Flagship Victory (Galactic Liberation Book 3) Read online

  Books by David VanDyke:

  Stellar Conquest Series:

  First Conquest

  Desolator: Conquest

  Tactics of Conquest

  Conquest of Earth

  Conquest and Empire

  Books by B. V. Larson:

  The Undying Mercenaries Series:

  Steel World

  Dust World

  Tech World

  Machine World

  Death World

  Home World

  Rogue World

  Blood World

  FLAGSHIP VICTORY

  (Galactic Liberation Series #3)

  by

  David VanDyke

  and

  B. V. Larson

  Galactic Liberation Series:

  Starship Liberator

  Battleship Indomitable

  Flagship Victory

  Illustration © Tom Edwards

  TomEdwardsDesign.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Iron Tower Press, Inc.

  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 authors.

  Part I: Defender

  The evil, soul-crushing Mutuality had been overthrown by my Liberation. My troops and followers, my brave men and women, Straker’s Breakers, aided by allies such as the Unmutuals, the Ruxins, the Sachsens and many defectors, now stood victorious astride the trash heap of history that was its collectivist paradise. No longer would its tyranny hold more than a thousand worlds in thrall. The New Earthan Republic was born.

  Next, I would turn my attention to my former regime and nation, the Hundred Worlds. Long the enemy of the Mutuality—though their common citizenry was kept from this knowledge—the Huns were already seizing territory from our Republic and seemed unwilling to consider peace between the two great empires of mankind. Therefore, with the help of faithful friends and allies, I resolved to force them to talk.

  But before I could implement my intentions, before I could set my plans in motion, before I could even begin my honeymoon with my new wife—the commander of my fleets, Carla Straker née Engels—the insectoid Opters intervened. They’d first tried to addict me to their nectar. Next they utterly destroyed our largest shipyards at Kraznyvol. Now we raced to Murmorsk, to confront the Nest Ships there.

  - A History of Galactic Liberation, by Derek Barnes Straker, 2860 A.D.

  Atlantis: Capital of the Hundred Worlds

  Carstairs Corporation Headquarters

  One year ago

  The Hundred Worlds consisted of a bright cluster of stars, rare jewels in the velvet black of space.

  These star systems had become Humanity’s home, even if Old Earth still made the claim of origin. Earth was under the sway of the alien Hok in modern times, along with many other human-occupied systems. It was unrecognizable to to any independent, civilized person.

  At the center of the Hundred worlds, like a blue gem in a treasure chest, the planet Atlantis shone brightest of all. Unlike Earth, Atlantis bustled with energy and industry. She was the economic and political crossroads of the Hundred Worlds, and she served them all as their capital.

  On Atlantis, all things met, all paths intersected, and all power was conglomerated.

  Megacorp owner Billingsworth M. Carstairs VI told himself these unassailable truths every day of his rich life.

  Carstairs had commanded a host of underlings to gather for a high-level executive meeting. He always started such meetings wearing a stern frown, even when he was happy. His father, Big Bill Carstairs, had taught him that trick as a child. “Start from a position of dissatisfaction, my boy,” he’d said, “and your employees will work all the harder to please you. They’ll cherish your every smile, which you can then bestow like rare gifts.”

  Big Bill had been right, may he rest in peace. Over the last decade, Carstairs Corporation had grown from the third largest conglomerate in the Hundred Worlds into the biggest—it was now double the size of any other megacorp.

  The best part was the old man had had the decency to die before retiring, turning over his controlling interest to his son and namesake, Billy.

  Of course, nobody outside the Carstairs family called him Billy anymore. Not if they wanted to keep their jobs.

  The power of Carstairs meant Billy had Parliament Ministers in his pocket and plenty of fat government contracts. In fact, they’d just given him one of the fattest, which was why he had called today’s meeting.

  Stepping into the meeting chamber, Billy heard the room fall silent for a moment. All eyes fell to him, and his frown deepened in response.

  “Welcome, sir!” his CEO, Romy Gardel, gushed as she moved aside from her position at the head of the table.

  As his most trusted underling—and lover on demand—Gardel knew he was in a good mood, despite his forbidding appearance.

  “Thank you, Romy,” he said. “Everyone take your seats. Ladies and gentlemen, I have good news. The Defense Committee has approved funding for the Victory project. In fact, they were so impressed with the prototype, and so worried by the unfortunate military disaster at Corinth,” —here Carstairs released a broad, genuine smile and a chuckle, prompting sycophantic laughter from his underlings— “that they doubled the budget and tripled our potential bonus for commissioning the lead ship on time.”

  “No constitutional problems?” asked Mike Rollins, the corporation’s senior legal advisor. “How did they get around Section 4.3?”

  “The Declaration of Rights?” Carstairs chuckled again. “The Supreme Judiciary provided an official opinion that anything less than a full brain is mere tissue, with no more human rights than a transplanted heart or kidney, as long as it was harvested legally. A few tweaks to the Involuntary Organ Donor laws—necessary for the war effort under the Loyalist Act, you see—and thousands of brains become available, as long as they’ve lost certain vital functions, the poor souls. One slip of a scalpel and, ‘oh my, how unfortunate,’ with a generous settlement for the families, of course.”

