, who was studying the display intently.

  “Tactical, configure our PRADIS to alternate scanning intervals for active contacts and ship wakes,” Colonel Douglass said.

  “Sir, I’m not sure—” Captain Thorne began.

  “I can help him, sir,” Noah said and darted over to Caleb’s workstation.

  He showed Caleb where the settings were hidden amongst the options.

  “Comms, set Condition One,” Colonel Douglass said.

  Throughout Titan Space Station for the second time in its history, they readied for imminent attack.

  Noah stepped away from Caleb’s workstation once it was clear that it was ready. An updated PRADIS feed showed on the main screen.

  “Multiple warhead detonations detected,” Captain Thorne reported.

  Noah searched through the crowded PRADIS screen. “Where’s the Vigilant?”

  “Connor is likely masking the ship’s presence from the enemy,” Colonel Douglass said.

  Noah’s face twisted into a confused frown, but he remained quiet.

  “Tactical, I want a firing solution on the main attack group,” Colonel Douglass said.

  “Sir, the intermittent returns on PRADIS will make precise targeting a problem,” Captain Thorne replied.

  “Understood. Ready the HADES IV-Bs. I want them in the tubes, ready to go,” Colonel Douglass said.

  Since Noah wasn’t assigned to a particular workstation, he went to the colonel’s side.

  “Sir, if we launch the missiles, isn’t there a chance we’ll hit the CDF scout force?” Noah asked.

  Colonel Douglass regarded Noah for a moment and he had the distinct impression he’d overstepped his bounds.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Noah said quickly.

  “Listen up,” Colonel Douglass bellowed. “There are very few of you who’ve actually fought in a war. This is the day where that all changes. The CDF scout group has engaged the enemy fleets. From here on out, that is how we will refer to them. General Gates is commanding the Vigilant. We’ll work like hell not to hurt one of our own, but it may not be helped. War is messy. Our job is to defend the colony from attack. We suspected that this enemy fleet from whatever damn hell they crawled out of was coming for us. The colony is depending on us to do our jobs, and we will.”

  The CDF soldiers in the Command Center went back to work. Noah looked at Colonel Douglass. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Help me figure out how to stop that fleet. Is there anything else in the data burst?” Colonel Douglass asked.

  “Just the PRADIS configuration update to detect ship wakes and that they were engaging the enemy. The rest doesn’t make much sense. If we get more information, I can try and parse it into what we already have,” Noah replied.

  “Understood. I want you to stick around. Sit with Captain Thorne at the Tactical work area and lend assistance as needed,” Colonel Douglass said.

  “Yes, sir,” Noah replied.

  Noah walked over and sat down in the seat next to Caleb. “The colonel wants me to give you a hand,” Noah said.

  “Thanks for the assist earlier. I didn’t know PRADIS could be configured to scan like that,” Caleb replied.

  “How do you decide what to target?” Noah asked.

  Caleb pinched his lips together. “It’s all about establishing priority targets. We have some time because they’re still pretty far out.”

  “How much time do we really have? Couldn’t they have already fired their weapons . . . you know, missiles of their own?” Noah asked.

  “They could, but we would have detected them,” Caleb said.

  Noah frowned at the tactical display. “Why haven’t they fired on us yet?”

  “I have no idea. What I have here is a long-range firing solution. It’s pretty run of the mill, designed to strike at the heart of this main attack force. Since we’re targeting ship wakes, we have to guess where the ships actually are,” Caleb replied.

  “If you launched the missiles in groups, wouldn’t the targeting systems update?” Noah asked.

  “Yes, but that’s assuming a strong PRADIS contact. What we have is essentially a passive scan,” Caleb said.

  “Tactical, still waiting on that firing solution,” Colonel Douglass said.

  “Alpha, bravo, and charlie packages uploaded and awaiting your approval, sir,” Caleb said.

  Noah glanced over at Colonel Douglass, wondering what the man was thinking. Noah didn’t know what he would do if he were in the colonel’s shoes. At this range, even if they launched their missiles, it would still be hours before they reached their tar
gets.

  “Approved. Launch the first salvo now,” Colonel Douglass said.

  Noah watched as Caleb authorized the launch. Armored hatches opened as the HADES IV-B missiles launched from their tubes. The automated loaders were already loading more missiles.

  “This is the first of many salvos,” Caleb said.

  Noah nodded. What would they do after all their birds were in the air? Noah wondered if he should say a prayer. He wanted to know why the enemy fleet hadn’t attacked them yet. He looked at the PRADIS screen and hoped his friends serving aboard the Vigilant were okay.

  17

  Connor sat in the command chair on the Vigilant’s bridge. Several hours had passed since their initial encounter with the enemy fleet. Major Hayes had just reported in.

  “That’s four of the main projectors that are simply gone,” Reisman said.

  “Could have been a lot worse. A few degrees lower and the entire bulkhead for that section might have been gone,” Connor replied.

  Reisman’s brow furrowed as he read through the damage report.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Sergeant Boers said, standing at attention outside the command area.

  Connor waved her over. “Yes, what is it, Sergeant?”

  “I’ve been going back through the recorded signals during the encounter and I was able to make something out. I’ve isolated some transmissions from the Wyatt and I thought you’d like to hear it,” Sergeant Boers said.

  “Sure thing. Anything we can learn about them will help,” Connor said.

  Sergeant Boers held up her tablet computer and replayed the signal she’d recorded.

  The sounds stemmed from a partial transmission from the Wyatt.

  “. . . They’re right on top of us. . . prepare to repel boarders. They’re coming through the hangar bay . . .” The person speaking faded away to static. Then another voice spoke in a deep rasp. “Vemus . . .”

  The recorded signal finished and Sergeant Boers closed the tablet interface.

  “Vemus? Is that all there is?” Connor asked.

  “I’ve heard that word spoken a few other times, but it always sounds the same. Shortly after this recording was when the Wyatt went offline. I cross-referenced it in our systems and came up empty,” Sergeant Boers said.