Blood War 1: Last Stand of the Legion: Rift

LAST STAND OF THE LEGION

RIFT

BOOK ONE OF

THE BLOOD WAR SERIES

By

Rod Carstens

Rift

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2014 by Roger C. Huder

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

Cover art by Roger C. Huder

PROLOGUE

FLEET DESTROYER LYRE

CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS

PATROL AREA BRAVO

SOL STANDARD 11/09

1200 HOURS

POST UNIFICATION YEAR 69

When you are in command there are times that require decisions you will live with for the rest of your life. Right or wrong, people will die and the outcome is in doubt. Captain Tamara Lule was faced with such a decision. She knew what she was asking of the Legionnaires was essentially a suicide mission but it didn't matter, too much hung in the balance. If the wake-up or the patrol distance didn't kill them then the aliens would. Yet she couldn't stop thinking about the children. She would not have the children on her conscience again, not this time. She had to order the patrol even if there was no hard evidence. Even if there was only the slightest chance of success she had to give the order. She could feel them out there.

"Wake up the Meat."

The Lieutenant had never heard the Captain refer to the Legionnaires as Meat before. He had heard it from any number of other officers when referring to the Legionnaries but never the Captain. If you called a Legionnaire Meat to their face you were in for a fight, one that you would lose.

"But Captain
, we just put them down." 

Captain Tamara Lule knew the risks. Putting the Legionnaires into status before the rest of the
crew was standard operating procedure before a wormhole transit. The naval crew would prepare the ship and then go into status. If you pulled people out of status too quickly, there were always physical consequences. Sometimes those consequences could be catastrophic. It was easier to think of someone as just Meat, instead of individuals when you were ordering them to their deaths. In spite of his discomfort, Lieutenant Byrne felt he had to press the issue.

"If we wake them this soon, we will have casualties
," Lieutenant Byrne said.

Tamara whirled around. She towered over Byrne, only adding to his uneasiness.

"I didn't ask for your advice Lieutenant. I gave you an order. They are Legionnaires; they took the oath. Half of them took the opportunity to change their names, which means they are running from something. Many of the others had a choice between jail or the Legion. The rest joined knowing the risks involved. They've made their choice. Now see to it."

"With all due respect, the alarm is probably only a malfunction. We will be within sensor range within 24 hours.  We could delay the decision until then. Gaxola is over an astronomical unit away that is at the very edge of the range of their ships. Their crystals will be pushed to
the limit not to mention the physical toll on the Legionnaires."

"Lieutenant, I'm well aware of the numbers. I do not need a lecture on the capabilities of the fighters nor their pilots. I want the platoon leader in front of me within the hour."

"Yes, Captain." Lieutenant Byrne turned on his heel and left the Captain's quarters, the door dilating closed behind him.  Captain Lule picked up the Gaxola report from communications.  The paper instantly glowed a gentle green.  She scrolled through the report again, pausing to examine the 3D image of Gaxola.

It could be nothing, just as the Lieutenant had said, but she had a hunch. Unless she put troops in the system soon it could be too late, just as they had been too late at Ixco. She was only a new mid-shipman at the time, but she would never forget what might have been had they launched sooner. She would not let that happen again, not as long as she was in command.  As Captain of the destroyer Lyre, she only had one platoon of Legionnaires at her disposal
. They would have to do; she had no choice but to wake them up.

             
Captain Lule had been on the frontiers now for many years, she had learned when to ride a hunch, even when it placed others at risk.

FLEET DESTROYER LYRE

PATROL AREA BRAVO

SOL STANDARD 11/09

LEGION QUARTERS

1310 HOURS

Lieutenant Dasan Daniel Sand staggered and almost fell against the bulkhead. He put out his hand to steady himself against the cold metal wall.

He felt as if he had not slept or eaten in days. His body was struggling to adjust to the sudden increase in his energy levels.  Putting someone into status required a meticulous balance of minimum metabolic stores and bodily consumption.  To wake someone suddenly threw the fundamental balance of your body off, and left you weakened and at risk of more serious consequences until that balance could be restored. The medics had a name for the syndrome, it was called Status Insult, and Dasan was in the throes of Status Insult.

Dasan had gone into Status thinking that he had made his last patrol. He had done his time.  He would wake up a civilian.  All he had left was a short jump and he would be out. A few weeks asleep, and he was a free man.  Free to go home and to start over.  Instead he faced another patrol. He could hardly bring himself to think about it. He leaned his forehead against the
cold bulkhead; he was so tired of being cold.

Warmth had come to mean home to Dasan. No more of the cold dark emptiness of space. Instead he longed for the warm golden light of a
Groombridge sunset on Isi coming through a window in a small house on a hill, the loving warmth of a wife in his bed each night. The comforts of a home and a life outside the Legion, instead of the Legion's Spartan life with just a metal walled compartment shared with another officer as your only respite.  He had spent eight long years on the frontiers, and had nothing to show for it, except the loss of those years and the loneliness it left behind. The Breed and Unification wars were long over. All of the human breeds and their individual empires had been brought under one government, The Confederation of Independent Systems. There was little adventure to be had in the Legion now. All he wanted was to get out of the Legion and try to start a life.

Now
, instead of a nice long jump sleep and a wake up, he was facing another patrol, another physical beating for his body.  He thought he was finished with all of that. He wanted to run away.  Go somewhere, anywhere, but there was nowhere to run on a destroyer class escort, on the edge of the known systems. There was only the cold black space outside.

