Shadow Space Chronicles 1: The Fallen Race Read online

  His experience at the Nova Roma Military Academy had proven an excellent resource to draw on. Lucius had discovered that some part of him actually liked teaching, especially to enthusiastic students. He had a training exercise to attend later in the day and Lucius actually looked forward to it... and to the nasty surprises he and Anthony Doko had worked up.

  Even so, between the training and the continued repairs aboard the War Shrike, he hadn't had time to follow up with Nogita. One thing he had come to value about the man, once he got a tune for Lucius's hands-off approach, he simply got to work. Lucius had felt certain the other man would warn him if anything serious needed his attention. For now, it appeared that he'd been correct.

  “Well, boss, we got it all done,” Nogita shrugged, “It's been a month that if I ever repeated, my wife would kill me.” The engineer settled slowly onto the edge of his desk. “As soon as it became clear that we found a source of palladium and that we'd be producing the ships not only on time, but early, Schultz Enterprises flooded the market with palladium.”

  Lucius gave a snort, “I hope that didn't help them.”

  “It didn't,” Matthew Nogita smiled. “As a matter of fact, between the loss they took between the buy price they paid and the sell price we got, they lost somewhere upwards of a hundred million. Combined with the twenty million dollar bonus for early completion, and the hundred million dollar price tag, I think they're having a bad year.”

  Lucius smiled in return, “Good. Very good. I suppose it would be too much to hope it ruined them?”

  Nogita shook his head, “No, Baron, unfortunately not. They're one of Faraday's largest corporations. That chickenshit Schultz owns controlling interests on half the space industry. It hurt him, it might make it so he can't do anything to us any time soon, but he'll recover.”

  Lucius shrugged, “Then we keep an eye out for him. I think the loyalty base we've developed with the factory workers will work in our favor in that regard.” He nodded out at the busy factory floor.

  Matthew nodded, “Agreed. I never held with the standard practices around here. But I've never seen these people so motivated. I wouldn't have bet even money that we could finish those ships, but when you let on how much it would hurt bastards like Schultz...”

  Lucius nodded. “They've suffered through a lot, Matthew.” After his talk with the ship's captains, he found more than enough recruits and the factory floor had flooded with workers. He didn't fool himself to think their hard work came from anything besides a hatred for the rich who'd mortgaged them to wage-slave status, but he hoped they had at least gained a working relationship now.

  “Good job, Matt, and be sure we give those people out there a decent bonus, I can't think of a better use for the profit we've made on Schultz's behalf.”

  ***

  “Captain, the first shipment of fighters is here.” Chief Petty Officer Winslow reported.

  Lucius nodded, “Excellent! Alice send someone forward to open the hatch and tow them in.”

  It was with no little awe that he watched his new fighter squadron XO go into motion. Just two weeks ago she, and half her squadron had been the female racing gang known as the Raging Lionesses. They had signed up, in masse, after the first day of his advertisements. Their presence was at once both startling, amusing, and, to some of his crew, contemptible.

  Faraday considered itself an enlightened culture, above such things as gender or racial discrimination. This of course, flew in the face of their xenophobia of those born off world.

  The culture of the Nova Roma sector, on the other hand was fairly primitive. Even the most Egalitarian oriented of Nova Roma never considered co-sex dining halls, sleeping quarters, and even bathrooms. In this respect, a number of his crew experienced embarrassing and even harassing incidents. Lucius had found the need to hammer more than one individual for behavior that was unacceptable. He had hoped that such behavior would be isolated to a few of the lower enlisted, but Ensign Tascon had proved him wrong. Lucius had felt more than a little satisfaction to slam the Ensign, especially after the initial counseling had failed to yield the desired results.

  The Faraday recruits had issues of their own. Right off he had to release seven well-trained but inadequate officers. The three men and four women had shown potential, but they treated the Ghornath with disgust, and handled the other non-human recruits with contempt. They all had prior service with other militaries, five from the Colonial Republic and two from the Centauri Confederation. Two non-human Wrethe received discharges as well, because of their inability to follow orders from their officers.

