Authors: Michael Freeport
A Faded Star
Copyright
© 2016 by Michael Freeport
All
rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used
in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents
are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is
purely coincidental.
Acknowledgements:
I would like to
give a very special thanks to the following individuals:
Karen
Brickey Reeve
Celia Reeve
Phoebe Nathan
Gary Brewer
Thank you for the
help and motivation. This book would never have been done without all of your
insight and well placed kicks in my butt.
For:
My parents.
You always believed in me. I can never repay you for your support.
1
Aden glanced up the street, his brown eyes darting
from face to face. His thoughts were full of the anticipation of seeing his
brother for the first time in over four years. The cool breeze ruffled his
short hair as he waited nervously for his brother to arrive. The street held
far fewer people than he would expect for this time of morning. The small cafe
he was waiting at was near his childhood home where his brother and mother
still lived. As he turned to look the other direction, Asher slipped into the
chair across the table from him.
He looked his brother over. He had aged since Aden had
last seen him. Grey showed at his temples, and new wrinkles had appeared around
his eyes and mouth. His expression was cold and appraising as he looked back at
Aden.
Aden stopped himself from a more familiar greeting
when he saw the expression on his brother's face. Instead, he said, “Good
morning, Asher. I hope you're doing well.”
Asher continued gazing steadily at Aden for a moment
before responding. “Aden. I presume you've asked me here for something
important?”
The conversation was already going badly. Aden had
rehearsed how this conversation would go in his mind many times while waiting
for it to begin. He had not seen Asher - or his mother - since leaving to join
the Lashmere Military Academy four years earlier. Asher had refused him on
multiple occasions. He had finally forced the issue by just telling Asher when
and where to meet him. “Asher, I have good news. I've been assigned to the
Rampart and wanted to see you and mom before I left. I'll probably be off
planet for a long time. I had hoped you would bring her.”
“Bring mother? Why? So she could look at her traitor
son one last time?” Asher's mouth was twisted into a contemptuous snarl as he
finished speaking. “She has nothing to say to you in any event.”
Aden sighed explosively He shouldn't have expected
anything else from his brother. “How can I be a traitor? The Karn Nation no
longer exists, and I am serving the only legitimate government that exists on
this planet, Asher.” Aden held up his hand to forestall his brother's response.
“I just wanted you to know I would probably be gone is all.”
“On the Rampart?”
“Yes. On the Rampart.”
“The Ebrim built that ship to annihilate the Karn
people, and now you come to me, beaming with good news. You smile like the
poor, brainwashed idiot you are and stand ready to serve aboard with pride. Do
you even remember who you are? Where you come from? There may not be a Karn
nation on any map, Aden, but the Karn people still exist,” Asher thumped his
chest, “Here, in our hearts, no one can conquer us.”
“It's not about that anymore, Asher. In any event, the
ship never even fired a shot at the Karn people. I'm lucky to serve on the
Rampart. It is the flagship of the Lashmere Navy now.”
“Lashmere Navy.” Asher spat the words out like a
curse. “You mean the Ebrim Navy, don't you?”
“It is the Lashmere Navy now. It represents all the
people on this planet, not one group specifically and certainly not nations
that no longer exist like the Ebrim and Karn.”
“That's because there was no Karn Navy after the
forced our surrender. They destroyed all our ships after the war.” Asher shook
his head and looked at Aden like he was staring at a foolish child making an
obvious mistake. “I hope you understand how deeply you've hurt mother and me,
chasing after your selfish dream with no regard for how your family feels. Why
do you insist on staying in that uniform, in the navy that has done nothing but
destroy everything you and your family stood for for so long?”
Aden kept his voice from quavering with effort.
“Father would have understood.”
“Father would have disowned you.”
“Asher, that's not true. Father knew I was always
going to serve in space. If it couldn't be the Karn Navy, then it would have to
be the Lashmere Navy. He knew.”
“And how, exactly, can you say that with such
certainty? Does he visit you from beyond the grave to give you his blessing to
join and fight alongside the people who murdered him?”
