Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Invasion Page 2

  “Dammit, give me a minute just once in a while!” Loren said as he pulled off the lightweight helmet. The virtual world disappeared, and with it his top-ten score at the game. “Can’t you wait until I’m done?” He asked of his two friends as he stepped off the gaming platform, dropping the cyberweapon onto its small table. The gaming platform, and a dozen more like it, was located along the back wall of the building, in a section that housed virtual games, holoscreens, and sit-down table games featuring cards, holographic figures, and a few reading panels.

  “Actually, no. Shuttle’s leaving, and we have to be there, remember?” The taller of the two intruders said. He was Commander Merritt Elder, one of two section leaders of the fighter wing from the CCS Avenger. “Don’t you remember the days when you had to chauffeur others around?” He joked to his friend and CAG/Air Wing skipper, Loren Stone, Captain Second Rank. A qualified Pilot-In-Command that served as a CAG, even of small fighter craft, held the rank of Captain. The captain of a ship, on the other hand, was referred to as a Captain First Rank, though the additions to the title of First and Second Rank were only used when there were multiple Captains present.

  “Oh, those were the good old days.” Loren replied. “Having to worry about departure times and arrival clearances was such a pain. Now, I have you,” he joked.

  “In any case, shore leave is about to expire, so we better head out if we don’t want the skipper to beat us when we finally do show up,” replied the third man in the group, Commander Web Exeter. He was part of the group, but new enough that he didn’t want to push it yet with anyone of higher rank- his fighter wing comrades or the ship’s captain.

  “So, did you two manage to insult or destroy anything last night?” Loren asked Merritt.

  “No, it was pretty tame. A couple of us from the squadron sat around and solved the galaxy’s problems over a few mugs of the local brew. And believe me, that stuff will never make the galactic market. It tastes like drive coolant.”

  Loren ran his eyes quickly over the bar/entertainment center as they turned to head towards the exit. While this was a friendly enough place to Confed and visitors in general, he took it upon himself to never let his guard down. His gaze swept across two humans, male and female, sitting at the bar and watching a sports match on one of the large screens at the top of the wall where the three pilots were. He couldn’t make out the sport or even the object of the game, as it seemingly involved the players from opposing teams tacking and hitting each other regardless of whether they possessed the game ball or not.

  “I would have thought you’d be spending time with Corinne.” Loren remarked as they walked into the pit of tables in the center of the large room. This was where the patrons who wanted food and refreshment sat, the owners no doubt hoping that their time spent in the center viewing all the other customers having fun would inspire the table dwellers to do the same.

  “Yeah, we had talked about it, but she and the squadron people who stuck around here took the new guys and gals out to ‘bond’ as a squadron. It’s all about building trust and comradeship, you know.”

  “I’m sure. They’re not locked up or anything, are they? We’ll need someone to fly the attack ships, after all.”

  “No, I don’t think they violated any galactic laws, at least. Local ones, maybe. We go to so many different places, it’s hard to keep track.”

  “Hey you two,” Loren started as they weaved through the tables. “Did you notice the young couple halfway down the bar on the far end? Sipping drinks but riveted by the game on the monitors? Not staring at each other the way a couple should be, just staring at the vids?”

  Neither looked at the people Loren mentioned, instead trying to brush up on their own countersurveillance skills.

  “Sorry, I’ve been slacking,” replied Merritt.

  “I saw them,” responded Web. “Not really engaged in a conversation the way coworkers would be, but not staring lovingly into each others’ eyes the way Merritt and Cory do, right?” He didn’t stop to check Merritt’s reaction to see if the other pilot caught the subtle barb. “Seems a little out of place. Cause for concern?”

  “I doubt it,” Loren said. “My guess is they’re doing surveillance, probably on us. If I had to make a guess, I’d say they’re from Avenger’s security force doing a little real-world shadowing. Not doing a very good job at it, if that’s the case.”

  “Of course, maybe we’re supposed to notice them so we don’t notice the real guys shadowing us.”