  Then again, perhaps trying to integrate Wrethe went a little too far, Lucius acknowledged. The two meter tall, bipedal aliens were known to be both territorial and violently individualistic. Still, from what he had heard, they functioned well in hand-to-hand combat and Major Proscia had been optimistic about their use in boarding operations.

  Faraday had a large refugee population, which hadn’t found it easy to integrate into their new home. With Faraday’s unfair policies towards immigrants, Lucius’s recruiting went well. Many recruits signed on for several years, and some signed on ‘for the duration.’

  Lucius looked over at his new Chief Petty Officer. Chief Winslow’s colorful military background in the Nova Roma Imperial Fleet lasted thirty years, right up to the day he shot and killed his last Captain on his homeworld of Gio Toro. A wanted file remained on the ship’s computer for his capture and return to face a court martial.

  The War Shrike hadn’t had a real Chief Petty Officer since the death of Chief Lagrano. Lucius, reading Chief Winslow’s records, had had initial doubts. On meeting the proper, polished, and professional Chief, he no longer had any.

  Whatever pushed the man to murder his Captain, three decades ago, lay in the past.

  Other military refugees, some of them deserters, others less so, also bolstered his new recruits. Major, now Colonel, Proscia, had even ventured to smile when a platoon of Centauri Marines showed up, en masse, to volunteer. Lucius didn’t doubt they’d done mercenary work to keep themselves fed since the dissolution of the Centauri Confederation. They had a hungry look about them, however, that suggested they’d refused more than one unfair or illegal offer... and suffered for it.

  Lucius shook off his thoughts, and turned back to the simulation monitor. The recruits had finished their basic training and they'd begun their training at their ratings. The newly commissioned officers had also received enough training that they notionally knew their duties. Lucius had felt it time for an evaluation of their progress. Throughout the ship, he'd integrated the trainees with his more experienced crew.

  He'd split them into several smaller crews, in the simulator, though, so that the inexperienced officers would have less to manage and so that the crews would have more individual responsibility.

  He winced internally at the statistics. The gunnery stations had taken severe losses in the the War Shrike's previous engagements and that was where he had the least amount of experienced personnel to train the recruits. Lucius plugged into the communications of both crews, watching the simulated battle on his console’s holovisual unit.

  “Port broadside on third quadrant target A. Lock…. Fire!” the acting Commanding Officer shouted. A third of the shots actually struck the computer-generated target. One well-aimed shot actually slipped through the defense screens. “She’s altering course, maintain gun lock, we’ll match. Prepare to roll ship, rolling.” The barrel roll that the acting CO threw the destroyer into kept the enemy ship in effective firing range, but it also left his rear harder to defend from small craft, such as fighters.

  The computer saw that, analyzed the situation, and the fighters swept in.

  “Fighters inbound in second and third quadrants, port side guns pick your targets and fire at will. Starboard, fire on target A, fire.” This second broadside was dealt from closer range, and just under the equatorial plane of the enemy corvette. A near perfect shot, at five thousand kilom
eters, less than knife range. This broadside tore the lighter ship in half. But the fighters had the same shot, an entire squadron that faced weak defensive fire, with an under-equator shot, and a full payload of missiles.

  The destroyer vanished in a ball of fire less than two minutes after its prey.

  ***

  “Can you tell me what you did wrong?” Lucius asked.

  Lieutenant Daniel Beeson sighed, “I didn’t cover myself from the fighters, I never thought the computer would sacrifice a ship to take out mine.”

  Lucius nodded, “Don’t forget that. Anyone can spot a feint or a trick, but an experienced commander will notice when a bad situation can be turned to the better. The computer did that; the corvette was doomed from the moment it altered course. However, the computer realized that, and adjusted so that its loss would bring victory.” The simulation had gone very much like a skirmish Lucius commanded at the attack on Ghornath Prime. He’d never have thought anyone would sacrifice one ship for another. That decision nearly cost him his life.

