Slipspace: Harbinger Read online

  SLIPSPACE: HARBINGER

  P C HARING

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This book is intended for private and personal use only and may not be reproduced in whole or in part in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any matter except as previously authorized in writing by the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, places, and events appearing in this work may resemble actual people, places, and events and is coincidental.

  BISAC: Fiction/Science Fiction/High Tech

  For more information about this book or to contact the author please visit www.pcharing.net

  Copyright © 2017 P.C. Haring, Naperville, IL

  CREATED IN THE UNITED STATES

  Created with Vellum

  To Jen

  When the world is at its darkest, you are my light.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Between the blaring alarms and the shaking under her feet, Cassandra might have thought the gates of hell had opened, exposing the planet to a demonic swarm. The tremors intensified, throwing her violently out of her cot and onto the concrete floor. Wincing, she stumbled to her feet. The alarms would not be silenced, and the public-address system demanded her attention in Forward Command. Lucky for her, she had not taken her boots off when she’d settled in for her nap, so responding to the call required little more than grabbing her duty jacket and sidearm. Securing both, she raced out of the barracks, across the small field, and into the forward command center. The ground shook once again, throwing her off balance and into a Marine guard. She pushed off him and hurdled the stairs to the war room. Operators scrambled at their posts as they responded to the crisis. Crossing the small room, she took her position just behind the officer on duty.

  “Report,” she ordered.

  “Enemy movement, Lieutenant Commander, lots of enemy movement! They were dormant just a few minutes ago, but now advancing fast. Distance two point three klicks and closing, ETA three minutes.”

  Cassandra grabbed a pair of binoculars. The elevated vantage of Forward Command allowed her a better field of view, but as she focused on the enemy’s advance, she could only make out a brown cloud of dust and debris. They had to be advancing fast to cover two klicks in three minutes. They needed to thin and slow the enemy line.

  “Order the artillery to fire at will.”

  The ground shook beneath them.

  “What’s causing that?” she asked.

  “No idea. Tectonic plate activity is stable and the enemy is too far out to cause any signifi...”

  The ground in front of them exploded from below, sending rock debris in all directions. Cassandra and her operators instinctively turned away, shielding their faces. A hideous roar pierced the explosion as the monstrous form of a Ralgon warrior emerged from the blast hole. The crab-like creature scuttled over the debris as its front claw shot out and clamped down on a marine who had been too close to get clear in time. With an effortless snap the claw closed, cutting the marine in two. Hell-spawn indeed.

  “Covering fire!”

  The Ralgon scuttled in retreat under the combined fire from the remaining marines. Cassandra drew her own weapon, the soprano staccato of her side-arm joining the gunfire’s chorus. The Ralgon pulled back further, thrusting its claw through the chest of a second marine as it trampled an operator who had been injured in the explosion. Backing itself into a corner, it’s sharp legs dug into the wall. Under assault of the withering gunfire, the Ralgon retreated higher before launching itself into the air. From behind Cassandra came the ‘ka-chunk’ of a grenade launcher firing its ordinance. The explosive connected, reducing the monstrous creature into a mess of exploding body parts and fluids that rained down on the surviving personnel.

  Cassandra would never know how she kept her stomach in check.

  “Ma’am,” her operator called. “We’ve got multiple ground penetration events within the perimeter. Forward Artillery has been destroyed and the enemy column is continuing to advance. Distance now one and a half klicks, ETA two and a half minutes.”

  Cassandra took in a breath as she gathered herself. “Reinforcements?”

  “They won’t get here in time.”

  “Right then,” she said, running her hands through her blood-stained hair. “Send the signal. Call down the air support.”

  A moment passed as the operator executed the order. “Ma’am...I’m getting no response from the fleet.”

  Cassie turned sharply. “What do you mean, you’re getting no response?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am. The fleet is not in range of our signal.”

  She suppressed the urge to panic and forced herself to focus. She leaned down so she could speak into the operator’s ear without being overheard.

  “Sergeant, where is our air support?”

  The sergeant silently pointed at his display. On the screen, the icons representing her air support pulled out of orbit and moved deeper into the system. As the implications set in, she took a step back, and surveyed the battlefield. The enemy’s advance continued. They would be on top of them in minutes. Making matters worse, the perimeter had been breached from below and her forward defenders found themselves literally ripped limb from limb. Blood poured from body parts, staining the ground. It was over before it had even begun. Cassandra looked up at the sky as though she could see the fleet, closed her eyes and made peace with her death.