  “Point taken.”

  “So, should we interfere with their studies?”

  “Web, you’re so eager to cause trouble for others. I like that about you.” Loren smiled. “But we’ll play nice this time, though we’ll double back a few times on the way to the terminal, cross a few crowded intersections, and make sure to stay on main avenues. Just make sure you call Avenger when we get to the shuttle and ask if there are any security teams down here. Then we’ll know. And if that’s the case and they chose us, we’ll have to pay them back in a suitable fashion once we’re out in space.”

  They walked out the door without incident, though as they passed Merritt caught them looking at him, so he made kissing gestures to them both. They looked away instantly, and he figured Loren had called it right.

  They emerged into the bright daylight of a sunny afternoon, blue skies and comfortable temperature welcoming them to the outdoors.

  “Well, time to start trying to act responsible again. So, I turn my trouble making duties over to you two,” said Loren, making theatrical gestures over his friends’ heads, including several that would be considered insults on most planets.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll behave this time. Really,” replied Merritt.

  They were about to leave the planet Eras, the site of their last shore leave before their rotation took their ship, the CCS Avenger, out to the Rim, in advance of a carrier battle group. Having just finished their tour of the Expansion Zone, the crew was rested and ready for the increased challenge that lay ahead. After the Rim, it was back to the Core worlds to start the three-stage patrol tour all over again. They left the arcade/bar and walked down the paved street, hovercars whizzing by overhead. Eras was one of the last tourist planets out this way, and they catered to, well, everyone. With a very transient population, the place was always changing, and most of the time it was for the better. Buildings of every style were present- some that loomed up into the skies, as well as some buildings that contained most of their usable space underground. Densely populated, mature planets closer to the Core of Confed space tended to have cities that soared skyward, with buildings hundreds of stories high, multiple ‘ground’ levels and a very urban population. Eras, with plenty of room, had expanded outward in its’ initial surge, as was the norm. The city sprawled out haphazardly, but the variety was what made Loren appreciate it.

  Unlike the more established worlds at the core of the Confederation, Eras was a newly colonized planet, with no true intelligent indigenous inhabitants. Therefore, everything was recognizable in some form or another, since it was imported by someone who had brought it with them to the planet. It would be some decades before the planet’s culture really started to evolve into something distinct. For now, from the neon bar signs to restaurants to shops of every kind, nobody would get bored on this planet. Everyone except me, thought Merritt. I wonder if Corinne’s headed back yet? His thoughts kept him distracted enough to accidentally walk into Loren when the group stopped for a large antigrav barge that was crossing the street in front of them.

  “Hey there, what’s up?” asked Web. “You’ve been on autopilot for a couple of blocks now.”

  “Oh, just wondering if Cory’s back on the ship yet,” replied Merritt.

  “I swear, you two are the oddest damn pair I’ve ever seen.” said Loren. “One day you two are ready to fight a competition to the death, the next day you’re trying to decide whose quarters to…”

  “Yeah, I know, but that’s what keeps it inte
resting. Besides, you’re married; you don’t need to worry about these things. Damn, what do you do with all that spare time?” Merritt joked to Loren.

  Loren just grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Just about the same as you though, Loren thought wistfully, think about seeing my other half again. Duty and craving for adventure notwithstanding, Loren always had his wife on his mind and would probably not be a lifer in the service. He wanted to spend more time with her- she deserved that, and sooner or later he’d have his fill of excitement.

