Starship Desolation

C
opyright
© 2016 by Tripp Ellis

All rights reserved. Worldwide.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents, except for incidental references to public figures, products, or services, are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental, and not intended to refer to any living person or to disparage any company’s products or services.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, uploaded, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter devised, without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

T
here were
four minutes and thirty-two seconds left on the IED’s timer. Not a lot of time to find an escape shuttle and clear the blast radius. And this was going to be a helluva blast.

Lieutenant Commander Kurt Walker was in the missile bay of the
SSC Xenvelor
—a Saarkturian super-cruiser on its way to destroy New Earth with the ultimate weapon of mass destruction.

Twenty-four
Noxvis
bombs lined the missile bay.
Annihilators,
as they were called. The weapons converted and produced a greater fraction of their mass into explosive energy, when compared to a traditional nuclear device. Each missile was capable of annihilating an entire planet. But they were highly unstable. The weapon’s core was contained within an electromagnetic field, leaving it vulnerable to
accidental
detonations. At least, Walker hoped that was the case. The fate of mankind depended on it.

Unlike traditional nuclear weapons, which were nearly impossible to detonate accidentally, a simple IED could detonate the destructive force of a Noxvis bomb. Like all new technology, the Saarkturians hadn’t quite perfected the devices. It was like the early days of America’s nuclear program, when devices didn’t have rigorous safety controls. America was a distant memory now, and Earth had long been abandoned.

In a few minutes, the IED Walker had planted aboard the
Xenvelor
would explode, detonating the
Annihilator
. The resulting explosion would virtually destroy the entire Saarkturian fleet that was approaching New Earth.

The missile bay was easily the length of a football field. A cavernous room, four stories high. Rows upon rows of launch tubes lined the bulkheads. Additional rounds of ordinance waited to be automatically reloaded into the tubes.

The Noxvis bombs were the size of cold war era ICBMs, but a million times more powerful. Lying flat, the
Annihilators
were the length of a semi trailer truck.

4:15 left on the timer.

The bay filled with angry enemy warriors. Two platoons of Saarkturians stormed in, weapons ready. They were looking for Walker. One of the Saarkturian technicians must have tripped an alarm before he died.

Walker was crouched behind a missile, near the center isle. He was ready to make his last stand. The deck was littered with the bodies of the Saarkturian tech crew that he had killed. Blood had spattered the deck and dotted some of the surplus missiles. Bright crimson specks of blood contrasted the stark white rockets. Walker was going to have a lot of explaining to do, but he was going to let his rifle do all the talking.

He had almost forgotten he was dressed in full Saarkturian battle armor. Sleek black composite armor, helmet, and full face mask. It looked otherworldly, almost insect like. It took Walker a second to realize the armor was the reason the platoon hadn’t fired upon him as they entered the bay—he looked like one of their own.

At 6’4”, Walker was a foot shorter than the average Saarkturian. But it wasn’t enough of a difference to draw attention. The
Verge
was a pejorative term used by humans in reference to Saarkturians. They were on the verge of being human. Or, perhaps, humans were on the verge of being Saarkturian. We shared over 99% of the same DNA, and had the same basic anatomy. But they were bigger, stronger, smarter, and faster. They had pale translucent skin, black eyes, and sharp fangs. They had a history of being merciless.

Walker stood up, lowered his weapon, and casually stepped into the center isle of the bay. His heart was pounding in his chest. But he played it cool. In Saarkturese, he yelled out to the enemy platoon leader. “He’s headed aft, along the port side.”

The platoon leader paused for a moment. Was he going to buy it?

A moment later, the platoon leader signaled the troops. They flowed out of the missile bay as quickly as they had entered.

Walker breathed a sigh of relief. He was a little surprised that his ruse had worked. But he certainly wasn’t going to stick around. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out he had sent them on a wild goose chase.

Walker sprinted across the bay and exited into the corridor. He followed the passageway to the starboard side of the super-carrier and found an escape shuttle. Like lifeboats on a sea fairing vessel, there were several escape shuttles on both the port and starboard sides of the
SSC Xenvelor
. Enough for the entire crew to evacuate.

Walker mashed a button on the bulkhead, and the hatch to the shuttle slid open. A whoosh of air rushed out. He dashed inside and closed the hatch behind him. He ran forward and hopped into the pilot’s seat.

The shuttles were designed to power up and launch quickly. You could bypass the extensive list of preflight checks. At the press of a button, the shuttle would disengage and launch into space.

Walker strapped himself in, powered up, and glanced over the flight controls. The console illuminated. Everything was in Saarkturese. The alien language was an intricate series of glyphs. It shared nothing in common with the English language.

3:09 left on the IED’s timer.

Walker found the launch button amid the array of controls. All
Reapers
had extensive language training, and Walker was fully fluent in the alien language. Knowing how to speak and think like the enemy was the first step in defeating them.

He punched the button and the shuttle blasted into space. The thrust slammed Walker back against the seat. He throttled up and pointed the craft away from the alien armada. He didn’t care where he was going, as long it was far away from the fleet. There was no telling what the blast radius from 24 Noxvis bombs would be. And that was just from the
SSC Xenvelor
. There were hundreds of ships in this convoy of destruction, each with an array of ordinance. They had planned to annihilate every planet in the colony.

It didn’t take long for the
Xenvelor’s
massive guns to target and fire at the escaping shuttle. The staccato report of the cannons rumbled. Walker yanked on the controls and rolled the ship, spiraling away from the streaks of brilliant tracer fire.