  The Board members briefly changed their expressions to match Carstairs’ own, a moment of crocodile-teared sorrow.

  Carstairs continued, “The Loyalist Act gives the government all the authority it needs to identify and confiscate the remains for research purposes, and to classify all that research, does it not, Mister Rollins?”

  “It does.”

  “So we’re cleared to proceed.” Carstairs clapped his hands in satisfaction. “If these new flagships prove successful, not only may they allow our brave forces to achieve new gains, but the program can eventually expand to the civilian sector, where Victory-style AIs can be used for a wide variety of applications.” He frowned significantly at Rollins. “Our patent suites are comprehensive?”

  “Unassailable, sir,” the attorney said. “Oh, eventually other megacorps will find a way to legally use brain parts to create stable AIs, as it’s the only approach that has ever kept a machine AI from madness, but the comptrollers tell me we’ll have a good fifteen years of market dominance.”

  “And undoubtedly a large rise in the value of everyone’s stock options.” Carstairs clapped his hands once more. “Excellent! I’ll expect weekly reports on the project. Carry on.” He turned to go, and then looked back over his shoulder. “Oh, Romy, drop by my office when you’re done here.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said with just a hi
nt of extra color in her perfectly cut face. Carstairs found that money and power were always the best aphrodisiacs, and since he’d just promised Romy more of each… well, best to strike while the iron was hot.

  Very hot.

  He also had the latest pharmaceutical aphrodisiacs available, guaranteed to produce maximum performance with minimum side effects.

  His executive bedroom was about to get a workout.

  Chapter 1

  Murmorsk System, New Earthan Republic

  Admiral Derek Straker, mechsuit pilot and self-styled Liberator of humanity, gripped the backrest of Commodore Carla Engels’ command chair. He stared at the enormous hologram projected above the battleship Indomitable’s gargantuan bridge. It showed a bewildering swirl of warships locked in mortal combat.

  Indomitable had just arrived at Murmorsk, the recently overthrown Mutuality’s—now the New Earthan Republic’s—second-largest fleet base and military shipyards. Straker and Engels both expected the strange insectoid Opters and their carrier-like Nest Ships to strike there next, after apparently destroying the larger, main base at Kraznyvol.

  Their guess was right.

  Straker’s hope, that Indomitable and other Republic forces could catch the Opters in the act, had panned out. His message drones had directed all available warships to assemble at Murmorsk and engage at the senior commander’s discretion. Indomitable’s slow sidespace transit speed meant she arrived well after the other ships.

  “Who’s in command of our forces?” Straker asked.

  Tixban, the ship’s octopoid Ruxin sensors officer, replied, “It appears Commodore Gray has assumed that position.”

  Straker saw Engels nod with satisfaction. Despite a rocky start, the crusty, older Ellen Gray had become a solid sister-in-arms to them both.

  “Highlight enemy battle positions,” Engels ordered.

  Tixban brushed his subtentacle clusters across the console, refining the hologram view to illustrate his words. “Six Opter Nest ships are grouped here, about halfway between the star and the edge of flatspace. Their combat drones are approaching the inner planets and shipyards.”

  “How many drones?”

  “At least fifty thousand. There may be more. I am still collating data.”

  Straker’s brow furrowed. “Hell… Fifty thousand… How can we fight that many?”

  Engels stood to walk closer to the hologram. “During transit here I studied all the data we collected. Individually the drones are weak. Many of them are no more than a small fighter with an expendable pilot and one weapon, usually a beam of some sort. I believe those are crewed by the dog-bees, the least intelligent kind of Opters. The next, less numerous class up is a larger fighter, probably piloted by the antlike technicians you saw. These have a mix of two or three small weapons. More punch, more survivable. Above that, they have attack ships comparable to ours, with single larger weapons, likely piloted by wasp warriors.”

  Straker grunted in acknowledgement. “What forces do we have?”

  Tixban highlighted the icons. “Commodore Gray’s flagship, the super-dreadnought Correian. Five dreadnoughts, nineteen battlecruisers, thirty-five heavy cruisers, sixty lights, and over four hundred escorts from destroyers down to corvettes. Everything that could converge from nearby systems.”

  “Attack ships?”

  “Forty-five, from the local forces, along with two monitors and a handful of escorts. They also appear to be trying to launch some of the warships under repair, but they’re unlikely to make them battle-ready soon enough.”

  “Those attack ships won’t last long. The monitors may survive… How long until the Opter forces hit them?”

  “Two hours.”

  “And Commodore Gray’s ships?”

  “About three hours until her fastest ships can join the battle.”

  Straker slammed his palm on the chair’s back. “And there’s no way for Indomitable to reach the fight in time.”

  “No,” said Engels. “We need twelve hours minimum simply to reassemble the sections.” The battleship, too large to transit through sidespace in once piece, had to break apart into sixteen sections every time it traveled from star to star.

  “Damn it all, we can’t just sit here aboard Indomitable as spectators!”

  “We have no other choice,” said Tixban.