Aden's eyes widened in disbelief. His brother had been
upset about him joining the Lashmere Navy, but now he was so hateful, so
enraged. Aden barely recognized the man who, twenty years before, had carried
his younger brother on his shoulders and had shown him how to enjoy the outdoors
and all the other precious childhood memories that made him the older brother
he had loved and missed. “Asher, I don't know what's wrong with you. It's
hardly news that I'm a part of the Lashmere Navy. I've been in service for over
two years and was at the academy for two years before that. I've sent you and
mother regular communications about my progress. Both of you knew I had been
selected for the tactical drone officer training program. Both of you knew I
received a meritorious promotion to Lieutenant Commander for my performance at
the tactical drone school, or would have if you'd read the messages I'd sent.
There's only one ship with a tactical drone compliment: The Rampart.”
Asher's hands tightened into fists until his knuckles
showed white. He sat silently for a moment, his face fixed in an expressionless
mask. When he spoke again, his voice was rough and low, a sure sign his
typically slow temper was near the breaking point. “One day, you will realize
how much you have betrayed yourself to be one of those murderers. When you do,
contact me. Until then, stay away from us.” With that, Asher thrust himself
from his chair and strode towards the street.
Aden leaped from his seat and chased after him,
catching him at the corner of the cafe where they had been sitting. He grabbed
Asher's arm and turned him around. “Asher, please. Please don't go this way.
I'm not sure when I'll get back. The Rampart may be in space for years.”
Asher snatched his arm free of his brother's grip. “I
will tell our mother you are gone, brother.” Asher's lip curled, and his eyes
narrowed. “I will tell her you have given up being Karn, that you are now
Ebrim.” Asher spun on his heel and strode swiftly away, almost running.
Aden stared after his brother's retreating back, his mouth
agape. He knew his brother still had hard feelings about the war and how it
ended, but Aden had been too young to serve and too young to truly grasp the
importance of what was happening. When the Lashmere Planetary Government had
been formed and subsequently announced the newly minted Lashmere Military
Academy would accept applicants from both the Ebrim and Karn regions, he'd
joined as soon as he was old enough.
Aden pulled the formal, printed orders out of his
pocket and held them for a moment, pondering how his life was going. He'd read
the orders so many times; he knew the wording by heart. Turning back to the
cafe, he sat and stared at the packet of thick, creased paper with its stilted
words, ordering him to report aboard to the position of tactical officer; not
some junior grade, but a full department head. He had achieved one of his most
treasured goals, short of actual command of a space-faring vessel. Aden wished
the joy of his achievement did not taste like ashes in his mouth after talking to
his brother. His coffee was long cold by the time he paid for it and went to
the train station.
The ride to the southern spaceport was quiet. There
was hardly anyone on the train at first, but when it crossed into former Ebrim
territory the number of people skyrocketed. When Aden exited the train, there
were at least two people for every seat. As he exited the train station, he
pulled his orders out again. Technically, he had two more weeks before he was
required to report aboard. He had hoped he would be spending this time catching
up with his brother and mother before a long space assignment, but now he just
wanted to get to the ship and begin his duties. Looking over his shoulder at
the train station, he almost felt the closing of a chapter of his life. His
feelings of loss were tempered by the thought that he had done everything he
could to keep his brother and mother close. They were the ones who could not
accept how things had changed since the war ended. Aden packed his regrets into
a corner of his mind and turned to face the present. He strode into the
spaceport with a new sense of purpose.
Commodore Franklin Stokes walked down the lavishly
appointed hallways at Lashmere Naval Command, formerly Ebrim Naval Command. He
had been roused early with orders to report to Admiral Vesper, one of the
remaining seven Admirals in the Naval command structure. Once the war had
ended, many of the most senior officers had retired, their roles no longer
needed and their ideas on operations no longer salient to a navy with no enemy
to fight.
Stokes knocked and entered Admiral Vesper's office.
“Good morning, sir,” he said to the silver-haired Admiral.
Vesper looked up from the report he was hunched over.
“Commodore Stokes, good morning. I have your final orders. As I have been
hinting to you for months, you are being ordered to replace the yard captain
aboard the Rampart.
