Warrior, p.1
Warrior, page 1
part #2 of Legacy Fleet Series
Contents
Title
Dedication
Front Matter
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Chapter Eighty-Five
Chapter Eighty-Six
Ebook Backmatter
Warrior
Book 2
Of
The Legacy Fleet Trilogy
For J., L., and C.
Reading Order
of the Legacy Fleet Series:
Constitution
Warrior
Victory
Independence
Defiance (coming early 2017)
Liberty (coming early 2017)
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Legacy Fleet Extended Universe
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Other books by Nick Webb
The Pax Humana Saga:
1: The Terran Gambit
2: Chains of Destiny
3: Into the Void
4: The Sons of Oberon (coming 2017)
Chapter One
New Dublin, Eyre Sector
Planetary Command Center
Governor Wolfram wrung his hands nervously. Sweat beaded on his shiny forehead but he didn’t even bother wiping it. Power was being diverted away from luxuries like air conditioning to more useful things like planetary shielding and orbital plasma-particle beams.
They were coming.
And fast, he noticed, watching the flurry of large dots on the tactical readout, each indicating a massive Swarm carrier, all likely full of thousands of fighters, rapidly approaching the inner system defenses.
“Any response yet from CENTCOM?” he barked at the admiral huddled with his commanders near the tactical station.
From his tight smile and furrowed brow, Governor Wolfram could tell the admiral was annoyed. “No, sir. We only just sent out the meta-space distress call an hour ago. We’re expecting a response any moment now.” Admiral Azbill resumed the coordination of the New Dublin planetary fleet defenses.
Wolfram nodded, and turned back to the tactical readout nearby. Ten ships. Ten. The fleet that had attacked Earth just over two months ago had numbered ten, too. A first wave of six, followed closely by four more. In all the Swarm incursions since that battle, they’d only sent in smaller strike forces now that they knew Earth knew how to fight back. Two ships here, three there, always striking at smaller settlements on fringe worlds where they were assured a quick victory and a sharp, devastating raid before they melted away, disappearing to whatever star systems they were originating from.
But New Dublin was not on the periphery, and ten ships meant they were coming for blood. This was the real deal.
He wrung his hands again, and watched as the last defense outpost about halfway out to the nearest planet—a handful of automated laser turrets mounted to a smattering of small asteroids orbiting their sun—disappeared from the tactical readout, and the flurry of large dots resumed their course to New Dublin.
Less than an hour away.
There was no hope. If CENTCOM was only now receiving and responding to the meta-space distress call there would never be enough time to dispatch a rescue force.
They were doomed. In one hour. With ten Swarm ships incoming, there was no way any city or town on New Dublin would survive. Their planetary defense fleet was simply no match for that much firepower.
He’d often wondered why the Swarm came at a planet with conventional inertial thrusters, rather than q-jump all the way into a system. Q-jumping would give their targets far less time to assemble and organize any sort of defense. But Admiral Azbill, the IDF commander in charge of the New Dublin force, assured him it was not because of any sort of technical shortcomings on the Swarm’s part.
No, he believed they did it to sow fear and terror in their victims. Let them see you coming for hours. Let them stew in their own juices, painfully aware that their end was coming very, very soon. Let them run around in a frenzy, inciting confusion and distress in the population, allowing for maximum disorder and mayhem and destruction when the Swarm finally arrived.
Why would the Swarm do this? Why would they care? Nobody knew. Nobody seemed to know anything about them, as far as he could tell.
How could you fight an enemy you knew nothing about?
The blood drained from his face as a new dot suddenly appeared on the tactical screen, just a hundred thousand kilometers from New Dublin. Damn. Maybe they’d changed their tactics. Were they sending in an advance warship to soften them up before the main body of their fleet arrived?
The new dot swooped in, terribly fast, toward a low orbit.
It was massive. The energy readings coming off the ship indicated it was charging weapons and preparing for a fight. Wolfram’s stomach tensed. The end would come sooner, rather than later, it seemed.
He heard a whoop off to the side, and snapped his head toward the officer who’d made the sound, bouncing excitedly at his station. The comm station.
“Admiral! It’s the Warrior! It’s Granger himself!”
Admiral Azbill’s face immediately transformed from that of a grim, harried commander to an expression of something Governor Wolfram had not seen in quite some time.
Hope.
“Amazing,” Wolfram muttered. “He’s managed to assemble his strike force and get here already? But where are his other ships?”
Admiral Azbill shrugged. “Patch him through.”
A few moments later, the officer at comm nodded. “You’re on, Admiral. We’ve got visual, too.”
“This is Admiral Azbill of New Dublin Planetary Command. That you, Granger?” They all turned to the viewscreen covering half of one of the walls.
An image of an older man, his faced lined and dark bags sagging under his eyes, snapped onto the screen. And in spite of the lines and scars and obvious signs of months of battle, he was smiling.
“Good to see you, Azbill. I understand you’re in need of some assistance?”
Admiral Azbill gave a hollow laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Granger’s smile widened. “Well then, let’s get this party started. I’d like to send one of my people down to you to help coordinate and integrate with operations on the Warrior . You’ve got your planetary defense fleet assembled, I presume? We’re going to need them.”