  “Oh, yes we do. Indy? Zaxby?” Straker called into the air, presuming the artificial intelligence Trinity would be listening. The AI inhabited the destroyer formerly called Gryphon, docked with Indomitable’s prime section.

  A voice that sounded like Indy—the machine part of the group-mind—replied. “I am not Zaxby or Indy anymore. I am Trinity now, Admiral. How may I serve?”

  “How quick can you get me to the fight?”

  “Trinity is the fastest ship present in the system. I estimate I can reach the forward edge of the battle area within two hours, if you board me within the next seven minutes.”

  “On my way.”

  Engels was already turning to object. “What do you think you can do out there that Ellen Gray can’t, Derek?” she hissed, moving close. “You’re not a fleet commander.”

  “Exactly, so I’m not needed here. I can’t just sit on my ass. You’re the naval officer. You get Indomitable traveling inward as fast as you can. Assemble on the move. Trinity will keep me safe while I observe our new enemies up close.”

  “Observe,” she scoffed. “You can’t observe anything more than sensors collect. Send in Trinity on her own if you need data. You don’t need to risk yourself.”

  “I have to get in there,” Straker insisted.

  “I will keep him safe,” Trinity assured Engels. “I also am interested in observing the Opters up close and adding to my data stores.” That sounded more like the Zaxby part of the triumvirate being.

  “There you go.” Straker pecked Engels on the lips. “Gotta run, hon. See you on the other side.” He left her fuming.

  As he jogged toward the flight deck, he called into the air, “You still wired into Indomitable’s nervous system, Trinity?”

  “If you’re asking if I’m still connected to the shipboard network—I am.”

  “Tell Redwolf to grab my go-bag from my quarters and meet me at the airlock. Then pass to the flight deck to prep my mechsuit. I’ll walk it aboard.”

  “There’s no need,” said Trinity. “I am even now loading it into my cargo bay, having anticipated your desire to bring it along.”

  Straker changed direction toward the airlock. “Great. Be there in a minute.”

  At the portal from Indomitable to Trinity, Sergeant Redwolf stood in his battlesuit, a duffel in each hand.

  “What’s in the other bag?” Straker asked as he came to a stop.

  “My own gear, sir.”

  “I don’t need you along, Red.”

  The man’s black eyes darkened further. “Ain’t I your bodyguard, sir? And your steward?”

  Straker thought about it. “I guess you are, aren’t you? Okay, good to have you along.”

  Redwolf’s planar face almost cracked a smile. “Glad to hear it, sir. I wouldn’t want to have to fibertape you and carry you aboard.” He entered Trinity ahead of Straker.

  Straker snorted and followed. Damned battlesuiters. Think they can do or say anything and get away with it. Kinda like mechsuiters.

  When he reached Trinity’s compact bridge, he was surprised to see a young, platinum-haired, ethereally beautiful woman standing near the empty command chair. “Please, Admiral, sit,” she said. She wore an ice-blue skintight poly-suit that left little to the imagination. A sleek headset hugged the back of her skull like a piece of high-tech jewelry.

  Straker couldn’t help but take an appraising look before forcing his eyes to move above her neckline. “And you are?”

  “I am Trinity,” she said, with a knowing smile and a lift of one perfect eyebrow. “I used to be known as Doctor Marisa Nolan. My body has been rejuvenated and my mind has been integrated.”

  Str
aker’s jaw dropped. “You’re that creaky old woman?”

  “I was.” She turned left and right, showing off her body to best advantage. “I retain all of my personality and memories, so I’m still vain enough to appreciate being a knockout again. I was quite the heartbreaker in my younger days.”

  “I imagine…” Straker said, mentally reminding himself once again that he was happily married. “Feel free to wear something a little less…”

  “Sexually arousing?”

  Straker made an exasperated sound. “Forget it. Let’s get underway.”

  “We’re already accelerating at maximum, Admiral,” she replied. “Interacting with you socially takes only a tiny percentage of my attention, so there’s been no delay.”

  Right. She was just as much a part of Trinity as Zaxby or Indy, though it was hard to remember that right now. “Good. Fine. But seriously, you make it difficult for me when you act this way—like a Tachina clone.”

  The Marisa-body’s face fell. “I take your point, and I apologize.”

  She turned and walked out. Maybe she was merely doing as he asked, or maybe she had her feelings hurt. If so, she needed to grow up. A rejuvenated hundred-year-old woman should know better, even if she did share a brain with a teenaged AI and the nonhuman Zaxby.

  Nolan looked just as good from behind. Straker shook his head and thought of cold showers. When that didn’t work, he mentally superimposed Carla’s image on Marisa’s, and then turned his face to the main holoplate. “Give me a view of the upcoming engagement.”

  “Of course, Admiral,” said Indy’s disembodied, decidedly non-sexy voice.

  The holoplate showed a swarm of Opter drones. Well, technically not drones, as they had pilots, but they were likely to operate as drones—expendable extensions of the Nest Queens’ will, so he called them drones. The swarm approached the inner worlds in a disciplined mass, heading first for the largest and most densely industrialized planet of Murmorsk-4. This was a small gas world, and the main shipyards were on the moon called Beta-2.