  “Isn’t that sort of, well, disgusting… sir? That war is just two people sacrificing lives?”

  Lucius nodded. “Yes, it is vulgar, but so is war. It is impossible to keep all of your people alive, but your efforts should make sure they don’t die in vain. There will be days when you can live with yourself only because you took out the enemy, no matter the cost. It never, ever, gets easy, but then, nothing ever is easy, is it?” Lucius shook his dark humor off. “You did much better than last time though. Your port side batteries are still rough. Another thing, you always have to keep an eye on all of your enemy’s units, no matter where they are. You chased off the fighters early on, and you expected them to keep running instead of coming back in on your tail. Don’t count an enemy out until you have a kill, and even then be cautious.”

  His new Assistant Tactical Officer nodded. “Yes, sir.” He’d been the weapons officer aboard Faraday’s patrol ship, which made him experienced, but marginal on Lucius’ list of officer recruits. Lucius had put more of the experienced crew aboard the Gebneyr. Lucius trusted himself bring the less experienced recruits up to speed quicker.

  “Overall, however, you did very well. Most of those we will be facing out here won’t be the dedicated and selfless warriors of the real fleets. Pirates, mostly. Congratulations on passing this exam and I look forward to seeing you on the bridge, right beside Commander Doko... once you complete your training. You're dismissed, Lieutenant Beeson.”

  The Lieutenant stood and snapped off a sharp salute before he turned and left. Lucius knew that the younger Daniel Beeson’s decision to sign on with him had caused an estrangement with his father. The tall, ruddy faced young man had a sharp mind and seemed to have something to prove, either to himself or to his father, though Lucius wasn't sure that the boy knew which. Captain Beeson commanded the the Faraday Defense Force's elderly destroyer, though from what Lucius had heard, he apparently served as a military adviser to several members of Faraday's Moderate Party.

  Lieutenant Beeson filled out his officer complement. His enlisted crew was still learning their duties, as evidenced by their efforts in the simulation. Lucius figured another month would be just long enough to bring them up to his minimum training standards. Endless drilling and practice would, hopefully, tighten them down and make them as good a crew as any who had served aboard the War Shrike before.

  Morale had started to climb again, a combination of the new and energetic recruits and the effort that Lucius had dedicated to rebuild the ship's morale. Most of the original crew had come from Nova Roma or one of her daughter colonies. The blow over their homeworld's loss had hit hard. Families, friends, everything and everyone they had known off of the ship were gone, lost to the Chxor. Hardest hit was his brother-in-law, Lucius knew. His former friend went about his tasks, but the normally cheerful man had become bitter and angry.

  His XO, Commander Doko was also hit hard, but Lucius knew that was as much about something that never could have happened as actual loss. The lowly-born officer knew he never would have stood a chance, especially not as close as he was to Lucius. Politically, his affections were absurd. Still, he loved the girl and she him... and now they'll never get a chance to get over one another, Lucius thought. He wished, not for the first time, that the convoluted politics of Nova Roma and their noble houses had never come to be.

  Might as well wish that my father never betrayed the Empire, Lucius knew, or that my grandmother fell in love with Emperor Romulus I.

  Lucius shook of that thought and forced his mind back to the task at hand. In addition to training the new crew members, Lucius had to design battle plans for eventualities. He had to allocate his resources to make certain that any attack could be dealt with. With the Gebneyr repaired and an aged freighter purchased to act as an improvised fighter carrier, the force would be something to reckon with, should anyone attack. Lucius hoped for quiet times as long as possible, however.

  He feared things wouldn’t stay quiet for long. Lucius had finally gained access to some Faraday Defense Force records. Two previous Colonial Republic forces steered clear after bluffs and threats over retaliation. The previous mercenaries had run off a disorganized pirate raid. Those occurrences suggested that even someplace as remote as Faraday wouldn’t stay lost for long.