He glanced at his own reflection in the smoked glass of the passageway. He was startled by his appearance. The blues and blacks of his service tattoos stood out sharply against the pale skin of his face.  He looked ten years older. The blue and black teardrop tattoos started at the corner of his right eye,
cascading down over his cheek and to his chin, his years of service marking his face.  His irises were perfectly clear now, no pigment left in them.  The years of flying in plasma had washed them completely out.  He was becoming one of them, one of the lifers, the ones who stayed on the frontiers because they had nothing else. The Aijuba's of the Legion, the ones who spent their life out here; he could not, no he would not, it made no sense.  There seemed to be no point to the endless sacrifice.

The Navy was different. Do your enlistment as an officer and you came out to good job offers from the corporations. Even the enlisted were snapped up for
the technical skills they had acquired in the service. Former Naval personnel either found a good job within their home systems or went to work for one of the multi-system corporations. The Flag Officers usually ended up in politics or at the top of the pyramid of some corporation. Joining the Navy opened many doors for many people. The Legion was different.

First
, all enlisted personnel had to enlist under a pseudonym. This declared identity was felt a fair way to give everyone a chance at a new start. Men and women became Legionnaires for many reasons; some to disappear from a past, some to escape jail, some to gain citizenship, some because they had no other options and some for the adventure. For most it was a chance to start over with a new name and a clean slate. You're past erased by your service.

He had joined to spite his father. The lure of the adventure of the Legion and gaining citizenship had been his stated reasons, but the real drive was to go against his father's wishes
; for the first time in his life, he could finally act without his consent. To take a path not ordered by his father and the family's company.  His father's words had echoed through the years, "Son you will be wasting those years, citizenship is not worth it. You come from one of the most prestigious families in the Groombridge system. It will be a waste of your life." He had been right.

He could not regain the lost years now. While others his age had gone on to professions and riches, all he had to show for his sacrifice were the tattoos, and citizenship. His brother was now the Operations Chief for the famil
y business and they had just opened a branch on Taini, the largest of the populated planets in the system. In his last email he said that they were up for a huge contract with Von Fleet and it would make the family business one of the largest in the system.

Confederation citizenship was a valuable commodity, with it came the coveted Confederation
-wide passport. It was so coveted because it was accepted on all worlds without question. Only veterans and Sol's could hold one. The passport came with nothing else despite the length of Dasan's service. He would have to re-up to qualify for a pension. He had nothing that would buy him a future back in Groombridge or the hundreds of planets of the Confederation, only the privilege of voting every four years and the ability to travel unrestricted throughout in the Confederation. Without money or civilian skills that privilege had little meaning to him now.

Even the lure of adventure had long ago been ground out of Dasan.  There was little adventure patrolling god-forsaken systems. The day-to-day Spartan existence long ago crushed any romantic notions Dasan had in the beginning. Only the mind
-numbing routine of small ships on long uneventful voyages was left.

He stood outside Captain Lule
’s quarters, trying to make his tattered flight suit presentable.  It was now a pale, washed-out green, bleached from many long patrols; the only real color came from the numerous patches he had on his suit. He had become one of the patch guys, as they were called in the Legion. He had earned the patches for his assignments over the years he was a seasoned pilot even if he had never seen combat. Dasan straightened his flight suit as best he could before he entered, then strode through the door.

"Lieutenant, good to see you
," Captain Lule said, looking up from the work on her desk.

"Captain."

"We have received an emergency extract signal from Gaxola II.  It is a Van Fleet station. Evidently there is a mineable planet in the system. This station is in the first stages construction of the mining facilities and port for the operations.  The planet to be mined is a sister to the refinery planet. Operations have been ongoing for about a year. So this is a sizable operation with about ten thousand personnel plus families. We received their distress call at 0800 hours this date. It was an automatic alarm. We have been unable to contact them by any means. I want to launch your platoon for a flyby."

"Sensor sweep show anything?"

"Negative.  We're out of sensor range," the Captain said.

"How far are we out?"

"A little over an AU."

Dasan tried not to let the shock of that answer show. That was at the very edge of their fighters range.
This would stress the crystals and the pilots to their limits just to get there.

"We will not be able to make it back to this position for recovery."

"I understand. I intend to wring out every bit of power out of the Lyre I can and meet you well within your return envelope."

"Even so you're sending us in cold. We will have no idea what we are facing once we get there, system solar weather, aliens
, nothing."

"Yes I am," she said.

Dasan frowned. It wasn't like the Captain to throw them at any alarm they received. 

"Captain...."

"I know what you were about to say Dasan, but I've got a hunch on this one," Tamara said, her dark eyes intense.

"A hunch!  My people were just put down. I lost two to flight status because of the wake up. The rest of us are almost out on our feet. I'm going out with less than a platoon and no sensor readings. That's a damn long launch to Gaxola II. All on a hunch."

The Captain’s dark eyes clouded. "I didn't ask your opinion Lieutenant. Not another word. You launch within the hour."

Dasan held his tongue. He stiffened to attention and saluted smartly, turned on his heel and left.

Tamara Lule touched the bulkhead behind her desk. A viewing port opened.   The blacker than black space with the diamond points of light filled the port.  She did not know how those men and women went out there in those tiny
ships; they were little more than second skins.

Dasan was right, not everyone would come back from this one, even if they found nothing.  Tamara hoped she was not wasting those fine men and women needlessly. But Ixco and the consequences of not sending them kept rolling through her mind.

Dasan had looked twice his age.  He had not reacted well to the status wake up.  Tamara shivered and closed the port.   She turned to her desk; it glowed in expectation of her commands.  She had work to do.