David Kantrowitz's Blog, page 10

Reckless Faith VI: Chapter 3

Spoiler Alert: This is a new entry into the Reckless Faith series. The prologue may be found here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2021/10/26/reckless-faith-vi-prologue/

Sylvania Technologies Corp was a massive complex, sprawled out over a 200-acre campus, with its almost two dozen buildings comprising more than six million square feet of space.  It was nestled in an isolated corner of the country’s southernmost state, surrounded by miles of protected woodland.  From the time that the sun went down to the next morning, only one man was there, an unarmed security guard named Samraa.  Three times during his shift, he would confirm his personal transponder was working, and embark on a circuitous patrol of the property.  Checking each major structure, while not walking particularly fast, took him almost two hours.  Samraa preferred this over spending his entire shift behind a desk.

It wasn’t just a break in an otherwise mundane job, but also an opportunity for him to marvel over all the projects that STC was working on.  Though the size and scope of its research and development had waned over the years, they still laid claim to the status of the largest and most innovative technology company on the planet.  And yet, their most profitable enterprise, that of spacecraft propulsion, had all but disappeared, having been completely eclipsed by the Residerian-Z’Sorth Conglomerate’s expansion into the core galaxy some twenty years earlier.  Fortunately, their research into spacecraft fuels, dry-cell batteries, and a score of other cutting-edge technology had kept them afloat.  Samraa found all of this fascinating.

His walking tour of the campus took him through empty buildings, office suites, manufacturing floors, and fully-stocked laboratories.  The complex also boasted a dining facility and temporary housing, though the latter hadn’t been used in years.  His favorite building was the one that housed STC’s plasma lab, not just for the mysterious nature of the work, but also the pretty colors.  Visible through windows from the hallways, several low-power experiments were run 24/7, making for an interesting and mesmerizing display.  It was also home to a device that was the most important stop on his tour: a hydrogen generator.  Though he didn’t understand exactly why, if a green LED indicator outside the generator room was ever to turn red, he was supposed to immediately call emergency services and evacuate the building.  This begged the question of why he was only required to check it thrice during an eleven-hour period, but that was beyond his pay grade.

Samraa was not a highly-educated man.  Initially, everything that was going on at STC was beyond his ken.  What he lacked in schooling, however, he made up with in enthusiasm.  Since landing this job one year earlier, he had made a reasonable attempt to understand most of the research going on there.  At the security desk near the main entrance to the complex, he had access to the ‘net, and had used whatever unclassified resources were available out there to learn as much as he could.  This allowed him to gain a basic understanding of the principles of some of the projects.  What he lacked was an opportunity to talk to any of the scientists or technicians working there, since it was the middle of the night.  As much as he would have loved to visit during the day on one of his days off, he wasn’t authorized to be there except while on shift.  So far, none of the day shift guards had offered to trade shifts with him, so it was still uncertain if he’d ever have the opportunity.  Of course, going back to school had crossed his mind, if he could find a way to afford the tuition.

That night, as usual, he had just spent a few minutes gazing at the blue-green jets of plasma flame visible in the Uranium Hexafluoride Zero-Emissions lab before moving on to the next building.  While crossing the short distance outside during the beautiful summer night, he noticed a ship passing low overhead.  It was of unfamiliar design, though it seemed to be a shuttle.  He could discern little other detail before it disappeared behind a building, presumably coming in for a landing in the main parking lot.  Samraa sighed.  He still had an hour left on his tour, and deviating from it would result in paperwork for him.  Corporate hadn’t notified him of a visit, which while theoretically possible, had not occurred during his tenure there.

He jogged back toward the main office building, choosing to cross through various courtyards rather than retrace the steps of his tour.  Fortunately for him, his gear was light, and he was in decent shape.  By the time he got back to the front of the complex, the ship had landed, and disembarked an armored vehicle.  He got into his office, where the intercom was located, at the same time as the vehicle stopped at the main gate.  It was immediately obvious to him that no matter how this conversation was about to go, the vehicle could easily smash through the gate.  He watched on the security camera as the driver lowered the window to speak.

“Welcome to Sylvania Technologies Corp, Officer Legasi speaking.”

“This is Major Janoek of the Rakhar Empire,” came the growling reply.  “This facility has been selected for inspection.”

Samraa had of course heard of the mysterious fleet that arrived in the solar system, claiming to be part of the Empire, Protectorate, or whatever.  He had not heard that they had arrived in orbit around Eniph, nor that they had begun any sort of operation there.  The fact that they were talking at that moment seemed to indicate that this was not part of a full-scale invasion, but something of a lesser degree.  Though it was also possible that this visit was their only foray onto Eniph, it seemed unlikely.  For now, Samraa could only think of one thing to say.

“Visiting hours are 0900 to 1530 local time.  If there’s anyone in particular you wish to speak with, I can leave a message for them.”

“Open the gate or we’ll blast it off its hinges.”

Since the truck was armed with a rather large-caliber gun in a turret on top, Samraa was obliged to do so.  The truck rolled up to the main entrance, and six Rakhar got out.  They were all wearing black combat armor, had sidearms, and each had a long, curved blade on their belt.  He unlocked the double doors from a switch at his desk, and they came inside.  He didn’t recognize their rank insignia, and had to assume that the first one to speak was Janoek.

“You will submit to an inspection of this facility,” he began.  “How much of it do you have access to?”

“Almost all of it,” replied Samraa.  “There are a few labs I can’t get into, but if you’re interested in the technology inside, I wouldn’t advise using force to enter as you might damage whatever’s in there.”

“We’re just here to verify what we think STC is working on.  If we suspect that something classified might be of use, then we’ll come back during the day.  For now, you will assist us with a walk-through.”

Samraa considered the irony of the situation, as he had often wished his employer would allow him to be armed.  And yet, now this sleepy corner of the forest had finally experienced a real incident, and a sidearm would be useless to him.  Even a plasma rifle probably wouldn’t help in a one versus six fight.  Not with these guys, anyway.  In any case, a weapon would have been for self-defense.  He didn’t have any loyalty to STC beyond doing his job well enough to keep it.

The next two hours went by with maddening slowness.  Samraa gave the six men a guided tour of the entire place, including the empty areas, and explained what little he knew about STC’s various projects.  Janoek took notes in his PDA, but asked very few questions.  They stopped briefly at most of the labs, and at some, the men scanned the area with their PDAs.  All of them seemed quite disinterested in the task, and he got the sense that they resented this assignment.  He also became increasingly confident that they wouldn’t kill him.  When the circuit brought them back to the lobby of the main building, Janoek called his superior and uploaded to him all the information he had collected.  A few minutes later, he got a call back, and they spoke again briefly.  Finally, Janoek turned to Samraa.

“You don’t really need to know this, but you’ve been cooperative so I’ll show you the courtesy.  The Rakhar Empire is claiming oversight of this facility.  Two of my men will stay here for now, and a full squad will arrive shortly.  The purpose of their presence is to ensure nothing is removed from the property.  Though employees will be allowed to continue to work normally, nothing of value will be permitted to be relocated.  Our troops will require access to your sanitary facilities, other than that they should stay out of your way.  The highest ranking soldier will be the liaison if STC wants to communicate with us.  Understood?”

“Yup.”

Without anything further, the men piled into their truck and exited through the main gate.  Samraa sighed, sent a text message to his boss, put his feet up on the desk, and went to sleep.

__________

Commander Tereis stood in the parking lot of the Percy Conservation Area on Secundus, not far from the Four Winds Complexium.  He was there with his boss, Captain Marcon, waiting for the arrival of a ship called the Reckless Faith.  It was an agreeable late summer morning, and the kind of setting better suited for a fishing pole and beer than what Marcon had in mind.  Seeking a new contract so soon after their exhausting assignment to the Swan wasn’t something he was looking forward to.  Enough time had passed since then for the crew to take some R&R, but it didn’t seem adequate, and as second-in-command of the Rastaban, Tereis had only been offered three days.  A glance at his savings account balance was the only reassurance he would ever have, working for Marcon.

Tereis squirmed underneath his concealable body armor as he began to sweat through his undershirt.  He gazed forlornly at the sky.  He was seriously considering retirement, and he could certainly afford it, but he’d been with Marcon for twenty years, and their partnership was more than just a business arrangement.  Tereis didn’t have the command acumen of his friend, so he was content to let the man captain as he saw fit, but he was better at the business side of things.  They worked well together.

With a rush of wind and a barely-perceptible hum, the Reckless Faith appeared over the trees.  Tereis had seen it before, during the assault on the Swan, and he was still shocked that such a small ship could have caused such big problems for so many people.  The ship found a clearing nearby, and came to a stop hovering about one meter above the ground.  The ramp opened, and three people emerged.  The first was a man wearing a green jacket, and appeared to be Terran (or Perdition, their intel told them the crew had referred to themselves as both).  The second was a shorter Primarian woman wearing a black leather jacket.  She had a Liberator pistol in a low-slung holster.  The third was a Terran woman, wearing a camouflage jacket and glasses.

“I’m John Scherer, commander of the Reckless Faith,” the man began, “and this is Reveki Kitsune, captain of the Fox.  You’ve already met Evangeline Adeler.”

“I have,” said Marcon.  “I’m Evan Marcon, captain of the Rastaban.  This is my first officer, Mathus Tereis.”

“You’re Umberian,” said John to Tereis.

“Yes,” he replied.  “I understand you and your crew are responsible for liberating Umber from the Zendreen.”

“I see your intel is very good.  Yes, we did, with a lot of help.  I wish I could tell you things are going great there, but we had to pursue the Zendreen to the core immediately after that.”