  The pilots walked along the semi-crowded streets. It was early evening, and the afternoon traffic had already reached a crescendo and begun to decline an hour ago, which left the streets comfortable to walk along. One still had to be careful enough exactly where one walked, because you never knew when you were ‘invading’ the personal space of a creature that was just a little too territorial, which thankfully didn’t happen all that much on the crowded main streets. Not that anyone would be eager to pick the trio of pilots as a likely target for anything aggressive. Tall, well exercised humans, who more importantly wore their standard issue personal blasters, they nevertheless were determined to avoid any trouble. Wearing of personal weapons among the general populace was not very common in the Core worlds, though in the Expansion Zone and Rim you would see sidearms occasionally on those who held a license to do so. More often than not it was just as much for show as it was for actual use. No matter where in the galaxy you lived, if you shot people on a regular basis, you eventually would suffer for your indiscretions. However, in the Confederation military, it was a tradition dating back since its founding for aviators, troops, and command personnel to wear sidearms, which suited these flyers just fine. It also helped that everyone knew most individual sidearms were DNA coded to their bearers and wouldn’t fire for anyone else.

  The group continued towards their rendezvous point, the largest spaceport on the planet. Already they could see a few of the Avenger’s transports leaving the pads, obviously full of crewmembers who also were committed to enjoying every last minute of leave on the planet before they disappeared into space. The starport was typical of everything else in the city- lots of colors, architectural styles, races of beings, and noises and odors that not every sentient being would call their favorite. They had their I.D. tags displayed on their uniforms, and after a short check at the gates were waved through to the launch area. The planet had a temperate enough climate that they wore only their CCS uniforms. The top was a gray colored, layered affair, of a jacket type design. Standard gray pants and black boots completed the uniform. Status was conveyed by means of rank insignia and the color of the highlights on the uniform. All of the pilots wore white highlights, being officers and in command positions.

  At long last, they finally arrived at their launchpad. Awaiting them was their Freedom class transport. It had an aerodynamically clean fuselage, being generally intended for atmospheric flights. Able to carry 50 fully armed assault troops or three standard cargo pallets, it was a versatile design. It had rather short, symmetric, high mounted wings with a large sweep angle, similar tail surfaces, and a vertical stabilizer assembly that could be raised while in atmosphere. These were a concession to the Freedom’s role of inter-atmospheric transport, used for stability only. Its two long engines, mounted under the wings against the fuselage, were more than powerful enough to blast it straight up into space. But that would make the passengers nervous. The pilots filtered into the line of Avenger crewmembers heading out onto the launch area, and boarded the craft. In no time they had settled into their customary positions, expert eyes watching not only their responsibilities, but keeping an eye on everyone else, too. Crewmembers began boarding soon after they were aboard. Shortly after that, they heard Web’s voice from the cockpit, as he and the copilot spun up the transports’ engines with their characteristic jet engine whine.

  “Welcome to Confederation Airlines Flight One. I’ll be your captain on this lovely trip to the Avenger,” announced Web over the intercom from the pilot’s seat, as he readied the transport for takeoff while the copilot checked the passenger manifest against the people in back who had signed in. “Please turn over all valuables to the flight crew…”

  He continued, but Merritt and Loren were already hard at work, getting back into the routine of running a fighter wing, carrying on a discussion in the jumpseats just behind the cockpit.

  “I volunteer to discuss with Commander Sosus the issue of getting her attack wing and our fighter wing out on some maneuvers once we leave port,” said Merritt to Loren with a great smile plastered on his face.

  “You just can’t wait to get back at Corinne, can you?” replied Stone. He looked at Merritt and saw the gleam in his eyes that set him apart from so many people Loren knew. “Oh well, good luck. You’ve got that assignment.” Loren leaned closer. “Just remember, she is still a superior officer.”

  “I know, but power turns me on!” Merritt flashed a very handsome smile, and Loren wondered how Corinne could resist his charms

  Loren grinned. Damn, being married had its good points. On the positive side, he had found his soulmate, and he was absolutely sure that there was no other for him. On the negative side, however, there was no more thrill of the chase that seemed to keep Merritt going, not that Loren had felt himself very good at the pursuit of the opposite sex anyway.