  The Chxor Empire continued to expand.

  The threats made Lucius anxious. Faraday had the potential to work out very well, or to go very badly indeed.

  ***

  CHAPTER III

  November 5, 2402 Earth Standard Time

  Faraday System

  Unclaimed Space

  The ships of Nova Roma and the other stellar nations didn’t match the power of the fallen Amalgamated Worlds Fleet. They had built ships of scale and power, with overlapping defense screens, antimatter reactors, and advanced weapons.

  Nevertheless, the designers of the Nova Roma ships of the line had done their best. They managed to create defense screens that protected, if not all of the ship, three quarters of the hull, leaving only the full aft hemisphere, and the ‘khon’ sections open. The khon sections being four eddies in the forward area of the screens, caused from the tension of stretching the energy as far as was needed.

  The War Shrike was a Desperado-class battleship, designed for the quick, fast, and furious clashes of skirmish lines, convoy raiding, and recon in force. She had two sets of turret-mounted dual exotic particle cannons, an over-powerful armament for her size, and her intended duties. The later decision to put the Desperadoes to work in the wall of battle against larger ships proved a fiasco. They inflicted heavy damage on their opponents but – invariably -- lost. The most notable example was the Battle of Khon, where the lighter but more numerous guns of the enemy found the forward shielding of the Desperadoes to be inadequate in four specific locations. Those four sections bore their namesake from that battle.

  The reasons for the horrendous losses, both in that battle and others, was that the Desperado-class lent most of its energy in offense. When it came down to taking damage itself, the lighter battleships lost against more massive dreadnoughts. Desperadoes such as the War Shrike carried only two squadrons of fighters, mounted only a small amount of electronic countermeasures, and in the end, simply didn’t have large enough power plants to produce the strong defensive screens of larger ships.

  They proved extremely effective in defending convoys, both singly and in groups, from raiders. It was when Nova Roma Fleet Command ordered the remaining Desperado-class battleships to begin raids at the will of the captain and whatever opportunities arose, that the true glory of the battleships arose. The War Shrike had killed over forty-three convoy escorts, and at least three times that number of convoy vessels. In fact, the War Shrike had one of the most-feared reputations to the enemies of Nova Roma.

  Perhaps that was why Task Force Seven of the Chxor fleet made the War Shrike its primary target.

  Perhaps... then again, perhaps not.

 
Squadron Commander Kleigh drove Task Force Seven after the War Shrike. Kleigh, being a typical Chxor, was very logical minded, structure oriented, and ultimately, a perfectionist. He had faced the War Shrike in no less than three occasions. On all three, despite overwhelming numbers, distinct firepower advantage, and in the end, even complete surprise, the War Shrike had escaped him.

  It made no sense, it followed no pattern; the War Shrike was an anomaly, completely atypical of the logic and order of the universe. The Chxor were superior. The Chxor destroyed all who opposed their inevitable expansion, the Chxor created order out of disorder. Nothing, nothing, could long oppose the Chxor Empire, Squadron Commander Kleigh knew.

  Therefore, Kleigh decided that the War Shrike must be eliminated.

  Kleigh felt no personal loathing towards his prey; nor respect either. The Chxor had long previously abandoned emotion as inferior to the necessary structure and order of a modern society. However, an objective observer may have noted that Kleigh held a perverse fixation on the destruction of the War Shrike. Many xenothropologists considered this blind dedication to a goal that the Chxor often underwent a natural outlet for the suppression of their emotions. Most other people without the benefits of such a brilliant education simply understood the Chxor sometimes went insane.

  Regardless, Kleigh performed with maximum efficiency as he gave his latest command, in an orderly and calm voice. His crusade for order would soon be over. Hours spent in trying to detect the escape course of his prey had finally paid off. There had been interruptions, as the task force dealt with any enemy ships they located in the search of their main target, a good many number in actuality, far too many for the sector to remain unmanaged by the Chxor. Order should be maintained, after all.