“I’d like to visit again someday.  Perhaps when I’m done with this line of work.  By the way, scans of your ship show it to be an Umberian Mark Seventeen.  I assume that’s not a coincidence?”

“No, it is essentially that, albeit with a completely different exterior design.”

“So, was it a collaboration with Umberian engineers or something?  Or did you stumble on the schematics somewhere?”

“In the last days of the invasion, Umber sent a probe with a repository of their technical data to our home planet.  During its long journey, its memory was badly fragmented.  If we knew what it was supposed to look like, we would have used that configuration.”

“It probably worked out for the best at the time, since there was a hefty bounty on Umberian ships.”

“Oh, we found that out pretty quick.  We had to mask our energy signature, too, until the conflict was resolved.”

“So why only send one ship?”

“That was another detail the probe couldn’t tell us.  We went there to investigate a cry for help, without knowing the true situation.  If not for the Vengeance virus created by Professor Talvan, we would have been useless.”

“Why get involved at all?” asked Marcon.  “Sheer curiosity?”

“Yes.  Curiosity, exploration, temerity… mostly temerity.”

“Well, I hope you were handsomely rewarded for your trouble.”

John gestured and smiled.  “We got to keep the ship!”

“More than that, so I’ve heard.  Which leads me to my next point.  The services of the Rastaban and her crew will command a hefty fee.  How do you intend to make payment?”

“We can offer you Palladium, we have a lot of that.”

“I beg your pardon?”

John put his hand on his earpiece for a moment.  “Uh, element 46.”

“That’s always easy to move.  We can agree on amount later.  Now, if I’m to be your employee, it’s not really any of my business, but I have to ask.  Why are you getting involved in the situation over in the Pegasus region?”

“We’ve proven to be useful for people in need.  Whether or not we can help in this case remains to be seen.  For now our only goal is to go to Eniph and evaluate the situation.”

“Very well.  Captain Kitsune, can I assume your motivations are the same?”

Vecky said, “Technically, I’m under their employ as well.  As a freelancer relatively new to the trade, I need to build up my reputation somehow.  Though, my crew and I are also unwaveringly loyal to the Faith, thanks to our past collaborations.”

“And the fact that we were shooting at each other just a few weeks ago doesn’t give either of you pause?”

“Your involvement in the Swan affair,” began John, “certainly made what we were trying to do more complicated.  Still, we weren’t exactly enemies either, which I’m guessing is why you were bold enough to approach Adeler and offer your services.”

“Yes.  If we had known you were simply trying to evacuate your own people, I would have ordered my men to back off.”

“All right, then.  If you’d like to come aboard, we can discuss payment over drinks in our galley.”

“That sounds perfect,” said Tereis.

Reckless Faith VI: Chapter 2

Spoiler alert: This is a new entry in the Reckless Faith series. The prologue may be found here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2021/10/26/reckless-faith-vi-prologue/

It was after dark at the Four Winds Complexium on Secundus, and the towering structure was lit up like a beacon, making a spectacular vista for those on the bridge of the Reckless Faith.  Milena was at the controls, concentrating on her approach to one of the landing pads on the exterior of the building, allowing John, Ari, Ray, Evangeline, and Vecky to gawk at its beauty.  Each of the four towers of the Complexium, which seemed to lean into each other and converge at the top, was lit with a different primary color.  It was an effect not seen by Eva and Vecky last time they were there, having arrived during daytime.  Vecky’s own ship, the Fox, remained in orbit, but the young captain didn’t want to miss this trip, nor the unusual item the crew of the Faith had purchased.

The company they wanted to visit wasn’t in the towers proper, but in a separate structure nearby.  It was of more recent construction, having been built as overflow for the many businesses that wanted to be located at the extremely popular Complexium.  Milly effortlessly set the Faith down on the pad assigned to them, and locked down the controls.  That done, they exited the bridge and went down the stairs to the galley.  Almost everyone else was waiting there, eager to set foot on a new world for the first time.  Only Cane and Talyn weren’t present, having volunteered to stay on the Fox.

The group headed down another flight of stairs to the cargo bay, and disembarked down the ramp.  They stood in awe of the building looming above them, and breathed in the fresh air.  It was already known who would be doing what.  John, Ray, Ari, Richter, and Vecky would be heading to the company to make their purchase, while Eva, Dana, Miriam, Devonai, Milly, and Penrose would take in everything else that the Complexium had to offer, whether it be food, alcohol, or trinkets.

“Okay, everyone,” began John.  “Remember the rally points, and nobody wanders off alone.  Time hack for return to the ship is 1700 Sierra.  If you’re armed, go easy on the booze.  Keep your heads on a swivel.”

There were no objections, so the groups said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.  John’s group walked around the perimeter of the towers until they got to the newer section, and entered from the side where it was connected to the larger building.  The interior was of an atrium style, open in the center up to the ceiling three stories above.  Business flanked the central walkway, and moving sidewalks similar to an airport offered a slightly faster way to traverse it.  As they looked for the location they wanted, it became obvious that this section of the Complexium was mostly occupied by corporate offices, offering fewer retail establishments.  As a result, it was almost deserted.  After a few minutes they found what they were looking for, and went inside.

The lobby was stark white, bright, and spotless.  An employee, a native Secundian female wearing a tailored suit, sat behind a desk.  She smiled at her visitors.

“Welcome to Verisimilitude Android Designs,” she said.

“Thanks,” began John.  “We’re picking up an order for Temerity, LLC.”

“Ah yes, our very first Perditian design.”  She looked at the console on her desk.  “I see your balance is paid in full.  I’ll have the staff bring it out.  Please have a seat.”

The group availed themselves of faux leather chairs nearby.  It wasn’t that long to wait, and they barely had time to strike up a conversation before a door to the back opened up.  A Z’Sorth wearing a lab coat entered, followed by a humanoid female, garbed in a white robe.  Everyone but Vecky gasped at the sight, and stood up.  The woman stared at them vacantly, but her appearance was unmistakable.  Ray was the first to draw closer.

“Oh my god,” he breathed.  “She’s perfect.”

“We take pride in our work,” said the Z’Sorth slowly, his cadence of speech typical for his species.  “Your design specifications for the appearance were easy, for its operating system, not so much.”

“Is it… aware of us?” asked John.

“It’s in autonomous mode.  You can give it simple commands, that’s about it.  It was difficult for us to program in even a simple OS given your design parameters, but hopefully we figured it out.”

“It remains to be seen if it’s compatible with the orb configuration,” said Ari.

“If not, come back and we’ll load it with our standard software.”

“Maybe,” said Richter.  “It would defeat the purpose of having her look exactly like Christie.  Though we did pay an awful lot of money for it.”

Ray began to cry, and had to step away.  “I always liked this idea, but now it’s really hitting home.  I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand the disappointment if it doesn’t work as a vessel for Christie.”

The receptionist gestured at John, and pulled him off to the side.

“I hope there hasn’t been a misunderstanding,” she said quietly.  “This is a combat model, not a pleasure model.”

“No, that’s what we wanted, thank you.  My associate isn’t looking to, um, be intimate with it.”

“Oh, thank goodness, then.”

“Do you have anything else for her to wear?” asked Ray.  “We have to walk a bit of a way back to our ship.”

“We have some coveralls and shoes if you’d like.”

“That would be preferable.”

The Z’Sorth returned to the back room, and everyone continued to marvel at the android.  Though it wasn’t acknowledging their presence, its chest rose and fell with the rhythm of breath.  Whispering an apology, Ray got as close as he could without knocking it over.

“Her hair, eye color, pores, even that little scar on her cheek.  They got all of it.  It’s incredible.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” said Ari.

The Z’Sorth returned with the requested garments, and told the android to put them on.  To everyone’s embarrassment, it did so, sparing no modesty.  However, it was revealed that it was androgynous.  Ray helped it make some minor adjustments to the clothing.  They thanked the employees, and headed out onto the concourse.  The android followed them like a zombie.

“This is unsettling,” said Ray.

“I’m surprised you didn’t request a model with a few curves,” said Ari.

“It was Christie’s decision.  To her, it seemed irrelevant.”

Soon, the group arrived back at the Faith.  Christie’s voice could be heard as soon as they set foot on the ship.

“Astonishing,” she said.  “Obviously they were able to make good use of the data we provided.  It’s like looking into a mirror.”

“I’m glad you like it,” replied John.

They proceeded to the galley, where Ray instructed the android to lie on the couch.

Vecky said, “So now she just transfers her consciousness into it?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Christie said.  “First I’m going to do a series of scans to see if VAD lived up to their expectations.  Then, I’m going to synthesize another orb, scaled down to fit inside the cranium.  It won’t have the same storage capacity as our standard-sized orb, but it should be enough for me to function like a normal human.  Then, I’ll be able to access it and make an initial attempt at a connection.  If that works, then I’ll spend a few days making sure everything works properly.  Ideally, as long as I’m on board the Faith, I’ll be able to freely decide whether I’d rather be in the ship’s orb or in its orb.”

“But I thought the whole point was to be able to go on missions with us.”

“Yes, it still is.  And I’ll have a backup system in place in case the android gets critically damaged or destroyed while separated from the Faith.  I probably won’t remember anything, though.”

“How far can you get from the ship before you’re on your own?”

“I don’t know.  We’ll find out.”

Ray said, “All right, Christie, we’ll let you get to work.  Please be careful poking around in there.”

“I will.”

John went behind the bar and began to fix himself a glass of bourbon.  “Anybody up for a round of poker?  We’ve still got two hours before everyone else is due back.”

It was a good suggestion, and the others grabbed themselves their own drinks before gathering around the table.  John picked up a well-worn deck of cards and began to shuffle them.

