Star Carrier (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  SF Books by B. V. Larson:

  The Undying Mercenaries Series:

  Steel World

  Dust World

  Tech World

  Machine World

  Death World

  Home World

  STAR FORCE SERIES:

  Swarm

  Extinction

  Rebellion

  Conquest

  Army of One (Novella)

  Battle Station

  Empire

  Annihilation

  Storm Assault

  The Dead Sun

  Outcast

  Exile

  Demon Star

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  STAR CARRIER

  (Lost Colonies Trilogy #3)

  by

  B. V. Larson

  Lost Colonies Trilogy

  Battle Cruiser

  Dreadnought

  Star Carrier

  Copyright © 2016 by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

  -1-

  Star Guard’s budget ballooned in the months after I’d first met with the Ruling Council of Earth. The Council was a shadowy group of oldsters who were invisible to society at large, but they possessed tremendous power. They quietly guided events on my home planet from behind the scenes.

  Clear evidence of their fantastic influence had appeared in physical form since my last voyage. Seven new spacecraft now hung in orbit over Earth’s equatorial belt.

  They were battleships all—huge, ugly vessels. They were angular in design and spiked with weaponry. They looked quite distinct from my own ship, Defiant.

  From Defiant’s command deck, I reviewed this newborn fleet and went over the relative capacities of the hulking vessels. By the specs, they were slow. They had engines with approximately the same thrust-output as the engines on my own battle cruiser, but they also had three times Defiant’s mass.

  What they lacked in speed and maneuverability they more than made up for in firepower. Their primary cannon batteries outranged my ship’s weapons by a million kilometers, and they hit with greater force—at least, they did so in theory.

  They were as yet untested ships. They were battlewagons designed to crush an enemy fleet, not to chase down fleeing opponents. Would that design work in open space? It was an unanswered question.

  “I don’t like it,” Commander Durris said.

  He was my executive officer, and he stood close by my side as always. He was a well-groomed man whose spine was as ramrod straight as his personality.

  “What doesn’t meet with your approval?” I asked him.

  Durris took a moment to think before replying. He ran his fingers over his console, causing images to shift into wire-frame in the tactical display. A wealth of colored digits appeared all over every vessel.

  “They have firepower,” he said at last, “but they can’t move. What if the enemy hits us from multiple fronts? We can’t be everywhere at once, and they’ll dance away if we chase them with these brutes.”

  I nodded, as his logic was unassailable. He lacked, however, all the facts that I was privy to.

  “That might not be necessary,” I said. “This fleet wasn’t built to patrol the Solar System.”

  “What then?” he asked.

  His attention left his console, and he fixed me with a sharp stare. He’d asked countless times for more information concerning the strategic meetings the captains of all the capital ships had been attending of late, but I’d given him nothing. I’d been cautioned not to up until our last meeting.

  “Previously,” I said to him quietly, “we possessed only a defensive force. It’s been suspected all along that the Stroj may appear at any moment with an invasive fleet. If they’d done so a year ago, we barely had enough vessels to guard our home space. These new ships are our answer to that dilemma.”

  “I don’t see how,” he said, scoffing. “These monsters are too damned slow. What if the Stroj come at Mars or the asteroids? We’d lose everything we have out there. We couldn’t even show up at the fight before they erased—”

  I lifted a hand to quiet him. “I said that was the plan. Things have changed.”

  “In what way?” he asked, with obvious skepticism.

  My XO was competent, hard-working and loyal. He was also suspicious and unwilling to take chances in general. As a result, he made an excellent exec, but he’d been passed up for command repeatedly—even with a dozen new commissions being handed down over the last year.

  For my own part, I considered the fact he was lingering at his current rank a benefit. I needed an experienced crew, and he was a central part of my team.

  “The change involves two specific points,” I explained. “Firstly, we now have enough ships to do more than sit here guarding Earth.”

  He snorted. “We do? Says who?”

  I wanted to tell him that the Ruling Council, the oldsters who spun webs of power behind the men and women we took to be our leaders, had done so. But naturally, revealing such a thing was out of the question if I wanted to keep my command.

  Instead, I cleared my throat. “Our fleet is more powerful than it may seem,” I assured him. “Lay out a course for Mars. We have a mission to perform.”

  He eyed me tensely for a moment.

  “Sir,” he said, “I appreciate the need for the utmost secrecy. What with the infiltration of the Stroj among our ranks, I even applaud it. But certain factors would be very helpful when preparing for a voyage. The expected length of our stay, for example...?”

  “Assume the worst,” I said. “Fill our holds with foodstuffs and emergency supplies. Pack every magazine as if we’re going on a lengthy campaign.”

  He nodded, tapping at his screens with quick fingers.

  “What of personnel? What about our marine complement and our—?”

  “Get them all back here. All leaves are canceled.”

  “Yes sir! When do we have to be underway?”