Walker was putting distance between the shuttle and the fleet. An alarm sounded. The display flashed red. A heat-seeking missile was rocketing through space. The alarm’s tone went solid as the heat-seeker locked on to its target. In a few moments, the nasty little missile would catch up to Walker’s shuttle and blow it into bits.

W
alker deployed electronic counter measures
. Two ECMs jettisoned in a brilliant flash, replicating the emissions of an ion drive. They were virtually identical to the UPDF’s Mark 7 MOSS (Mobile Spaceship Simulator) decoys. The devices also attempted to jam the missiles targeting system. It was a two pronged approach.

The missile was moments away from impacting the shuttle. Walker cut the shuttle’s engines and coasted through space. It was a risky move, but it payed off. The rocket’s guidance system locked onto one of the ECMs and exploded in a blinding blast.

The explosion rattled the tiny ship, but didn’t cause any noticeable damage. Walker powered the shuttle’s drives up and streaked away from the fleet.

1:19 left on the IED’s timer.

Walker wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to put enough distance between himself and the
Xenvelor
before the detonation. But the massive ship was beginning to look tiny at this distance. Walker hoped that Slade and the others had gotten a safe distance away by now. He sure wanted to see her again someday. Maybe, if he was lucky, their paths would cross—hopefully under better circumstances. Maybe they’d get to finish what they started.

Another proximity alert sounded. Before he could glance to the display to see what the new threat was, several rounds of weapons fire rattled against the hull. It was that unnerving metallic ping that made all pilots pucker.

Projectiles tore through the bulkhead. Sparks showered. Precious oxygen vented into space through the punctured hull. It wouldn’t take long for the entire cabin to depressurize.

A Saarkturian
Phantom
was on his tail.

Walker clutched the controls and took evasive action. The Phantom blasted another round of fire. The brilliant glow of tracers streaked across the star field. Walker rolled the shuttle away, narrowly escaping the deadly bullets. He tried his best to lose the attacker. But the escape shuttle wasn’t designed for space combat. It was a bulky, lethargic craft that was designed to transport 12 to 20 people as a measure of last resort.

The Phantoms were heavily armored gunships. Not quite as fast and nimble as the Hornets, which were advanced tactical fighters, but still very capable in a dogfight. One pilot, one gunner. Two 30mm chain guns and and array of
Inferno
and
Cobra
rockets. A gunship like the Phantom could put a damper on anyone’s day.

Its primary function was as an anti-armor attack craft, providing close air support. It also had room to carry 8 troops into the field. The design had remained relatively the same since the first Verge War. Why fix something that wasn’t broken?

It was about to destroy Walker’s shuttle. Air was rushing from the hull and one of the engines was sputtering. The Phantom clung to his tail. The 30mm guns were about to tear Walker a new ass when the star field erupted in a scorching inferno.

The star field turned white from the blast. Bright enough to sear your retinas, even if you were looking in the opposite direction. Walker clenched his eyes shut and covered them. The blast ballooned out, engulfing the fleet, triggering secondary explosions. The detonation was so destructive, it was almost like an act of creation—akin to the big bang. Primordial.

It was, perhaps, the largest single expenditure of energy created by sentient life in the history of the universe. And it kept expanding.

The blast wave sent Walker, and the Phantom, tumbling into space. The shuttle shook and rattled. The thunderous rumble was deafening. The giant molten core of the explosion looked like a supernova. It consumed the entire Verge armada. It seemed like it was going to engulf the shuttle as well. The aft section of the hull began to glow, much like it would reentering an atmosphere. The thermal protection system was pushed to its limit. Walker was dripping with sweat—it was like an oven inside the tiny craft.

An automated Saarkturian voice spoke from the command console. It was a soothing, calm, feminine voice. “Warning. Exceeding maximum safe temperature.” It repeated over and over again.

Walker wrestled with the controls. It was like trying to tame a bucking bronco. The craft spun and twisted. The star field was a blur. It was enough to make even an experienced pilot dizzy.

After a few moments, Walker got the craft leveled out and nosed toward a nearby planet. It was desolate. It didn’t particularly look like the best place to land, but if he didn’t find somewhere to set down soon, he was going to run out of air inside the cabin. Even from space, the planet looked harsh and uninviting. Dry and barren and cracked. Primeval.

In the chaos, Walker had lost track of the Phantom. There was no telling if it had survived the blast. With any luck, it hadn’t.

Walker’s ship sputtered along on one engine. The blast had fried some of the electronics, and the control panel was in disarray. The central display screen was distorted with digital static. Gauges and indicators gave random readings. Everything went haywire. It was hard enough to fly by instruments when the system was in working order, now it was virtually impossible.

Walker plunged the shuttle into the planet’s upper atmosphere. The thermal protection system had already taken a beating—hopefully it would hold up through reentry. The bow of the ship began to radiate a searing orange glow. The reentry was violent. Turbulent air shook the craft, mercilessly. Walker plummeted through the clouds with his teeth rattling in his skull. Gripping the controls was like hanging on to a jackhammer.

With only one engine, and some steering thrusters damaged, it was difficult to control the angle of descent. The escape shuttle wasn’t exactly aerodynamic to begin with. It was closer to a flying brick.

Wind whistled through the bullet holes. The shuttle creaked and groaned as it plunged through the upper atmosphere. The automated alarm sounded again. “Warning. Exceeding maximum safe temperature.”