  September 28, 2832

  09:15

  Earth

  CASSANDRA AMADO SCREAMED as she shot bolt upright in her bed. Just as fast as it seized her, the terror let go, leaving her sitting in a cold sweat, chest heaving as she locked onto reality. Hospital bed, Earth. No war. Safe. She fell back against her pillow and closed her eyes as she rubbed her forehead. Eleven years and the nightmare persisted. Less blood than last time, though. A knock at the door drew her out of the memory.

  She propped herself up to receive her guest. “Come in.”

  The door opened and Cody walked through. She sighed and deflated at the first sight of her brother. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “In the flesh,” he said, his voice just as emotionless as hers. “You look pale. Nightmares again?”

  She kicked the covers off and turned to sit on the edge of her bed. She would not give him the satisfaction of appearing sick or weak. “I’m peachy,” she snapped. “How about you?”

  “Nice to see you too,” Cody said. “What are you doing here? I thought you were doing better?”

  “Annual evaluation. After eleven years, I would have thought you’d remember.”

  “Of course, I’m sorry.” Cody said.

  A moment passed as Cody slid a chair to her bedside. “Other than the nightmares, how have you been?”

  She scowled. As if he couldn’t make better small talk than that. “What, you suddenly care about my well-being?”

  “Oh, here we go again.” Cody threw his arms up in disgust. “Poor Cassandra got a shitty deal and now the world owes her for all the pain and suffering she’s
been forced to endure.”

  She glared at him. “Don’t start. Don’t even presume to act as if you had no role in this at all. You’ve killed my career!”

  “Look! I know what I did! Do I regret the collateral damage? Absolutely! Would I do it again, knowing all the consequences? In a heartbeat! Yes, you got screwed and I’m sorry about that. But I stand by my decision!”

  “Yeah and Central pinned a medal to your chest for screwing me.”

  “I tried to refuse it! You think I wanted the recognition? I was just doing my damned job.”

  “You’re still a bastard.” She had to stop herself from smiling at that last bit. His reaction—a quick recoil as though he’d been slapped—was a thing of beauty.

  “If you want to blame me, fine. I’ve accepted that. But stop dwelling on it, and don’t take your anger at me out on our parents. Do you know how worried they’ve been about you? They’ve been trying to reach you for the past four months! Would you at least return their call?”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. She wanted to talk to her parents less than she did Cody. She did not need any more guilt laid at her feet. “I have nothing to say to them.”

  “How nice. I’ll make sure to pass that message along.”

  She gave no response and silence hung between the two of them once more. But he got up and paced, saying nothing and wasting her time. “What are you doing here?”

  Cody faced her. “I stopped by to check in on you. I know you asked for space, but I was getting worried.”

  Cassie scoffed. “Try harder next time. You screwed me, so you’ll understand if I’m not eager to relieve your guilt.”

  Cody’s face hardened in frustration. “The second reason I’m here,” he said slowly and calmly, “is because I have new orders for you...”

  “Oh, great,” Cassie interrupted, “what backwater post do you have for me now?” she took a breath. “You know, I don’t care. I don’t need or want your charity.”

  “Too damn bad, Cassie.” Cody removed a tablet from his side bag. “And this isn’t charity. This posting is one that’s going to make you work and one you might actually enjoy…” His voice trailed off. “Assuming you can shut up long enough hear what it is.”

  She remained silent.

  “The Alliance has been working on a new generation of ships for the fleet. The first ship off the line, launches in a week, it still needs an Executive Officer, and its Captain has requested you.”

  For the first time since he had come in, she did not know what to say. Finally, she was going to get back to a ship. Her obscure desk at the logistics office in Dubai left much to be desired. This time she might actually get to do something with herself. That was, of course, assuming her commanding officer wasn’t a self- righteous ass like her brother.

  “Commander Cassandra Amado,” Cody read, “by order of Alliance Central Command you are hereby assigned to the post of Executive Officer of the ISPA battleship Mjöllnir. Your medical leave is hereby terminated, and you are requested—and required—to report to your post within three standard days of receipt of these orders.”

  Cody keyed the tablet, signaling a successful delivery and clicked off the display before tossing the tablet into her lap. She did not pick it up, but rather looked at it like a child would look at a piece of food she did not want to eat. One question burned in her mind.

  “Why me?”

  “As I said, you were requested by the Commanding Officer. Apparently, he thinks you’re still worth a damn.”

  Cassie’s mind swirled on what had just happened as Cody gathered his belongings and started for the door. She had been looking for this for years and now that it was actually happening, it felt unreal. Someone had requested her.

  “Who,” she called as Cody reached the door.

  “Read the orders,” Cody responded as the door started to close behind him.

  Another few minutes passed before she re-activated the tablet and pulled up the orders. She read the name. Hoping it was a mistake, she tapped around a few subsequent screens to see if she had misread, but came back to the same name.