“Texas Hold ‘Em?” asked Richter.

“As usual.”

“I’m still a little fuzzy on the rules,” said Vecky.

“Don’t worry, we can go over them again.”

Vecky’s PDA began to beep at her, so she pulled it out of her pocket.  “The Fox is calling me.”

Cane’s voice filled the room.  “Captain, it’s Venator.  Talyn and I just read a report on the ‘net that will be of interest to everyone.”

“Can you summarize it for us?”

“Sure.  In addition to the refugee ships from Sadal Biham, reports are coming in about a ship from Eniph arriving at Matesia.  The Eniphites have made a formal request to the Matesian government to send ships back to defend against a possible invasion force that arrived a few days ago.”

“More Rakhar imperial wannabees?” asked Richter.

“That information isn’t in the report, but the scenario is playing out the same way as it did at Sadal Biham.  A fleet of at least a hundred ships, of varying configurations, shows up on the edge of the solar system.  Considering the proximity of these stars to each other, one might assume it is more Rakhar.”

“Eniph is closer to us than Sadal Biham, right?” asked Vecky.

“Yes, it’s (number) light-years out, or about (number) days transit time at the Fox’s top speed.”

John said, “Then once Christie’s available again, we might as well check out Eniph first.  Any word about Matesia’s response?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay.  If Christie is satisfied with the android by morning, then we’ll head out.”

“Understood.  How does it look?”

Ray said, “As long as it’s wearing clothes, you can’t tell them apart, even from an inch away.”

“Neat.  Talk to you later, then.”

Cane terminated the transmission, and the others went back to their game.  Ten minutes later, everyone was startled when the android sat up.  Ray went over and sat next to it on the couch.

“Christie?” he asked.

“It’s me,” came the reply.

“How is it?”

The android looked around the room.  “It’s so… quiet in here.  No, quiet isn’t the right word.  It’s peaceful.  There’s so much less stimuli.  And yet at the same time, I feel… claustrophobic.  It’s hard to describe.”

“That makes sense,” said John.  “You’ve been omniscient for so long, at least on the ship.  The idea was to limit the android to the five senses, is that what you’re doing?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, yes.  It just feels weird.  My field of vision is limited.  I can’t feel the pulse of the ship.  My hearing seems to be normal.  I don’t recognize any of the smells in here.”

Ray took her hand in his.  She turned to look at him.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

“Yes.  That feels normal, too.  Though it’s hard to remember.”

“Are you completely disconnected from the ship?”

“No.  In my mind there’s something like a thread floating in space.  I can’t see it, but I know it’s there.  A few minutes ago, I practiced using that form of connection to return my consciousness to the ship, and it seemed to work fine.  It’s reassuring, since I’m finding this experience to be mildly terrifying.”

“If it’s too much for you, go back.  You don’t have to master this form immediately.”

“I know.  I just wanted to feel human again.”

Christie shakily rose to her feet.  Ray joined her, and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Easy there.”

“I got it.  Man, it’s like waking up from anesthesia.  I want to be able to move without thinking about it, you know?  When I do something on the ship, no matter how simple, I still have to visualize the path for a microsecond.  The android’s BIOS is supposed to do that for me, once we learn from each other how.”

John said, “You have plenty of time to figure it out.  Take it slow.  Walk around the galley, observe the game for a while.”

“I have a better idea.  Ray, help me get to the cargo hold, please.  I want to put on my own clothes.”

__________

Evangeline stood on a balcony, overlooking the city that bordered the Four Winds Complexium.  She’d had a little bit too much wine while at dinner with her friends, and hoped that some fresh air would help clear her head.  She and her companions had wandered around the towers for an hour or so before deciding to have dinner at the West Wind Bistro, the same restaurant where she had first met Vecky and Cane.  Milly and Penrose were particularly enjoying the experience, it being their first opportunity to see a wide variety of alien species in a peaceful environment.  Eva and Devonai had also attempted to engage a few shopkeepers in conversation about any refugees fleeing from a new Rakhar threat, but since none had arrived on Secundus, there was little for them to learn.

They still had half an hour before they were due back at the Faith, so Eva took the opportunity to stare at the stars, the glittering ships in orbit and in flight, and the lights of the city.  It had a bucolic, yet cosmopolitan feel to it that appealed to her, despite the fact that not long ago she almost got killed by robbers at the very same Complexium.  If she were to mind her own business, she could see herself retiring somewhere nearby someday.

After getting lost in her thoughts, she became aware of the presence of someone else with her on the balcony.  About ten feet away, looking over the edge of the Zephyrus tower, was a Rakhar.  He nodded at her, and she returned the gesture.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Certainly is,” she replied.

Eva took stock of the man.  He was wearing dark pants, boots, and what looked to her like a gray barn jacket.  He pulled out a pipe and lit it, the unmistakable aroma of tobacco filling the air seconds later.

“Evangeline Adeler of the Fox,” he said flatly.

Eva’s right hand instinctively moved to her hip, resting at the hem of her jacket.  Perhaps for her, a blissful retirement on Secundus was impossible.

“And you are?”

“Suffice it to say, someone equally interested in the possible rise of interlopers claiming to be a new Rakhar empire.”

“Interlopers?  I take it such a thing doesn’t meet with your approval?”

“Interlopers they are, but my opinion is irrelevant.  What I see is a business opportunity.”

“So you’re a merc.  What makes you think we either need or can afford your services?”

“I don’t know if you do, because I don’t know what your intentions are.  I do know two ships isn’t of much use other than to observe.  As for payment, the Reckless Faith has gained quite a reputation for big spending.  Whether that be as a stipend from Umber or another source, it’s certainly worth asking.”

“I suppose it’s useless asking you where you get your information about us.”

“You people talk too much.”

“Okay.  Assuming we’re interested, what do you have to offer?”

“A well-armed ship, and almost a hundred highly-trained and capable troops.”

Eva raised an eyebrow.  “That sounds like a good setup if you wanted to raid, say, the Swan asteroid.”

“Mm hmm,” he said, and puffed on his pipe as he stared at the city.

“Fine, give me your contact info.  I’ll let my crewmates know you’re for hire.  I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much.”

The man passed over a card.  On it was written a name and number in a language she couldn’t read.  Despite this, she didn’t inquire further, and put the card in her pocket.

“If you’re going to call, you’ll need a SRC transceiver capable of encryption level five.  Which, by the way, you should be using all the time.”

“Good to know.”

The man tapped out his pipe, sending a small shower of flaming embers down the side of the tower.  He nodded again, and walked back toward the concourse.

Reckless Faith VI, Chapter One

Spoiler alert: This is a new entry in the Reckless Faith series. The prologue may be found here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2021/10/26/reckless-faith-vi-prologue/

It was a glorious day on Eniph, and President Fomal Feras was almost completely terrified.  It was inauguration day, certainly a reason to be nervous for any victorious candidate, but for him, having been elected to president of the entire planet, it was that much more daunting.  Especially so, since his home country, Ossekey, was nothing more than a city-state several square miles in size.

Though Feras has already been sworn in, and the inauguration ceremony was just a formality, each of Eniph’s 53 countries had sent several delegates and an entourage, each garbed in their best formal wear.  Still, the crowd gathered at Ossekey’s central stadium numbered less than a thousand, hardly filling a twentieth of the space that the stadium could hold.  Such was the tradition of most countries there; any celebration of an election was tempered by the grave responsibility of leadership.  United for the first time under a single planetary government, the seriousness of the role was magnified.

Feras had prepared a five-minute speech.  He was rue to drone on about political matters for very long, having been subjected to the same torture on too many occasions.  Though some of the spectators might rankle about journeying halfway around the world for such a short ceremony, they could make up for it by visiting one of Ossekey’s legendary restaurants or pubs afterward.  If left up to him, he would have dispensed with the ceremony altogether.  A hush fell over the crowd as he approached the podium, and he was glad to finally get this over with.  He cleared his throat, and set his PDA with his speech displayed down on the podium.

“Gentlemen, ladies, gathered dignitaries, and honored guests…”

He was interrupted by his administrative assistant, a Kau’Rii by the name of Colmin, rushing across the stage.  The younger man had a look of panic in his eyes, and gestured to Feras that he wanted to whisper into his ear.  Embarrassed by the intrusion, but knowing Colmin must have had a good reason, he pushed the microphone away and bent over to listen.

“Sir,” he began in hushed tones, “we’ve just received an urgent alert from the Solar Defense Force.  A huge fleet of unidentified ships has just been spotted entering the system at the heliopause.  They are holding position, but not responding to communications.”

“This couldn’t have waited fifteen minutes?”

“General Ibex wanted you to know right away, because of the size of the fleet.  If they’re hostile, we’re outnumbered five to one.”

Out in the crowd, leaders were starting to respond to either calls on their PDAs, or having murmured conversations with their aides.  Something like this couldn’t be ignored by them, even under a united government.  Feras nodded at Colmin.

“Tell Ibex to send fast ships to our nearest neighbors.  We may not have much to tell them, but they need to be dispatched immediately in case the fleet sets up a blockade.”

“Those were her thoughts as well.”

The next half-hour went by in a blur.  Feras made apologies to the audience, invited those who were able to stay for the reception, was whisked away by his security team to the nearest spaceport, and taken by atmo-jumper to Eniph Station in orbit.  The headquarters of the SDF was located there, as well as General Ibex.  Feras had been off-world before, but never to the station.  It was utilitarian in design, with two large cylindrical sections connected by pylons, and bristling with solar panels all around.  Unseen from the outside were its various defensive weapons.  Constructed with the cooperation of a dozen of Eniph’s wealthiest countries, it now belonged to all of them.