  “I’ll give you six days. That’s all we can afford. Can we be ready to launch by then?”

  “I’ll make it happen, Captain.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “I know you’ve kept this ship primed, in the highest state of readiness. I appreciate that, Commander Durris.”

  He smiled briefly. “Thank you, sir.”

  That was it. He stopped asking questions, and that pleased me, because I had precious few more answers for him.

  I’d been briefed only hours earlier at CENTCOM. Admiral Halsey had kept the affair short and sweet. We were to gather our crews and leave orbit, arriving at the laboratory complex on Phobos within two weeks’ time.

  I’d promised the admiral I could keep that schedule, and I didn’t like to disappoint the brass.

  * * *

  The fleet slipped away one by one over the following days. There’d been no announcement of intent or statement of purpose to the public.

  But they’d noticed—how could they not? The skies were too clear, the fading presence of the heavy, silver-black ships too obvious to ignore. The plumes of exhaust alone formed brilliant streaks as the vessels broke orbit, each like a great comet when seen from the city streets far below us.

  “William?” a call reached my mind through my implant. “Captain William Sparhawk, won’t you speak with me?”

  It was Lady Chloe of
House Astra. She and I had a history. We’d been lovers before the war had begun, and I thought of her often still.

  Despite these facts, I was reluctant to answer her call. The last time I’d shipped out, she’d contacted me as well—or someone pretending to be her had. I’d been waylaid, and I’d nearly missed my appointment with destiny.

  But her voice wouldn’t leave my mind. The sweet tones of it rang in my ears as if I was actually hearing them. Despite the fact I knew it was merely my implant playing on my aural nerves, I felt a rush of emotion. Her voice conjured fond memories I couldn’t escape.

  Sometimes, advancements in technology could be cruel. In the old days, messages from a man’s lost love haunted him with mere script or text. They could be more easily and painlessly ignored.

  Not so today. Now, I had to endure the lilt of her voice, the emotion in it plain to my senses. It was as if she stood on my command deck and whispered sweetly to me.

  Sucking in a breath, I steeled myself for whatever might come from her virtual throat and answered the call.

  “Lady Astra,” I said formally and with what I hoped was a welcoming tone. “It’s good to hear from you. It’s been months. What can I do for you and your House?”

  “So formal, William!” she said. “May I manifest? Your options are forbidding it.”

  My cheek twitched. I’d set my implant to allow audio, but to filter out visuals. Releasing a quiet sigh, I willed this to change.

  Lady Astra immediately appeared. My mind placed her in an empty seat nearby, one usually occupied by Lieutenant Commander Yamada.

  “Excuse me,” I told Chloe, “I’ve been overloaded with documents and reports. They’ve been cluttering my field of vision lately.”

  “Perhaps I should go, then?” she asked.

  I gazed at her for the span of two heartbeats. I knew I should banish her image from my mind—but I couldn’t. Not now that I’d laid eyes upon her again. She was as fresh as a flower, as exquisite as a cut jewel.

  “Tell me what this is about,” I said.

  Chloe’s eyes crawled around the command deck. She could see what I could see, using my optical channels. She looked at the forward screen, and she gasped.

  “It’s true,” she said, “you’re shipping out. All of you. Where are you going, William?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. You know that, Chloe.”

  “Of course not,” she said. “You’d think they’d brief the membership—but not these days. CENTCOM has become positively paranoid.”

  That was with good reason, we both knew. Stroj assassins had popped up from time to time, and agents had been ferreted out. Some thought we’d gotten the last of them, and none had been discovered for several months.

  But how could we be absolutely certain of that? One couldn’t verify a negative. The Stroj had proven very resourceful when it came to infiltration, spying and subversion.

  Her eyes came back to rest on me.

  “You can relax,” she said. “I’m not a Stroj agent. Not this time. I’m a worried Public Servant. I’m not calling to beg you to come back to my side or do anything else against your orders.”

  “Good,” I said.

  She smiled. “We both know you wouldn’t do it anyway. What I’m calling for is information. My House is concerned. The fleet is leaving orbit, and no one seems to know why.”

  “Someone must,” I said, “perhaps you can inquire at CENTCOM?”

  She made a snorting sound and a flippant gesture. “As if that would make a difference. They won’t even answer my calls. Me, a full-fledged Servant, stone-walled like a salesman! It’s astonishingly inappropriate.”

  “Well, I can’t give you anything they won’t. Surely, you know that Chloe.”

  “I do. But perhaps you can tell me a few things that aren’t classified?”

  “Such as?”

  “Do you have a full load of supplies aboard?”

  I hesitated. There were no orders regarding information dissemination other than not to reveal our mission or our destination.

  “I can’t tell you that,” I said.

  “Really?” she asked, more concerned than ever. “That must mean you do have a full load. Therefore, they’re sending the whole fleet into deep space for a lengthy voyage without informing any of the oversight committees. Unbelievable.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my captain’s chair despite the fact the padding was more than adequate.

