Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Invasion Read online

  Birthright:

  Battle for the Confederation

  Invasion

  Ryan Krauter

  Copyright © 2011 by Ryan Krauter

  Cover art by Ryan Krauter

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Novels by Ryan Krauter

  (hyperlinks)

  Birthright Series:

  Invasion

  Reprisal

  Crusade

  Turmoil

  The Out of Nowhere Series: (Young Adult)

  Out of Nowhere

  Shadow of Doubt

  The Fixer

  My Own Prison (short story)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  The Brief History of a Galactic Spiral Arm

  Chapter 1

  The Corona cruised silently through the vacuum, white light from its’ drives washing the rear of the ship in a pale light which rivaled that of any of the dim stars nearby. It was an earlier Pulsar class destroyer, dressed in the standard gray Confederation colors. Like all others of the Pulsar class, it was mainly an escort type ship, assigned to fleets, routine patrol routes and convoys due to its smaller size. With a crew of only three hundred, it was Confed’s smallest warship.

  Her course was nothing out of the ordinary. After a brief stop at a Confed communications station to deliver some equipment, she was now swinging through a moderately traveled sector of Confederation space, which adjoined a mutually agreed-upon neutral buffer area between Confed and several other local group territories. She had recently received orders to make a slight detour to include several uninhabited systems, most likely to check for smugglers or pirates; just a quick jaunt through the spacelanes of Confed’s extended backyard, as it were.

  On the modestly sized bridge, it was business as usual. The ship’s command center, like all other Confed vessels, was considered by many to be just slightly too dark, but Captain Salles liked it that way. It made the crew concentrate that much harder on their instruments. And this close to Enkarran space, we’d better be concentrating, he thought. The Confederation and Enkarran Union existed in a kind of cold war half-truce. Their relationship was a long way from perfect; however, they maintained at least social ties in the interest of keeping the peace. They were the real reason the Corona patrolled this particular spot of otherwise uninteresting space. You had to show the neighbors that you were in fact keeping an eye on them. Captain Salles was from what others would refer to as the ‘Old School’ of starship command, though he would argue there was no ‘New School’ that had cropped up to take it’s place. Another generation in a proud military family, he had earned his place on this ship through hard work and tireless devotion to his duty. Just past middle age, he was valiantly fighting off the added pounds that seemed to creep up on many of his fellow officers. He looked years younger than he actually was; the only giveaway to his advancing years was the now mostly gray hair which he kept shaved close. Some captains ran a less formal ship, but discipline had its’ place, and he felt a starship was one of them.

  The Captain had been sitting for quite some time- he decided it was time to take a stroll around his bridge.

  “How’s the sector looking, Ensign?” Salles asked as he walked to the back of the bridge and the sensor station.

  “Nothing unusual so far, Captain,” the Drisk Ensign reported. The woman at first looked like any other humanoid species in the galaxy, until you took the time to look a little closer. That is, if she would let you. It was up close that you saw the catlike, predator’s eyes, the smooth grace of her movements, typical of the Drisk. “Almost done with this sweep,” she added, making one final adjustment to her control panel.

  “The sooner, the better, Ensign,” Salles said as he turned to return to his chair. Maybe he would get it reupholstered after this Rim tour as a gift to himself. Calling the territory the Rim was a bit misleading, but had ingrained itself in Confed Navy speech too long ago to be rectified now. Rather than implying the edge of the galaxy or anything so grand, it simply signified the edge of Confed’s formally claimed territories, and after all, a completely uneventful foray in the commercially used spacelanes of the Rim, with its pirates, half-developed mining colonies, distance from the center of Confed space, and proximity to Enkarran outposts, was definitely something to celebrate. He sat down in it, hearing the synthetic leather material scrunch under his weight. He loved that sound.

  Due to their capabilities, their destroyer wasn’t operating in what would be called dangerous space. Nevertheless, it was an important mission of the Confederation to show their commitment to this particular corner of their realm, a once-expansionary locale that had stalled as certain heavy industries had abandoned their own expansion plans here. The sight of even their modest ship would make pirates, smugglers, and most other undesirable folk head for another sector of space. He saw his Executive Officer glance over at him, noticing the captain’s return to his post. He nodded at his XO, who returned the gesture. Salles started to think of heading back across the Expansion Zone and to the Core sectors…

  “Captain, I am picking up a faint read at three-four-zero, plus ten degrees relative,” reported the sensor officer. “Putting it up on main holographic display,” she finished. A large holographic generator pad at the front of the bridge sent up a hazy, shimmering tower of light from the floor. After a second of two, the haze coalesced into a tactical map of the surrounding area- shimmering stars, pulsars, and loose dust clouds, with the Corona at the center of the map.

  Sure enough, to the ship’s eleven o’clock position and slightly above them, sensors were interpreting all kinds of electromagnetic, radiation, and light emissions to be a ship. The computer also placed a schematic of its best guess as to ship type next to the still-resolving picture of the Pulsar’s new visitor.