While both of the cylindrical habitats used to contain commercial passenger and freight services, the formation of the new global government coincided with the bankruptcy of one such company, giving the SDF an opportunity to move their HQ to the station.  It was with this recently-vacated section that the A-J docked, and a few minutes later, Feras found himself in the control center.  The room, which commanded excellent views of the planet, smelled of plastic and polystyrene packing material, and several computer stations had yet to be completed.  A Heads-Up Display had been installed over the largest window, and a map of the solar system was on it.  Several supernumeraries in their dark blue uniforms milled about.  General Ibex was easy to identify, not just by her rank, but also her tall, lanky build.  She gave Feras a fleeting smile, and ushered him into her office.

“Mister President, welcome,” she began.  “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

“Me, too.”

She offered him a seat across from her desk, and he took it.

“After your approval earlier, I’ve dispatched our fastest scout ships to Primus, Matesia, Hayaku, and Sadal Biham.  However, as you know, none of them could possibly send help in time to prevent a war, if that’s what this mystery fleet has in mind.  And since the new planetary government hasn’t yet established diplomatic relations with any of those systems, we can’t be sure they’ll send help at all.”

“Then let’s hope this fleet isn’t bellicose.  What do we know about it so far?”

Ibex gestured toward her wall-mounted monitor.  “Here are the positions of the ships as reported by our scouts and long-range sensors.  We’re reading ninety-seven vessels of various sizes and configurations.  In fact, it seems to be a rather rag-tag mix of things, indicating that this is perhaps a fleet of refugees rather than an invasion force.  Makes and models we can identify are anything from new ResZor-Con multipurpose frigates to older Hayakuvian transports and single-seat fighters.  Anybody can buy them on the open market.”

“What about weaponry?”

“The fighters are armed, we’re not sure with what.  The larger ships could be armed to the teeth, but we’d have to get closer to read anything.  So far they’re holding at 100 AU, silently.”

“Then I guess we’re going to have to wait until they decide to answer our hails.”

“Aye.  As our new Commander-in-Chief, would you like to form a plan, sir?”

“I’m not much of a military tactician, so I’ll have to defer to your experience.  But it seems that unless they’re woefully under-armed, we stand no chance of repelling a force of that size.”

“Correct.  Here are my suggestions.  We should begin the evacuation of our colonies immediately, even if we don’t get everybody off in time.  We withdraw to Eniph and prepare to attempt to repel a ground invasion.  That’s the only good news; even if all of the larger ships are filled with troops, they won’t be able to take the planet by force.  Of course, an orbital bombardment directed at our infrastructure could make a surrender inevitable on a long enough timeline.”

“Are we really that reliant on the local community for survival?”

“Survival, no, but if we lose our power stations, spaceports, pipelines, and whatnot, they could blast us back to the stone age.  Anyway, let’s not catastrophize too much right now.  An orbital standoff would buy time for any allies we may have to offer help.  For now, I recommend you return to the surface and begin preparations.  I’ll stay here for now, but we’ll be ready to evacuate the station.  This place isn’t built for combat.”

Ibex ushered Feras back into the control room.  A console was beeping, and the person manning it looked over his shoulder at Ibex.

“General, we’re receiving a message from one of the ships,” he said.

“Put it on the screen, major.”

The image of a Rakhar appeared before them.  He was older, as evidenced by streaks of white through his black fur, and wore an elaborate uniform of royal blue with red piping around the shoulders.  On his lapels were clusters of four stars, and while the configuration was unfamiliar to Ibex and Feras, his rank was obvious.

“This is General Monterrach of the Rakhar Empire,” he began.  “I wish to speak with the president of Sylvania.”

Ibex scoffed.  “Rakhar Empire?”

“Is this guy crazy?” muttered Feras.

“I guess we’re about to find out.  Major, you can put us through.  President, it’s your time to shine.”

The other officer gave Feras a thumbs-up, so he looked at the HUD and spoke.

“This is President Fomal Feras of Eniph.  We are united under a planetary government.  I speak for the people of Sylvania and all citizens of Eniph.”

Monterrach nodded.  “Very well.  Your system is now under the control of the Rakhar Empire.  You will immediately turn over control to us your fleet, planetary defenses, and communications systems, and allow any vessel flying our colors unobstructed access to any planet and its resources, any colonized moon, orbital station, and unmanned satellite.  Resistance will be met with swift reprisal, up to and including total destruction as we see fit for the opposition.”

“I understand.  It will take some time to convince all of our member states to cooperate.”

“Any lack of cooperation would be unwise.  In the interest of maintaining peace, you have four hours.  After that time, any ship found to have weapons systems in a powered-up state will be assumed to be a threat and dealt with accordingly.  Monterrach out.”

The image disappeared from the HUD.  Feras turned to Ibex, stunned.

“Did he mean the Protectorate?  It’s impossible that the Rakhar Empire could have reformed without our knowledge,” he said.

Ibex shrugged.  “Very improbable, but not impossible.  The Rakhar are good at keeping secrets when it benefits them.  But not even a hint of some sort of movement forming?  I find it hard to believe that Eniph simply has the bad luck of being their first target.  Though, stranger things have happened.  Anyway, I understand why you didn’t argue with Monterrach.  They know we’re going to stall for time regardless of any posturing.”

“And any squabbling between our member countries isn’t going to change anything, even if former world powers like Sylvania decide to go to war on their own.  Our best bet is going to convince our neighbors of an existential threat, and get them to fight on our behalf.  I honestly don’t see any way to prevent surrender before that happens.”

“I agree, but there’s a lot that we can do right now to help ourselves out even with a surrender looming, most of which will require the full cooperation of our members.  It’s your job to convince them of that.”

Feras sighed, and sat down in the nearest chair.  “Then by all means, tell me.”

“The first suggestion I have is something you can unilaterally do, as Commander-in-Chief.  We should immediately move our most capable warships to a random position five to ten light-years outside of the system, away from normal trade routes.  Unless the enemy’s scanners are far more advanced than ours, they haven’t had a chance to assess our defenses yet.  Why let them confirm what they think they already know?  Even if we can’t put up a fight, why let those ships be commandeered when we can hide them?”

“Fine, do it.”

“Yes sir.  Major, you heard me, make it happen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the reply.

Feras said, “I’m not sure about any of our other neighbors, but if I recall correctly, Matesia is on good terms with the Protectorate.”

Ibex nodded.  “That’s my understanding as well.  They’re trading partners, though as far as I know, the Protectorate doesn’t try to exert any influence over them.”

“Which ship was sent to that system?”

“The Algenib.  I can guess what you’re getting at.  I’ll contact the Algenib and see if they can get into contact with the Protectorate.  They may have something to say about a rogue group claiming to be a new empire.”

“Who knows?  Peace between their clans has always been tenuous.”

“Major, call up an image of Monterrach and see if you can identify some of the medals or devices on his uniform.”

“I’ve already started,” the junior officer replied.  “I got a hit on the patch on his left shoulder, it matches up to clan Black Talon.”

“Does that mean anything to you, Mister President?”

Feras shrugged.  “Not really.”

“Then we’ve got our research cut out for us.  That info may prove useful.  Sir, you should get back planet-side, and handle things from there.”

Sighing, Feras stood up and crossed to the window.  He gazed at the surface of his home.

“Is it too soon to resign?”

Coming Soon: Reckless Faith for Audible

I’m pleased to announce that an audio book version of Reckless Faith is in the works, due to be out next February.

Reckless Faith VI, Prologue

This is the beginning of the 6th book in the Reckless Faith Series.

September 30, 2029

It was a beautiful early fall day on Boston Common.  Other than fading contrails catching the last of the sunlight of the day, the sky was clear and the air crisp.  John Scherer, Arianna Ferro, and Seth Aldebaran were walking along Beacon Street, and though the first two were overcome with nostalgia, neither had yet to admit it.  Their purpose in visiting wasn’t just to reminisce; they had business in the city.  Their ship was parked next to Frog Pond nearby, easily hidden from both human sight and electronic detection.  They had arrived early so Ari could walk past her old apartment on Marlborough Street, and now they were headed to Omega Group’s headquarters on the corner of Beacon and Park.

Due to the effects of time dilation through their many journeys through the galaxy, twenty-five years had passed on Earth, while John and Ari had only experienced a little less than one year in their own lives.  During their flyover of the city on the way in, they had spotted six or seven new skyscrapers; other than that, nothing much appeared to have changed.  After walking in silence for fifteen minutes, John was the first to speak.

“You’re sure about this, Seth?”

“As sure as I am the last time you asked me, John.”

“We’ll miss you,” began Ari, “but we all understand your decision.”

The trio arrived at the desired building, and took the elevator to the fourth floor.  Lauren Hill was there to wave them through security, and led them to her corner office overlooking the capitol building.  Once everyone was seated, she spoke.

“So this is the Aldebaran I’ve heard so much about.”

John raised an eyebrow.  “Have you?”

“I’m joking.  I only know what you told me over the phone.  Sir, it’s nice to meet a bona fide extraterrestrial that isn’t a corpse.”

“You get used to it,” Seth replied.

“I suppose you do.  So, Mister Aldebaran, you’ve decided to volunteer for our nascent space program.  Can you expand on your background and experience a bit?  Mister Scherer just told me that you’re highly qualified.”