  “Please, Lady Astra, don’t ask me any more questions. I can’t afford to be a source for anything—not even a shrewd guess.”

  “Do you think I’m a Stroj illusion?” she asked. “Because I’m not. Not this time.”

  “I’m sure of that, but I have my orders.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sorry for this call. I was asked to do it on the behalf of others. We’re in a bit of a power-struggle down here. There are protocols, and they aren’t being followed.”

  “Let me see if I understand you,” I said. “Someone felt your relationship with me could be exploited to bypass CENTCOM? I’m alarmed at the thought as well as your participation in this matter.”

  She sighed and lowered her chin. “I knew you’d feel this way. You’re a man of principles, and I must apologize. On a personal note, please contact me when you return home. I’d love to see you again in person, William.”

  This last statement made me smile. She’d broken my heart some time back and now, here she was again, toying with me. I knew all this, but I’d been captivated by her from the start. She was fickle and aloof at times, but she’d fascinated me from the moment I’d met her.

  “I’ll do that,” I said. “Now, if you could excuse me…”

  “Of course. Carry on, and may the stars guide you!”

  The channel closed, but my eyes lingered upon her ghostly form until it vanished completely from my mind.

  -2-

  The trip out to Mars was relatively uneventful, but when we got there, things suddenly changed.

  “Excuse me, Captain,” Yamada’s voice interrupted me. “There’s an anomaly on our sensor map.”

  Sleeping hard in my cabin, the call startled me. I’d left instructions that dictated I was to be awakened immediately upon any kind of threat to the ship. Gasping awake, I slapped at the wall and answered in a rough voice. “I’ll be right there.”

  I didn’t bother to ask Yamada what the anomaly was. I simply dressed and rushed to the lift. She knew her business. She wouldn’t summon me back to my command chair without good reason.

  Linking into the command feed from my cabin was an option, of course. I could have done so while remaining on my back on my bunk, but I passed on that. I’d always believed a captain belonged on the command deck when anything serious occurred.

  When I got to my seat and looked over the screens, an ensign pressed a cup of iced caf into my hands. I took it gratefully and sipped the beverage. Stimulants could be over-used, but there were also moments where they were invaluable tools.

  The graphics weren’t telling me much. Defiant was leading the fleet, flying far ahead of the primary formation of battleships. My vessel was quite a bit faster, and we’d naturally taken on the role of scouting ahead.

  The sensors displayed a single, large yellow contact about two million kilometers out, orbiting Mars. The color indicated the contact was unclassified but not necessarily dangerous.

  As I delved deeper into the data, Durris stepped up to my side to provide his insight.

  “We spotted it about ten minutes ago,” he said. “I contacted Phobos traffic, and they asked for you by name.”

  “They told you nothing of the contact?”

  “No sir. They only asked for you.”

  I nodded, wondering what was going on. “Give me details.”

  “It’s about a kilometer wide and four long. She’s under power, in a steady orbit.”

  Frowning at him, I stopped sipping my drink. “Are you saying this thing is a vessel?”

  �
��Yes—it’s artificial at least.”

  “But such size… we’ve got nothing like it.”

  “That’s correct, sir,” he said, giving me a nod.

  He retreated, and I was left to ponder the mystery. Why had an unknown vessel parked itself in orbit over Mars? Alarmingly, the ship was so large she dwarfed every battleship in our new fleet.

  I sucked in a deep breath and let it out again.

  “Have you relayed our findings to Admiral Halsey’s ship?” I asked Durris.

  As was usually the case, Durris had stood watch during my absence. He made a good XO and rotated shifts with me on a regular basis.

  “I have, sir. They acknowledged the report but requested no more information. I’m under the impression that Halsey knows what’s going on and doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  “That’s a good sign, at least.”

  “Sir…” Durris said, “perhaps we shouldn’t make waves. If the Admiral is aware and unconcerned, is it our duty to—?”

  “Yes, it is,” I said. “We’re flying ahead of the fleet for a reason. The least we can do is make sure we aren’t walking our new ships into anything dangerous.”

  Frowning, I brought up a rotating hologram of Phobos. I spun it and reviewed the lab complex on a relatively flat plane, which automatically overlaid all current sensor input with past data. There appeared to be a disturbed region in a crater near the laboratory. But there were no obvious signs of damage or distress. Their power was on and everything appeared to operating normally.

  “Yamada,” I said at last, “open a channel to Star Guard on Phobos.”

  “Channel open,” Yamada said promptly. “They’re requesting your ID, and a private tunnel.”

  “Provide it.”

  She slid her fingers over her console for a few seconds, then turned and nodded to me. “Ready, Captain. You can link in with your implant at will.”

  After another gulp of chilled liquid, I set my cup down and connected to the private data stream Yamada had set up for me.

  This time, rather than having the other party appear at my side, my mind was transported to their location.