  It was an Enkarran cruiser, and it appeared to have just noticed them.

  “Well, there goes our perfect record,” remarked Salles. “Yellow alert, all crew to stations. Communications, let’s contact them and try to say ‘hi’.” As his orders were given, crew shifted to different stations and changed displays. Their postures became a little straighter, their energies a little more focused.

  Salles watched as the communications officer attempted to raise the Enkarran ship on standard channels.

  “They’re not responding, Captain,” came the report from the Ensign, sitting behind him and working furiously at her station to further their efforts at contact. There were only so many diagnostics she could run to check if it was a malfunction on the Pulsar’s part, and most of those were done automatically; she quickly concluded there was no malfunction on their end. She was still disconcerted that she couldn’t raise them- what worse mark than to cause an incident because she had forgot to set up the channel correctly? She checked everything a third time- things were still working normally.

  “Now,” the captain said more for his benefit than anyone else’s, “what are they up to?” He turned to the weapons station in the far rear area of the bridge under the overhanging ceiling. “Lieutenant, confirm our we
apons at standby and report on theirs.” Salles had this tiny, almost insignificant feeling in the back of his mind that there was something wrong, just a little tingle that reminded him of the feeling you get when you think you’re being watched. It was not appropriate to do anything about the Enkarran’s unusual actions yet. You don’t get to be the captain of a ship by making rash gut responses…

  “Captain, our weapons ready, nothing’s locked on us,” responded the Lieutenant. The Captain stared at the main display, which now held a visual image of the Enkarran cruiser. Oddly, he began to perspire just a bit. Wouldn’t do to have the crew see him get psyched out over a mere Enkarran ship. He got up again and walked to the helm position, hoping the movement would take his mind off his own body’s efforts to embarrass him.

  Over the last few minutes the two ships had closed distance drastically. The Enkarran ship was boresighted on the Corona now. Through the magnified image, you could even discern the outlines of individual components. The engine pylons, command tower, torpedo tubes… Captain Salles was about to ask his XO for some thoughts on the matter when the officer at Sensors called out from the back, “Torpedoes active Captain! Four on their way!”

  “Red alert, shields up! All hands to battle stations, arm weapons and prepare for impact,” was the first thing anyone heard. Salles was trying to give ten commands at once. He couldn’t tell for a microsecond whether he or the XO had barked that command. An instant later he realized that he had drilled these commands so many times he had spoken them without really thinking about what he was saying.

  The demeanor of the bridge had changed in a split second. Gone was the curious guesswork of a crew wondering what was going to happen next. Training had taken over. Bridge crewmembers were already arming blaster turrets, locking offensive weapons systems, and working on using countermeasures to neutralize the incoming torpedoes. All this had happened in the blink of an eye, and Captain Salles was proud of how quickly and instinctively his crew reacted. The Enkarrans had fired the torpedoes ‘cold’; instead of using the targeting system that would have given away their intent, they had merely pointed their torpedo tubes right at the Corona. Captain Salles glanced again at the holographic display to see that the model Enkarran cruiser had indeed unleashed four torpedoes, their engines throwing out a red exhaust that seemed to wash over the entire projectile, giving it an eerie, demonic look. The Captain knew immediately this was not a good situation- the Enkarran cruiser had the Corona outgunned from the start. They had to get out of here…

  “Helm,” shouted Salles, “hard to port, down thirty degrees!” The ship started to turn and descend relative to the Enkarran vessel, but it was too little, too late. The first torpedo hit the Corona right on the nose. Faster than the most powerful ship, it barreled through the outer hull before any of the Corona’s defensive shielding was strong enough to impede its progress. Then, in its final moment, its combat computer completed the command that it eagerly awaited and would relentlessly pursue- it detonated inside its enemy, shredding the front of the ship where it had just entered. The explosion blew out into space, burning off any available oxygen and setting off electrical fires. The next one penetrated higher on the forward dorsal area, with similar results. The next two were detonated by the just-raised shields, though the energy released still washed over the bow of the stricken vessel.

  On the bridge, chaos took over. The main display screen filled with constantly scrolling targeting vectors on the Enkarran ship, battle info, and ship status, while the holographic display showed the Corona drifting backwards from the Enkarran ship. The second torpedo caused a power surge that took the path of least resistance- right to the bridge. In an instant, the port turbolift and adjoining side of the walkway was dark and silent.

  “What the hell are they doing? Communications,” yelled Salles, “open a frequency! Weapons, was that a malfunction, or did they just deliberately fire on us?”

  “Unable to tell, Captain. Should we return fire?”

  It took Salles a second to ponder that. Time in fact seemed to slow down for a second- he realized it was one of those pivotal moments where his decisions would affect many lives other than his own. Here he was, struck by four torpedoes, his ship damaged, main power fluctuating so badly that backups were engaged, and he couldn’t find out what was going on.