“Sure, I’ll give you the dollar tour version.  I was born on Umber and became an officer in their military.  I volunteered for a project meant to see if the essence of a person’s mind could be copied and transformed into an artificial intelligence entity.  The project was a partial success, and my consciousness was implanted into a device we called the Quasi-Actualized Intraspace Quantum Grid, a portable translucent orb about the size of a volleyball.  Unfortunately, my body was left with a version of me that was what you would call a sociopath, who had a very successful career as a space pirate.  But that’s a story for another time.  As Seth, the orb entity, I was Umber’s last hope for freedom after Umber was invaded by an insectoid race called the Zendreen.  A long-range probe had been constructed, and Seth was loaded into it with the last repository of Umber’s best technological secrets.  Its mission: travel to Earth, where neptunium-238 was known to exist, convince humanity to build a fleet of warships, and return to liberate Umber.

“I’m familiar with what happened next.”

“Good.  So all that being said, I’m the most qualified person in the galaxy to help you build your own ships.  Well, except for Christie Tolliver, and she’s not going anywhere.”

“We’ll see, I suppose.  And why have you decided to part ways with the Reckless Faith?”

“I was seriously wounded during our last battle and nearly died.  Despite the best efforts of our ship’s surgeon, I’ve been left with permanent internal injuries.  My space-faring days are over, except maybe as a tourist.  When John told me the CIA’s Omega Group was desperate for FTL technology, and we’d decide to help, it seemed like a good project for me.”

“I wouldn’t say desperate, but based on what we know about the galaxy, Earth should probably get better planetary defenses sooner than later.”

John said, “I’m sure Seth will have plenty of time to get you caught up on his adventures.  We also have a progress report for you regarding our search for the missing neptunium here on Earth.  Thanks to the information you graciously shared with us, we investigated the two sites that weren’t thousands of feet underwater.  At the first we found nothing, but at the second we found what the Army missed all those decades ago.  Fifteen kilograms of neptunium-238.”

“That’s fantastic!”

“I wouldn’t get too excited.  The cold fusion engine design used on the Reckless Faith requires sixty kilograms.  Though Seth believes he may be able to modify the existing design, it will doubtlessly have a much lower top speed and maximum sustained range.  For Earth’s purposes, you’d be much better off figuring out how to replicate the uranium hexafluoride engine recovered from the Rakhar ship, and using the neptunium to arm your new fleet, as only a few grams of neptunium are required to power a plasma cannon.  The good news is that Captain Kitsune has agreed to share the engine design of the Fox as well, though it’s anybody’s guess if Seth and your top minds will be able to make use of it.”

“I see.  Any idea of how fast a modified design would be?”

Seth said, “Probably around 900 c.  Same for the Fox’s engine, if we can do it.”

John said, “That puts most of the quadrant well within your striking distance.  However, I wouldn’t venture out too far until Earth’s fleet is rather sizeable, lest you attract the wrong kind of attention.  Is it the US government’s plan to continue to keep all of this a secret?”

Lauren nodded.  “For now.  Even if we’re able to build a single ship, I doubt we’d give the credit to aliens.  Just, ‘hey, NASA’s JPL invented FTL, yay us’.”

“That’s your prerogative.  There was a lot of debate among our crews as to whether or not Earth is ready to join the galactic community.  Ultimately we decided that it would be awfully hypocritical of us not to share what we have.  Our alien contingent is pretty much neutral on the idea.  As I’ve mentioned before, Earth doesn’t pose a threat to any civilization that isn’t already belligerent to everyone.”

“Come again?”

“I mean, historically, there have been any number of space-faring races that would vaporize you just for existing.”

“Ah.”

“Speaking of the Rakhar ship,” began Ari, “have you figured out how to operate it yet?”

“No, our people haven’t made much headway with the language loaded into the OS.”

“I can help with that,” replied Seth.  “Your best astronaut could be tearing around the solar system by tomorrow, if you like.”

Lauren smiled.  “My superiors will be pleased.  Mister Aldebaran, when will you be ready to come under our employ?”

“I’m ready now.  I’ve already said my goodbyes to my crew.  This backpack has everything I chose to take with me from my room.  I’ll just need a place to stay for tonight.”

“That won’t be a problem.  Now, as far as the schematics…”

Seth pulled a flash drive from his pocket.  “This drive has everything you need.  But most of it will be useless to you without me to help you interpret it.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised it’s not in English.”

“No, and it would have taken me months to transcribe it.  Even if it was, you’d still need me to explain how many things work.  Imagine trying to build a battleship if all you have are blueprints, and the last thing you built was a canoe.  Sorry, you’re stuck with me.”

“There is one last thing,” began John.  “We’ve taken the liberty of placing a Superluminal Relativistic Compensator transceiver on the roof of this building.  It only weighs eighty pounds, so you can put it wherever you want.  With it, you’ll be able to communicate with us anywhere in the quadrant in real time.  Seth has our frequency.  If you run into trouble, give us a call.  Unless we decide to run off to the Large Magellanic Cloud again, we can be back here in a few days.  Oh, and it’s compatible with the transceiver on the Rakhar ship, too.”

Lauren stood up.  “Thanks in advance, assuming we get anywhere.  Where are you off to next?”

“There are rumors of trouble afoot near Kitsune’s home planet.  While we don’t consider ourselves the galaxy police, we’re protective of our allies.  Hopefully it turns out to be nothing.  Either way, it’s an opportunity to explore, which is never a waste of time.”

The trio stood up and shook hands with Lauren.  Ari turned to Seth.

“This is it, then,” she said.

John and Ari took turns hugging Seth.

“I’m sure I’ll see you both again,” he said.

John smiled.  “You can count on it.”

Logan’s Legionnaires, Chapter One

Spoiler alert: This is the sequel to the first novel in the series, Dun Ringill.  The prologue may be found here.

 

“Okay, folks, that’s enough for one day.”

On the road from Romanby to Abernathy, Siobhan and the rest of the work crew breathed a sigh of relief. The sun was low in the western sky, and another day of grueling physical labor was at last at an end. All that was left for her to do was jump on the truck, ride back to Romanby, and tend to herself before crawling gratefully into bed.

Despite the high technology that had settled Skye, and the return of the same as part of the disaster recovery effort, the best that the Planetary Union could provide for this project was an excavator and a utility truck. Restoring the power lines between Romanby and Abernathy was being done the old-fashioned way for now, with poles, overhead lines, and transformers. Digging up the existing underground transfer conduits to find out what was wrong with them would have to happen later, when more resources would be available for smaller towns like these.

In the meantime, Abernathy, which had been abandoned for five years, desperately needed the power from Romanby’s nuclear plant, which made the difficult project worth it. In the two weeks since the PU had provided the equipment, Siobhan and her crew had managed to run one mile worth of line, or about 20% of the total distance. Though anything she did towards rebuilding the planet was satisfying, the nature of this work had her regretting volunteering for it in the first place. However, her skills as a gunsmith and her inventory of firearms for sale were hardly in demand at the moment.

Siobhan rummaged around in her rucksack and retrieved her second-to-last canteen. She drained it, then picked up her pack. She had rested it against a boulder earlier, but only now noticed that there was a message written on the stone in permanent marker. ‘WARNING: TEMPORAL ANOMALY – DO NOT ENTER CIRCLE.’ She smiled wistfully, realizing that this was the spot of one of the anomalies that she and Carthage had found over three months ago, at the beginning of her long journey to save the planet.

The foreman climbed into the cab of the truck, and Siobhan and the rest of the crew clambered into the open bed of the cargo area. It was a two-minute ride back to Romanby, making their work so far seem pathetic despite their limitations. The wind felt fantastic on her face, and strands of hair that had escaped from her rapidly failing pony tail whipped around her ears. As they approached town, a spacecraft could be seen parked near Farnham’s barn. Ships were a common sight these days, but they usually landed in a more central location. She lost sight of it as the truck entered the town proper and was obscured by buildings, but her hopes were already high.

The truck dropped everyone off in the town square. Despite her aching muscles, Siobhan all but sprinted back to the building that housed both her gunsmith shop and her home. To her delight, she found Carthage and Logan waiting for her at her front door. She dropped her rucksack and embraced Carthage.

“I knew you’d come back!” she exclaimed.

Carthage returned the hug, though not as roughly. “It’s good to see you too, Siobhan.”

She craned her neck to look at Logan. “Captain Logan, welcome back to Skye.”

“It’s good to be back,” she replied.

Siobhan released Carthage and took a step back. He was wearing a tan field jacket, blue jeans, and hiking boots. Logan wore the same, except she had a brown leather flight jacket.

“No uniforms?” she asked. “Are you on leave?”

“I’m out,” he replied. “Both of us, in fact. The Fawn is Logan’s private ship.”

“A social call, then? Or are you here to volunteer for the recovery effort?”

“Neither, though reuniting with you was always part of the plan. We have a lot to discuss.”

“By all means, then, come in.”

Siobhan let them in, led them through her shop into the living room, and grabbed a bottle of bourbon and three tumblers. She served them each a drink and gratefully sank into a leather armchair. Carthage and Logan sat on a couch.

“So,” began Logan, “how have things been?”

“It’s been hectic in the nine weeks since the CSF began arriving with recovery materials. At first I was at the forefront of the logistics nightmare of trying to evenly distribute it, along with trying to figure out which projects should have priority. Once the planetary government was sufficiently reestablished, I decided to return to Romanby and focus on the tri-town area of here, Abernathy, and Perth. Fortunately for us, nuclear power plants were given priority for maintenance, and the one here never experienced the failure that Ludain had feared.” Siobhan sipped her bourbon. “After that, restoring power to Abernathy and Perth became our priority. Though the underground conduits between those towns are intact, there’s some kind of problem with those from here to Abernathy. The CSF wasn’t able to commit to investigating why right now, but they did give us five miles worth of poles, lines, and transformers. So for the last two weeks, myself and a small crew have been working to get them installed on the road to Abernathy.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it when the lights are back on,” said Carthage. “What about your smithing business?”