Stokes suppressed what should have been a huge grin at
the news. He had been fairly certain for quite some time, but finally knowing
for sure he was going to command the fleet's new flagship was a tremendous
moment. “Sir, I am honored. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“You've more than earned it, Commodore. The fleet
needs an experienced captain and a man who can lead them in any situation. Your
experience and performance in the war and since prove you are that man.”
Admiral Vesper handed the order packet to Stokes over his desk. “Let me be the
first to congratulate you.” Vesper extended his hand.
Stokes shook firmly and then said, “Thank you, sir.”
“Do you have time for a technical briefing,
Commodore?”
Stokes knew the questions was rhetorical. If the
Admiral wished it, he would spend the next week listening to whatever the
Admiral felt he needed to hear. “Of course, sir. I am at your disposal.”
“Relax, Commodore. In this office, I have the rare
opportunity to be informal. Call me Jake.” He gestured to a pair of overstuffed
leather chairs.
“Yes, sir.” Stokes settled himself into the indicated
seat. “Where do we begin?”
Vesper stepped out from behind his desk and opened a
small cabinet built against the far wall from the door. “Would you like
something to drink? This briefing may take quite a while.”
“Thank you, I'll have whatever you are having.”
“Excellent.” The Admiral poured two glasses of an
amber liquor over ice and brought them to the second chair, separated by a
small round table. After setting the glasses down, he plucked a remote from his
pocket and activated a screen on the wall the chairs faced. The screen came up
to show an overview of a ship, the Rampart. “This is the classified briefing.
Most of the offensive and defensive systems originally planned for the Rampart
are unchanged. The biggest upgrades are in scientific and sensor capacities.
How much do you know about the originally planned systems?”
“Not a great deal, only what everyone knows from the
unclassified information release,” Stokes replied.
“I'll take you through it system by system, Mister
Stokes. The sensor suite has been upgraded to three separate arrays from the
originally planned two. The third array is a long range sensor designed to
obtain information about adjacent star systems and interstellar energy sources.
We've aggressively suppressed any knowledge of the existence of the new sensor
technology. The fact that we've learned to see what's happening as much as ten
light-years away in real time is something we don't want the general public to
be aware of just yet. This third sensor suite augments the standard tactical
and short-range navigational sensors.”
“Faster than light sensors?” Stokes leaned forward in
his seat. “I heard we were close to developing them but...” he trailed off
speculatively.
Vesper nodded. “We completed development a few months
ago. The prototype system was pressed into service for Rampart's launch. We
have also incorporated a third generation point to point drive. The theoretical
range of the drive is between seven and eight light years. For day to day
operations, the safety interlock is set at five light years.”
Stokes could not contain his astonishment. The last
generation of the point to point drives had a range of ten to twelve light
days. This increase in range made interstellar travel a real possibility.
“That's an amazing breakthrough, Admiral.”
“Indeed. The combat systems aboard the Rampart
represent an equally sizable quantum leap forward. The on board drone systems
carry as much firepower as a previous generation fighter with the dimensions of
a life pod. The main gun is more than seven times as powerful as the one aboard
the Bastion.” The Bastion was the previous flagship, now being replaced by the
Rampart. “Most of the upgrades are the brainchildren of the same scientist.”
Vesper tapped a button on his remote. The screen changed to a portrait of a
young woman, red-haired and heavily freckled. Service record data began to
scroll up next to the picture. “This is Lieutenant Marli Simmons. She's
currently assigned as an adviser to the Rampart for the shakedown cruise. Her
time there has been invaluable so far.”
Stokes looked the woman's picture over. “She isn't
permanently assigned to the crew, then?”
Vesper shook his head. “No, and you aren't going to
get her. We had to fight tooth and nail to get her away from research and
development for long enough to complete the shakedown cruise, much less a three
year space assignment. You have her for the next six weeks, eight at the most,
and then she's gone.” Vesper paused and took a sip of his drink before
continuing. “Your executive officer is Commander Linis Hanlon. She graduated top
of her class in command school and turned down a command of her own to take the
position of executive officer aboard the Rampart. She's been informed of your
orders and is preparing for your arrival now.” Vesper pressed a button on his
remote and a picture of a tall brunette who appeared on the edge of smiling
despite the serious expression she wore.