  “Captain,” Salles heard from behind him, “all communications are being jammed! We can’t get a message out.” That was it- time to take control. The Enkarrans had made his mind up for him.

  “Weapons, unlock all batteries. Tell all gunners to fire at will. This situation is getting out of control.” He paused and turned to the Communications officer. “Encode a message beacon with our situation and a distress call and fire towards Confed space.” He barely got the words out before Weapons interrupted again.

  “We’re in range of their primary laser batteries. They’re moving in!” Then the first shots hit. Their force was diminished by the Corona’s shields, but the battle was a lopsided one. Outgunned at the very first, the Corona was now in dire straits. The sound of the laser impacts reverberating through the hull reminded Salles of a swift drum beat.

  “They’re passing us,” yelled his XO as another volley rocked the Pulsar. “Looks like they’re trying to get behind to hit the engines.” The jolt to the ship knocked a crewman standing in the back of the bridge off balance, causing him to crash into the Ensign at Sensors. Both officers fell to the deck in a heap.

  “Sir, starboard side weapons batteries aren’t firing, the power relay’s been hit. We’re attempting to bypass! The point defense systems have been destroyed as well.” The loss of the point defense systems meant that there would be no attempts to shoot down or use countermeasures to defeat any more incoming torpedoes.

  “Evasive maneuvers! Keep our undamaged side towards their ship, angle shields towards them, and for Galaxy’s sake don’t let them get a shot at our engines! Full speed ahead- let’s try and outrun them after the turn,” yelled Salles while the Executive Officer ran back to the weapons station to check on the firing of his ships’ armaments. Running was a hopeless gesture, but they’d be damned if they just sat there and waited for the Enkarrans to finish them off.

  Then Salles felt the reassuring kick of Corona firing its main laser batteries, finally operational after the first Enkarran hits had destroyed the main gun director. Only the port side guns were operational, but he’d take what he could get right now. The gunners selected and locked in targets on the Enkarran ship, but the larger ship’s shields were too powerful for the Corona’s guns to punch through, especially on auxiliary power. As a result of this battle damage, their fire was sporadic and not nearly concentrated enough to do much more than burn a few of the enemy’s hull plates.

  The Drisk ensign at Sensors, now back in her chair, informed Captain Salles of this dark turn of events, just as another round of torpedoes hit them with such violence that people were thrown from their positions and viewscreen glass broke from the shock. “It would take a battleship’s generators to punch a signal through this jamming, Captain,” was one of the last things Salles heard. He wasn’t even sure who said it.

  Hull breaches from the torpedoes and laser batteries marked the surface of the Corona. Her ineffectual shields could no longer stop the enemy barrage. Oxygen and fire streamed from her interior as hull plates and components were shed into space. Even before that last barrage, the Corona was a doomed ship. The latest impacts merely worked to seal the ship’s fate that much faster.

  The bridge was almost completely dark, lit by electrical sparks and one small fire. The ship was a shambles, and Salles knew it was almost over. Why have they done this? was his last thought before fiery oblivion engulfed the bridge.

  It took twelve more minutes for the Corona to become completely still. Then, the Enkarran cruiser finished it off with pinpoint laser fire. The Enkarran Navy had started to make a hole into Confederation space in an engagement that only the victors knew the true value
of. In fact, only the victors even knew that they had just started a war.

  He peered around the corner slowly, his blaster raised. Through the haze, he saw his target. The reptilian creatures were holding the girl at gunpoint, looking for a way out of the crowded old warehouse. Dusty old wooden and plastic crates formed a confusing maze that made it hard to keep track of where one had been and where one was. He had counted five of them, and he had a full energy charge. Now or never, he thought. He closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath, brought his blaster up, and charged. He burst around the corner, precise shots kicking out of the blaster. As the energy charge in a blaster built up, it was held by magnetic fields until the moment the trigger was pulled, at which point the charge was released, thus causing the gun’s small recoil. Precision military training kicked in and he double tapped three of the villains right off, but the other two ducked into the shelter of the crates, taking the girl with them. He could hear her screams as she was dragged away, echoing through the dark recesses of the building. The maze caused sounds to echo entirely too much to be of any use, and it was hard to tell which way to run. He couldn’t let them find a way out, and time was getting short. He sensed movement to his right and had his arm up and the gun pointed at his target even before his head was turned to look. A split second later he saw it was the boss, holding the girl in front of him like a coward. It was a standoff; he had his blaster aimed at its head, while the creature had a smaller solid projectile pistol held to the girl’s. Okay, head shot. Steady… he thought to himself. At that second, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, expecting to find the other henchman. Instead, he saw nothing.

  “Alright Loren, time to go. We’ve waited long enough,” he heard a disembodied voice, not quite part of his surroundings, and yet directed at him as if from a deity above.