Siobhan smiled. “You already know that was more of a hobby than anything substantial. The last three months haven’t changed that. Fortunately for me, being able to communicate with Earth again meant that I could start buying firearms, or at least try to. Navigating the export laws has been nigh impossible, though I did manage to buy a crate of AK-74s from Belarus. I’m still trying to get as much over here as possible before Skye’s government decides how they’re going to handle the import of arms. Right now it’s a free-for-all for whatever vice you’re into, as long as Earth will export it here.”

“Skye was always friendly towards weapons, weren’t they?” asked Logan.

“Yes, but after twenty years of anarchy, who knows what the reformed government will look like, or how people will vote? We can only hope our original constitution survives intact.”

“How did you pay for a crate of AKs?” asked Carthage.

“Prior to the Wave, the law said any bank doing business here must have a presence on Earth. That law was set to expire just before the Wave hit, but well, you know. That meant that anyone here who still knew their bank account numbers could simply get on the ‘net and access them. My dad was doing just fine, and now his account is mine. I paid for the rifles with direct debit.”

“Nice! And I assume that Skye’s economy is on track for recovery for the same reason?”

“Yes. Those whose bank records were lost are in the minority. We just started over where we left off, though the cost of some goods is understandably quite high right now. Subsidies for what and how much is being hotly debated. Anyway, some people, especially in the smaller towns, are reluctant to accept EFTs. Bartering is still common; for example, I traded an AK with my neighbor Farnham for six months-worth of fresh vegetables.”

“Neat. Do you have any left?”

“Vegetables or rifles?”

Carthage smiled. “Rifles. We need some. But I’m burying the lede about our mission.”

“I’m all ears.”

“You recall that we were able to get a clear shot of the night sky of the alien planet to which the wormhole led. Well, we finished analyzing that astronomical data, and located it. To our surprise, it’s orbiting V538 Aurigae, which is only five weeks away.”

“That’s amazing! So, is the CSF sending a research crew?”

“Not exactly. The astronomical data that we got from Dun Ringill was never shared with the CSF. I kept it for myself. An unmanned probe did a fly-by of V538 some years ago, and its data was made public. That’s how I was able to confirm that the fourth planet was the one on the other side of the wormhole. By then, Logan was the only one left I felt I could trust, but when I approached her with the news, I found she had just retired from the Fleet. Fortunately for me, she was in the process of purchasing her own ship, and she agreed to host the mission.”

“Why have her take you? Does the CSF want to keep this on the down-low?”

“I’m out, too. After I blew open the whole conspiracy around the Lagrange Project, I didn’t know if I was going to get a medal, or a prison sentence. It turns out that despite all the evidence I had, most of those responsible were allowed to quietly retire. I was seen not as a hero, but as a huge liability. So I was allowed to take an honorable discharge.”

“That’s bullshit. I mean, what happened to the generals and whatnot. If it makes you feel any better, you and I are officially heroes on Skye. I got a medal and I’ve got one for you, too. Right now, that and two dollars will get you a cup of coffee. Still, it sucks that your career had to suffer.”

Carthage shrugged. “Eh. Like Logan, I never had much of a reason to spend my salary. I’ll be fine. There was never any doubt I’d want to go on this mission, of course. It’s in my blood. And the architect of the conspiracy got what was coming to him after all, so I’m content to walk away.”

Siobhan gave him a hard look, but didn’t press him on the comment.

Logan said, “Though we’re not sure if we’re going to need any weapons, you never know. Some rifles would be good, but what would be better is something to outfit the Fawn. I’m sure you won’t be surprised that the CSF stripped it of weapons before they sold it.”

“That’ll be more difficult,” began Siobhan. “I seriously doubt Skye has any to spare. I also find it unlikely that the Afternoon Buzz is still sitting derelict outside of Dun Ringill. Anything worth salvaging would have been grabbed by now.”

“We thought of that. Our idea was to approach Skye’s government and let them in on the plan. By PU law, the first person to set foot on a new planet can lay a claim to it. We’d like to request a representative of your government to accompany us to V538. The trade is that Skye provides weapons for the Fawn, and in return they can claim the planet for any future colonization effort.”

“A planet infested with tentacle monsters? That’s a hard sell.”

“Maybe bring some kibble and domesticate them. Or maybe they’re delicious with wasabi and soy sauce. I dunno. First colonization rights either way would at least be worth sending one person along.”

“Okay. I guess I can get you in touch with a senator or somebody. They’ve reclaimed Aberdeen, so that’s where you’ll be going.”

Carthage said, “Okay. For now, the only thing left to decide is whether or not you’re coming with us.”

“There’s still a lot of work to be done on Skye, but I don’t think I can resist that offer. How long will the mission take, do you think?”

“Five weeks out, so double that plus however long we stick around.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll have my answer for you in the morning. I need some chow, and a good night’s sleep. Though you’re welcome to stay here, I assume you’ll be more comfortable on the Fawn.”

“I’ve been cooped up on that ship for too long already, with another long journey ahead. I think I’ll sleep under the stars tonight. Captain?”

“Knock yourself out, soldier,” she replied. “I prefer a soft bed.”

Coming Soon: Hard Stripes, A Novella In Episodic Format

On the streets of San Diego, a black-market deal goes horribly wrong, throwing an unsuspecting cop, a FBI agent, and a newly-recruited CIA operative into a violent confrontation with mercenaries, and uncovering a clandestine global network intent on selling US military technology to foreign governments. Will they be able to recover the technology before it’s too late?

Within the next two months, Amazon will be launching a new service: Kindle Vella. It will allow authors to post stories in an episodic format, releasing new installments as often as they like. Readers will be able to read the first three episodes for free, and unlock subsequent installments after purchasing tokens.

I’ve decided this is a perfect venue to publish Hard Stripes, a prequel novella to the Reckless Faith series. Departing from my normal genre, this story is mostly action-adventure with a bit of thriller. There is a sci-fi aspect to the story but it’s essentially a MacGuffin – it drives the characters but ultimately doesn’t impact the plot. It should appeal to existing fans of my writing as well as anyone who wants to add a few shootouts and explosions to their day.

While not a good fit as a traditional Kindle title – there isn’t really a way to add a prequel to a series – it seems like it will fit well on the new Vella format.

As usual, the cover art is by Alejandro “Alex Knight” Quinones.

https://imgur.com/a/lvWXP5l

Logan’s Legionnaires, Prologue

Spoiler warning: This is the beginning of a sequel to Dun Ringill

Prologue

Though he was no stranger to pain, Aberlade had never felt pure agony before.

The pain was the first thing to enter his conscious mind, as he lay sprawled out, face down, on the stone floor of the church’s vestibule.  Next was the ringing in his ears, and the acrid smell of smoke.  Though briefly knocked out, he hadn’t forgotten the urgency of the situation, and willed himself to move.  He felt the stock of the shotgun still clenched in his right hand, and kept ahold of it as he rolled over onto his back.  The only thing he could see was the bright sunlight streaming through the open doorway in front of him, until a misshapen form appeared and cast a shadow over him.

He raised himself to a seated position, and his left hand found the handguard of his weapon.  Aiming from the hip, he squeezed off a round toward the doorway.  The nine pellets of 00-buckshot found something important, and the creature slumped forward.  He clambered to his feet, shucking another round into the chamber, and looked at his companion.  Lying next to the heavy oak door, Seamus was clearly dead, having been torn almost in half by the grenade he tried to throw.  As his hearing slowly returned, Aberlade tried not to look at his friend’s corpse, nor the one of the monster at his doorstep.  Not without effort, he pushed the door closed.

Though pockmarked and seared by the grenade, the door and its lock were still functional.  He secured the door, casting the room into almost complete darkness.  He wanted to check himself for injuries, but first he would have to make his way to the bell tower, a place where he had spent most of every day for the last two months.  Grabbing his rucksack, he headed for the stairs.  Arriving there without passing out was a good sign, and with sunlight entering on all four sides, he looked at his body.  Despite the pain of the initial concussion, the grenade seemed to have spared him from any penetrating or lacerating wounds.

He leaned over the edge of the tower and looked at the street.  The remaining creatures seemed to be losing interest in his location.  Visible at this distance as only a shuffling mass of red tentacles, they began to wander back toward the swamps.  He sighed in relief.  Later, when he was sure they were gone, he would have to go back for Seamus’ weapon.  If there was any sadness at the loss of his friend, it might come later.  Right now, all he could think about was the fact that his supply of provisions had just doubled.  This was a comfort, however fleeting, as their forays further into the outskirts of the city were becoming more dangerous.  Today’s assault could have been avoided if they simply had more food.

Still, he would run out eventually, leaving him the unenviable choices of starvation, eating one of the monsters, or suicide.  As the last resident of the hell that Edinburgh had become, he knew he should have never expected any less.

__________

If there was a sketchier side of Mars, Carthage hadn’t seen it yet.  Arcadia, the slums of the otherwise glittering gem of Alba Mons City, was capable of supporting life, if you could call it that.  Nestled on the northern plateau, Arcadia would probably end up underwater if the Planetary Union ever succeeded with their terraforming plans, but for now it was a refuge for anyone who needed to operate outside of the law.  Beyond the protective electromagnetic dome, which shielded the city proper from solar radiation, one could find anything for sale or barter.  At least, so he’d been told.

His presence there, along with his commander, Logan, was to buy a thousand liters of uranium hexafluoride gas.  The good news was that it would fuel their ship for months, the bad news was that the substance was only authorized as fodder for military stardrives.  Anyone attempting to purchase that much through proper channels would doubtlessly gain the attention of the authorities.  That was the drawback of their ship, the Fawn.  Logan was able to purchase it for a song because, as military surplus, it was assumed one would have to completely retrofit the drive reactor with one that used an unrestricted fuel.  Since any other combination would have resulted in the transformation of a fast, nimble ship into a lethargic snail, Logan opted to keep the original stardrive.