  Loren and Merritt had become fast friends after being assigned to Avenger, though to look at them it wouldn’t be so obvious. Clean shaven and with close cropped hair, Loren stood tall and a little bit on the lean side, always striving to look like the fighter wing commander he so much loved to be. Born and raised on one of the core worlds of the Confederation, Stone had been exposed to Confed and galactic politics at an early age. He had signed up to see the galaxy that he had heard about so often as a child, and learned to love the adventure and ideals shared by many of his comrades.

  Merritt, on the other hand, was another story. He was the only son of parents that ran a small asteroid mining company. He had never stayed put for long, and didn’t have anyplace he thought of as home. His goal had been to not become a third generation miner, and got out of the asteroid mining business as soon as he could; Confed allowed him to do that while still enabling him to stay out of the atmosphere. He liked to try and personalize his appearance as much as possible. This included wearing a standard issue flight jacket over his uniform almost all the time.

  The new addition to their group was Web Exeter, a section commander like Merritt. With a physique still bearing evidence of recent training during his section commander upgrade classes, (jokingly referred to as ‘Charm School’ by those who had endured it) Exeter joined them for their Expansion Zone tour, and had quickly become not only associates but also good friends with the two other officers. He had also made quick friends with another of the pilots, a Drisk who now had a running speed draw competition going with him. Web at times seemed more interested in ground tactics and combat than flying, but he was a natural pilot and would spend his career doing nothing else. He had even gone so far as to get dual qualified in the transport that they were flying, in addition to the fighter he manned.

  Loren Stone ran the fighter wing of the Avenger, and Commander Corinne Sosus, the woman of Merritt’s dreams, ran the attack wing. They each had two section commanders under them, and together they decided how to use the fighter/bomber craft aboard the ship.

  Under Web’s expert hand, the shuttle made a smooth lift-off and was soon angling out of the planet’s atmosphere. This just could be the last time any of the crew would breathe natural oxygen for two months. At the top of the shuttle’s climb, Web was handed off from planetary control to Avenger approach control. From there, his course was identified and he was assigned an approach vector to the port side landing bay.

  The Avenger was an awesome sight. Just a tad larger than a cruiser, almost as mean looking as a battleship, it was one of the new and already revered Crusader class hunter/killers, and an icon
of the power projection theory of military might. Sleek, sharklike, and painted black, the ship embraced the very concept of the Confederation’s high tech military abilities. It didn’t look as scary here, moored to a spacedock with all its exterior lights on, shuttles passing in front of the forward weapons arrays that would normally be the cone of most concentrated fire. ‘The area of maximum badness’, was what some called it. But in a short while, the lights would go off, the traffic-both communications and mechanical- would stop, and the Avenger would gracefully slide out of its berth and into the blackness of deep space. From then on, you weren’t likely to find it unless it was firing on you. The joke on the ship was that it had a noble name, but nothing to ‘avenge’. In any case, this ship, and others of its’ class, were born of the idea of hunting out enemy ships where they felt safe. It was the ultimate case for stealth- an enemy could be patrolling its space one minute; the next, there were torpedoes active with fighter/bombers swarming all around. These ships also served very effectively in the power-projection role, often disarming a situation without having to open hostilities. And every last crew member was proud to be on this elite ship. That alone was one of the greater reasons to treat the Avenger with respect. If you messed with her, you messed with the crew.

  In a hangar level briefing room, Captain Sirian Elco was giving an abbreviated briefing to his bridge crew.

  “And above those routine patrol duties, we have two extra tasks assigned to us. One is to attend the commissioning of a new border station in the Andreas Cluster. We should get there just as it gets towed in. Now, the second is more… sensitive.” He looked around, glancing at each crewmember in turn. “Three weeks ago, all contact with the destroyer Corona was lost. Confed has no idea what has happened to her. This in itself wouldn’t normally be the cause for concern it is now. However, probes and intelligence sources tell us of an increased Enkarran military presence in their territory adjacent to ours. Now, they haven’t tried to provoke us outright in two decades, but Fleet wants us to know we should be vigilant. Our orders for this mission are therefore a little more flexible than they have been in the past.”