  “Shit.”

  September 28, 2832

  12:35

  Luna

  MAJOR JENNA LABONNE stifled her third yawn in as many minutes. She looked up and watched the surface rush over her head, a mere one hundred meters above her. These patrol routes were a far cry from the combat missions and demonstration routines on which she had cut her teeth. With the Ralgon War a decade in the past and interstellar politics settling into stability, the need for the fighter corps had diminished. Sure, she had missed the war by almost three years, but for a while there had been plenty of skirmishes among the civilized races. Most of the smaller squadrons were either assigned to the flight decks of various cruisers, battleships, carriers and other specialized vessels, or disbanded entirely. Larger squadrons, such as the Gryphons, were kept intact and assigned to garrison an orbital slipstation and she had been afforded the privilege of flying with the Hellcats demonstration team. All in all, she had done well for herself.

  Labonne ticked off the last few seconds in her mind and snapped to attention as she rolled her fighter into Titan’s Trench. The tall, narrow trench marked the last leg of her patrol route. Standing orders called for a flight over the canyon’s length to gather data from the sensor stations built within the trench. Flying within the trench itself was deemed too hazardous as its narrow width demanded that a ship fly with a ninety-degree roll, wings perpendicular to the surface. Even then, a pilot had little more than five meters with which to maneuver.

  She disengaged the autopilot and rolled into the trench.

  Halfway through the run, the communications alarm shattered the relative quiet of her cockpit. Startled, she jerked the flight controls, causing her aft stabilizer to scrape the rock face.

  “Shit.” She compensated, realigned her fighter’s course and slammed her hand against the receive button. The garbled transmission cracked in her ear as the mayday call came in.

  “To any vessels within the sound of my voice: this is the cargo ship Lincoln, leading cargo convoy Four Bravo between Mars and Luna. We’re under attack by pirate vessels and need immediate assistance!”

  Labonne frowned and switched her comm. to her wingman. “Labonne to Mitchell, are you detecting the convoy, and can you confirm?”

  “Mitchell here, Major. The convoy is just coming into range of my sensors. Wow...Major, they’re taking a real beating.”

  Labonne didn’t bother to respond. Instead, she pulled out of the trench and rolled into an attack vector. Mitchell formed up on her wing. “We’re going in. Throttle to full and keep it open until you get within range.” As her ship surged forward, she switched the comm. back to the transports.

  “Four Bravo, this is Luna patrol One Alpha, we’re on our way. Continue taking evasive actions. We estimate intercept in less than two minutes. Hang in there, we’re coming.”

  Labonne closed the communication link and focused her sensors forward. The convoy consisted of ten identically configured vessels. Although she was too far out to scan the convoy’s load, the safe assumption was that whatever they carried would not react well to the extreme velocities of Slipspace travel, thus necessitating the need for a sub-light cargo convoy. Labonne keyed her consoles and a holographic display appeared, showing the convoy and the pirates in near-real time.

  Of the six attackers, one pirate vessel opened fire on the fourth cargo ship. The target’s engine housing exploded and fell away from the rest of the ship. The pirates split off, each ship taking its own target. The trailing convoy ship came under heavy fire that tore its pod open. Cargo spewed into the vacuum followed by a pair of flailing figures that stilled as they froze.

  “Mitchell, contact Luna gate and bring them up to speed.”

  “Already done, Major.”

  “Transition to attack configuration and form up. We go in aggressive.”

  “Copy that.”

  The wings o
f her fighter spread open as her weapons system came online. With a minute remaining until intercept, Labonne armed and primed the ship’s weapons. Forty-five seconds out, the convoy came in view of her naked eye. The pirate ships were standard fare. Rigged for fast aggressive attack with an added cargo module on the underside, these vessels had one job: rip a freighter open, steal the cargo, fly off.

  Empty, the fighters boasted superior speed, maneuverability, and firepower over their victims, even despite the freighters’ reinforced hulls. If the freighters carried even a basic ECM system on board, the convoy as a whole could throw up enough interference to frustrate their attackers. However, most Captains preferred not to give space that could be used for profitable cargo to the defensive system. Further, with a proper escort, ECM defenses would be un-necessary.

  That thought stuck with her.

  “Four Bravo, this is One Alpha. State your escort’s condition.”

  “Gone!”

  Thirty-seconds away from weapons range, a brilliant light flashed as the disabled fourth vessel erupted in a ball of fire and slag.

  Fifteen seconds out, she opened up a comm. channel to deliver the standard warning she knew would do no good. “Attention pirate vessels! This is Major Jenna Labonne of the ISPA Fighter Corps. Break off your attack immediately or we will open fire. You have ten seconds to comply.”