Assuming their procurement was successful, this would only be Carthage’s second crime.  For Logan, it was a first.  Neither of them were used to negotiating with underworld types, not on Mars or anywhere else, but Logan wasn’t particularly worried.  Carthage’s negotiation skills with a firearm made up for a lot that might be lacking in diplomacy.  So, having landed the Fawn outside of town and donned their EVA suits, they made their way inside.  The suits were overkill, as at this time of night they really only needed warm clothing and an oxygen supply, but if for some reason they were delayed until sunrise, they would radiation protection as well.

Arcadia had begun its life as the spaceport for Alba Mons City, with the surplus population of undesirables building up residences and storefronts later.  While it still served this purpose, the warehouse district had for the most part moved under the EM dome, leaving several large complexes vacant.  They didn’t stay that way for long.  The disadvantage, as an ad hoc bazaar, was the distance between buildings.  One could not venture far without exposure to the sun, so most business was conducted at night.  Carthage and Logan had done as much research on the area as possible, and found themselves poking around in the gloom, following their PDAs, looking for a particular spot that did not want to be found.

So far they were being ignored by the locals.  They had distressed their otherwise new EVA suits to look as beat-up as possible without actually damaging them, which probably helped avoid scrutiny.  At last, they stopped in front of a side entrance to a massive warehouse, labeled only with the old-fashioned pictogram of an ancient gas pump, of a kind not seen on Earth in almost 80 years, though the icon had remained the standard until much more recently.  Carthage and Logan nodded at each other, and finding the door unlocked, they went inside.

To their surprise, the expansive indoor space was bright and clean.  Gas cylinders and drums were stacked neatly on shelving as high as ten meters, and everything appeared to be properly marked and labeled.  Along the ceiling was mounted a fire suppression system.  There was even an evacuation plan prominently posted on the wall.  Immediately to their right was a large, caged-in area, which contained a reception desk, a point-of-sale device, and a middle-aged woman dressed in orange coveralls.  A hardhat sat next to her computer.  She looked at the new arrivals expectantly.  The pair flipped up the visors on their helmets.  Although only remaining in the Martian atmosphere in trace amounts, the odor of ammonia was impossible to ignore.  The woman behind the desk must have noticed their expressions.

“New here?” she asked.  “You’ll get used to it.”

Logan produced a Crypto-Coin and placed the medallion-sized object on the counter, the 2D barcode facing up.  The woman scanned it, then verified its contents on her computer.  She raised an eyebrow at the balance.

“Looking to make a bulk purchase?”

Logan shook her head.  “Nothing more than a thousand liters of Hex.”

“Can I assume the remainder is for us to lose the paperwork?”

“Or fluctuations in the market.”

“I’ll have to run this by my boss.”

Logan smiled.  “Of course.”

The woman pulled out her PDA, and began a text conversation.  Carthage and Logan removed their helmets and waited.

“What’s the name of your vessel?”

“The Fawn, registration number HD-34411.”

Carthage gave Logan a sideways glance, to which she nodded slightly.

“Enceladus class?  You must have some connections.”

“Anybody can bid on old Fleet ships.  Having to swap out a Cooper Mark Four for something else is usually a deal-breaker.”

“Curious.  You want to go fast, but you’ll be hard pressed to find more fuel outside the solar system.  And yet, an Enceladus class ship isn’t going to outrun or outgun a Tethys or Dione.”

“It’s not going to outgun anything at all, since the Fleet stripped her weapons.  You seem to know a lot about the CSF.  Prior service?”

She smiled.  “I turned some wrenches in my day.  Oh, my boss approved the deal.  Do you need to purchase a dolly or did you bring your own?”

“We’ll need one.”

“There’s also a deposit for the cylinder.”

“Fine.”

“Okay, then.  I’ve sent the order to our warehouse guy.  He’ll bring it out momentarily.”

Thirty minutes later, Carthage and Logan had secured the fuel in the cargo bay of the Fawn.  Actually putting it in the engine’s storage tanks could wait until they were elsewhere in the solar system.  That done, they removed their EVA suits and returned them to their wall lockers.  Still on Earth local time, both were up well past their normal bedtimes.  Making their way back to the bridge, Logan yawned.

“I figure we’ll camp out somewhere in the asteroid belt to wait out the rest of tonight,” she said.  “That will give us a few hours of sack time before we load the fuel.  I suggest you use it, whether you feel you need it or not.”

“I’ve never been one to pass on a night’s rest for no reason,” replied Carthage, “but first I want to inspect the rest of the pistols we bought.”

The pair arrived on the bridge.  The room was a single level, with a pilot station in the middle and four others around the periphery.  It was identical to that on the Calypso, Logan’s previous command, though overall the Fawn was smaller.  In the pilot seat was Lieutenant Raven Cervantes, a younger woman of Costa Rican descent.  Like Carthage and Logan, she had recently separated from the fleet and was more than happy to be hired on with the Fawn.

“Report,” said Logan.

“No unusual activity while you were gone, Cap,” replied Cervantes.  “There was little ship traffic in this vicinity and no indication anyone took an interest in us.”

“Good.  Get us in the air.  Once we break atmo, pick a random spot on the ecliptic plane in one of the Kirkwood gaps.  Then I’ll send Morgan up to relieve you.  First thing in the morning, we’ll load the fuel and be on our way.”

“Understood.”

Logan and Carthage exited the bridge, and headed down the main corridor.  Logan’s quarters were just a few steps aft, and she stopped before entering.

“So, Carthage,” she began, “I was wondering how you were planning on spending your time during our trip.”

Carthage gave her a half-smile.  “How do Advanced Infantrymen spend their free time?”

“I guess that’s part of my question, but what I really meant is that I don’t know you very well personally.”

“It’s been several years since I read Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, I thought I’d read it again.”

“Was that part of your initial education?”

“Yes.  It fit perfectly into the AI program.”

“That has to do with Stoic philosophy, right?  It was an option on our academy reading list, too, but I never chose to read it.”

“You should.”

“I will, then.  Good night, Carthage.  Don’t stay up too late.”

Logan entered her quarters and shut the door.  Carthage made his way to the armory, where six crates containing seventy-two H&K USP .45-caliber pistols had been stored.  He had already inspected one crate, and six of the pistols had been claimed by himself and the rest of the crew, but the rest remained.  Though the pistols were considered obsolete by current standards, they were still quite deadly, and unlike something more exotic, still legal for civilian purchase.  The plan was to keep twelve, and trade the rest for better firepower once they arrived on Skye.

He opened the next crate.  The odor of the preservative oil strongly reminded him of Siobhan’s shop back in Romanby.  The feeling of missing someone was a new emotion for him, and the scent from the crates brought back his memories of their adventures together like it was yesterday.  He suddenly found himself wishing the trip to Skye would take fewer than five weeks.  It would be good to see Siobhan again, however briefly.  They would soon be moving on to V538 Aurigae.

No human had ever been to that star.  An unmanned probe had been sent some years earlier, but its mission was limited to cataloging the star and the largest planets in the solar system, before it sling-shot itself toward the next lonely star.  One planet, the fourth from the star, had been noted for its similarity to Earth, and it was likely the SUF would want to establish a foothold there soon.  For now, it remained a mystery, of little interest to anyone but Logan and her crew.  It was on this planet that they rested their hope, that the final piece of the Lagrange Project could at last be put to rest.

Ninety minutes later, Carthage scrubbed his hands in the lavatory in his quarters, satisfied that all of the pistols were serviceable.  He headed for bed, wondering what his dreams held for him.  Perhaps Siobhan, or perhaps the nightmarish creatures that they believed called V538 home.

Logan’s Legionnaires, Prologue and Chapter One

Spoiler warning: This is the beginning of a sequel to Dun Ringill

Prologue

Though he was no stranger to pain, Aberlade had never felt pure agony before.

The pain was the first thing to enter his conscious mind, as he lay sprawled out, face down, on the stone floor of the church’s vestibule.  Next was the ringing in his ears, and the acrid smell of smoke.  Though briefly knocked out, he hadn’t forgotten the urgency of the situation, and willed himself to move.  He felt the stock of the shotgun still clenched in his right hand, and kept ahold of it as he rolled over onto his back.  The only thing he could see was the bright sunlight streaming through the open doorway in front of him, until a misshapen form appeared and cast a shadow over him.

He raised himself to a seated position, and his left hand found the handguard of his weapon.  Aiming from the hip, he squeezed off a round toward the doorway.  The nine pellets of 00-buckshot found something important, and the creature slumped forward.  He clambered to his feet, shucking another round into the chamber, and looked at his companion.  Lying next to the heavy oak door, Seamus was clearly dead, having been torn almost in half by the grenade he tried to throw.  As his hearing slowly returned, Aberlade tried not to look at his friend’s corpse, nor the one of the monster at his doorstep.  Not without effort, he pushed the door closed.

Though pockmarked and seared by the grenade, the door and its lock were still functional.  He secured the door, casting the room into almost complete darkness.  He wanted to check himself for injuries, but first he would have to make his way to the bell tower, a place where he had spent most of every day for the last two months.  Grabbing his rucksack, he headed for the stairs.  Arriving there without passing out was a good sign, and with sunlight entering on all four sides, he looked at his body.  Despite the pain of the initial concussion, the grenade seemed to have spared him from any penetrating or lacerating wounds.

He leaned over the edge of the tower and looked at the street.  The remaining creatures seemed to be losing interest in his location.  Visible at this distance as only a shuffling mass of red tentacles, they began to wander back toward the swamps.  He sighed in relief.  Later, when he was sure they were gone, he would have to go back for Seamus’ weapon.  If there was any sadness at the loss of his friend, it might come later.  Right now, all he could think about was the fact that his supply of provisions had just doubled.  This was a comfort, however fleeting, as their forays further into the outskirts of the city were becoming more dangerous.  Today’s assault could have been avoided if they simply had more food.

Still, he would run out eventually, leaving him the unenviable choices of starvation, eating one of the monsters, or suicide.  As the last resident of the hell that Edinburgh had become, he knew he should have never expected any less.

__________

If there was a sketchier side of Mars, Carthage hadn’t seen it yet.  Arcadia, the slums of the otherwise glittering gem of Alba Mons City, was capable of supporting life, if you could call it that.  Nestled on the northern plateau, Arcadia would probably end up underwater if the Planetary Union ever succeeded with their terraforming plans, but for now it was a refuge for anyone who needed to operate outside of the law.  Beyond the protective electromagnetic dome, which shielded the city proper from solar radiation, one could find anything for sale or barter.  At least, so he’d been told.

His presence there, along with his commander, Logan, was to buy a thousand liters of uranium hexafluoride gas.  The good news was that it would fuel their ship for months, the bad news was that the substance was only authorized as fodder for military stardrives.  Anyone attempting to purchase that much through proper channels would doubtlessly gain the attention of the authorities.  That was the drawback of their ship, the Fawn.  Logan was able to purchase it for a song because, as military surplus, it was assumed one would have to completely retrofit the drive reactor with one that used an unrestricted fuel.  Since any other combination would have resulted in the transformation of a fast, nimble ship into a lethargic snail, Logan opted to keep the original stardrive.

Assuming their procurement was successful, this would only be Carthage’s second crime.  For Logan, it was a first.  Neither of them were used to negotiating with underworld types, not on Mars or anywhere else, but Logan wasn’t particularly worried.  Carthage’s negotiation skills with a firearm made up for a lot that might be lacking in diplomacy.  So, having landed the Fawn outside of town and donned their EVA suits, they made their way inside.  The suits were overkill, as at this time of night they really only needed warm clothing and an oxygen supply, but if for some reason they were delayed until sunrise, they would radiation protection as well.

Arcadia had begun its life as the spaceport for Alba Mons City, with the surplus population of undesirables building up residences and storefronts later.  While it still served this purpose, the warehouse district had for the most part moved under the EM dome, leaving several large complexes vacant.  They didn’t stay that way for long.  The disadvantage, as an ad hoc bazaar, was the distance between buildings.  One could not venture far without exposure to the sun, so most business was conducted at night.  Carthage and Logan had done as much research on the area as possible, and found themselves poking around in the gloom, following their PDAs, looking for a particular spot that did not want to be found.

So far they were being ignored by the locals.  They had distressed their otherwise new EVA suits to look as beat-up as possible without actually damaging them, which probably helped avoid scrutiny.  At last, they stopped in front of a side entrance to a massive warehouse, labeled only with the old-fashioned pictogram of an ancient gas pump, of a kind not seen on Earth in almost 80 years, though the icon had remained the standard until much more recently.  Carthage and Logan nodded at each other, and finding the door unlocked, they went inside.

To their surprise, the expansive indoor space was bright and clean.  Gas cylinders and drums were stacked neatly on shelving as high as ten meters, and everything appeared to be properly marked and labeled.  Along the ceiling was mounted a fire suppression system.  There was even an evacuation plan prominently posted on the wall.  Immediately to their right was a large, caged-in area, which contained a reception desk, a point-of-sale device, and a middle-aged woman dressed in orange coveralls.  A hardhat sat next to her computer.  She looked at the new arrivals expectantly.  The pair flipped up the visors on their helmets.  Although only remaining in the Martian atmosphere in trace amounts, the odor of ammonia was impossible to ignore.  The woman behind the desk must have noticed their expressions.

“New here?” she asked.  “You’ll get used to it.”

Logan produced a Crypto-Coin and placed the medallion-sized object on the counter, the 2D barcode facing up.  The woman scanned it, then verified its contents on her computer.  She raised an eyebrow at the balance.

“Looking to make a bulk purchase?”

Logan shook her head.  “Nothing more than a thousand liters of Hex.”

“Can I assume the remainder is for us to lose the paperwork?”

“Or fluctuations in the market.”

“I’ll have to run this by my boss.”

Logan smiled.  “Of course.”

The woman pulled out her PDA, and began a text conversation.  Carthage and Logan removed their helmets and waited.

“What’s the name of your vessel?”

“The Fawn, registration number HD-34411.”

Carthage gave Logan a sideways glance, to which she nodded slightly.

“Enceladus class?  You must have some connections.”

“Anybody can bid on old Fleet ships.  Having to swap out a Cooper Mark Four for something else is usually a deal-breaker.”

“Curious.  You want to go fast, but you’ll be hard pressed to find more fuel outside the solar system.  And yet, an Enceladus class ship isn’t going to outrun or outgun a Tethys or Dione.”

“It’s not going to outgun anything at all, since the Fleet stripped her weapons.  You seem to know a lot about the CSF.  Prior service?”

She smiled.  “I turned some wrenches in my day.  Oh, my boss approved the deal.  Do you need to purchase a dolly or did you bring your own?”

“We’ll need one.”

“There’s also a deposit for the cylinder.”

“Fine.”

“Okay, then.  I’ve sent the order to our warehouse guy.  He’ll bring it out momentarily.”

Thirty minutes later, Carthage and Logan had secured the fuel in the cargo bay of the Fawn.  Actually putting it in the engine’s storage tanks could wait until they were elsewhere in the solar system.  That done, they removed their EVA suits and returned them to their wall lockers.  Still on Earth local time, both were up well past their normal bedtimes.  Making their way back to the bridge, Logan yawned.

“I figure we’ll camp out somewhere in the asteroid belt to wait out the rest of tonight,” she said.  “That will give us a few hours of sack time before we load the fuel.  I suggest you use it, whether you feel you need it or not.”

“I’ve never been one to pass on a night’s rest for no reason,” replied Carthage, “but first I want to inspect the rest of the pistols we bought.”

The pair arrived on the bridge.  The room was a single level, with a pilot station in the middle and four others around the periphery.  It was identical to that on the Calypso, Logan’s previous command, though overall the Fawn was smaller.  In the pilot seat was Lieutenant Raven Cervantes, a younger woman of Costa Rican descent.  Like Carthage and Logan, she had recently separated from the fleet and was more than happy to be hired on with the Fawn.

“Report,” said Logan.

“No unusual activity while you were gone, Cap,” replied Cervantes.  “There was little ship traffic in this vicinity and no indication anyone took an interest in us.”

“Good.  Get us in the air.  Once we break atmo, pick a random spot on the ecliptic plane in one of the Kirkwood gaps.  Then I’ll send Morgan up to relieve you.  First thing in the morning, we’ll load the fuel and be on our way.”

“Understood.”

Logan and Carthage exited the bridge, and headed down the main corridor.  Logan’s quarters were just a few steps aft, and she stopped before entering.

“So, Carthage,” she began, “I was wondering how you were planning on spending your time during our trip.”

Carthage gave her a half-smile.  “How do Advanced Infantrymen spend their free time?”

“I guess that’s part of my question, but what I really meant is that I don’t know you very well personally.”

“It’s been several years since I read Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, I thought I’d read it again.”

“Was that part of your initial education?”

“Yes.  It fit perfectly into the AI program.”

“That has to do with Stoic philosophy, right?  It was an option on our academy reading list, too, but I never chose to read it.”

“You should.”

“I will, then.  Good night, Carthage.  Don’t stay up too late.”

Logan entered her quarters and shut the door.  Carthage made his way to the armory, where six crates containing seventy-two H&K USP .45-caliber pistols had been stored.  He had already inspected one crate, and six of the pistols had been claimed by himself and the rest of the crew, but the rest remained.  Though the pistols were considered obsolete by current standards, they were still quite deadly, and unlike something more exotic, still legal for civilian purchase.  The plan was to keep twelve, and trade the rest for better firepower once they arrived on Skye.

He opened the next crate.  The odor of the preservative oil strongly reminded him of Siobhan’s shop back in Romanby.  The feeling of missing someone was a new emotion for him, and the scent from the crates brought back his memories of their adventures together like it was yesterday.  He suddenly found himself wishing the trip to Skye would take fewer than five weeks.  It would be good to see Siobhan again, however briefly.  They would soon be moving on to V538 Aurigae.

No human had ever been to that star.  An unmanned probe had been sent some years earlier, but its mission was limited to cataloging the star and the largest planets in the solar system, before it sling-shot itself toward the next lonely star.  One planet, the fourth from the star, had been noted for its similarity to Earth, and it was likely the SUF would want to establish a foothold there soon.  For now, it remained a mystery, of little interest to anyone but Logan and her crew.  It was on this planet that they rested their hope, that the final piece of the Lagrange Project could at last be put to rest.

Ninety minutes later, Carthage scrubbed his hands in the lavatory in his quarters, satisfied that all of the pistols were serviceable.  He headed for bed, wondering what his dreams held for him.  Perhaps Siobhan, or perhaps the nightmarish creatures that they believed called V538 home.

Here Goes #7

Work has begun on a sequel to Dun Ringill, tentatively titled Logan’s Legionnaires. In this story, Carthage and Logan, formerly members of the Space Expedionionay Force and now freelancers, return to Skye in advance of a new mission of their own. New chapters will be posted here as they are created.