Azbill hesitated. “Captain, where’s your strike force? They coming in right behind you?”
Granger shook his head. Oddly enough though, his smile deepened. Governor Wolfram felt his stomach tighten. No fleet?
“The Swarm is putting us through the wringer today. Three separate incursions. I’ve sent my fleet on to the Johannesburg Sector to deal with the four Swarm ships there, and Admiral Zingano from CENTCOM is personally dealing with a Swarm raid in the Centauri System with the strike force based at Sol.”
Azbill’s back stiffened. “Am I to understand, sir, that you’re it? No one else is coming?” Governor Wolfram thought it odd that an admiral was addressing a captain as sir . Was the man’s reputation and mythos that powerful? Granger had become something of a legend in the past two months, as he was able to repel invasion after deadly invasion. The man seemed to have a knack for dealing with the Swarm.
Not to mention his inexplicable return from the dead. The Constitution had disappeared—the satellite cameras had broadcast the event to the entire Earth. One moment she crashed and disappeared into a singularity, taking out three Swarm carriers with it, and the next moment she’d reappeared, careening through the atmosphere.
“That’s right, Admiral. The Warrior ’s it.”
Silence fell on the previously busy command center. He heard an officer cough nervously behind him. One ship? Wolfram thought. One ship against ten swarm carriers! The man is mad.
Admiral Azbill was becoming agitated. “Granger, is this a joke? Your fleet is right behind you, I hope, for all our sakes. In case CENTCOM didn’t update you, we’ve got ten Swarm carriers incoming. Ten. ”
Granger leaned in slightly to the viewscreen. “No joke, Azbill. They’ve got ten carriers. But we’ve got your entire planetary defense fleet, one ISS Warrior … and one me. ” Governor Wolfram almost missed it, but Granger actually winked at them. The man had style. And balls. “I’d say the odds are about even.”
Chapter Two
New Dublin, Eyre Sector
Bridge, ISS Warrior
Captain Granger nodded toward the comm officer on duty to cut the transmission, and swiveled his chair to face Proctor.
“You ready, Commander?”
She nodded, and stood up to leave. “I’ll get down there right away.”
It was always painful to have her leave—fighting without Proctor was like tying your good arm behind your back during a fist fight—but he needed the coordination with the surface forces only she could provide. The woman had a knack for getting things done—quickly and efficiently. And besides, excluding himself, she had the most experience fighting the Swarm. Her capabilities would be the most valuable directing the response of the rest of the defense forces planet-side.
He swiveled back to his station. “Should be just like Tau Ceti,” he said. “Swarm’ll never know what hit them.”
She paused at the door. “Tim, this is hardly like Tau Ceti. We fought four ships there. We’ve got ten incoming.”
“But New Dublin’s defense force is far more capable than Tau Ceti’s.”
“True,” she conceded.
He glanced over at the tactical station, motioning to Lieutenant Diaz, the tactical officer, to join him. “Don’t worry, Commander. The bastards will never know what hit them. This time tomorrow we’ll be back to planning Operation Battle-ax.”
Proctor stayed at the door a moment longer, then left. He knew what she wanted to say: You’re being too cocky, Tim . She’d warned him several times over the last few weeks. She thought he was being too overconfident. Too brash.
And the truth was, he felt it. His confidence brimmed over, and he knew, he just knew he was going to crush those bastards. Ever since he’d woken up on Proctor’s shoulder as she carried him down to engineering in a flaming Constitution careening through the atmosphere. Ever since the cancer had left.
Ever since those missing three days. Or fifteen seconds, depending on how one looked at it.
Somehow, the miraculous nature of the circumstances, and the fact that he and Proctor had almost single-handedly saved Earth, granted him the knowledge that they’d be ok. They would survive. More than survive: they’d win so convincingly that the Swarm would either never attack them again, or be wiped out so utterly that the win would amount to a genocide. And Granger was ok with that. That vague feeling, that voice in the back of his head, it gave him confidence. Swagger.
He didn’t stifle the swagger. On the contrary, he flaunted it. His people ate it up. They needed it. Craved it. And in the aftermath of the invasion of Earth, he’d gained—and cultivated—an almost legendary status. The Hero of Earth . He found that by acting the part of the legend, his people responded in kind with legendary performance. He acted the part for them . They wanted a hero? Then, by god, he’d give them one, if it meant the Swarm would be destroyed and humanity saved.
“Helm, report.”
Ensign Prince, whose red, raw face just recently emerged from the bandages that had covered the severe burns he suffered during the previous week’s engagement with the Swarm, cocked his head to the side in answer. “Assuming a low orbit. We’ll be swinging around the limb of the horizon just as the Swarm arrives, sir.”
“Perfect.” He glanced to the side. “Tactical?”
“All mag rails primed and ready.”
“Any more trouble with the new ones they installed last maintenance?”
IDF had upgraded the Warrior with over one hundred new mag rail guns, more than doubling her complement. That meant over five hundred new crew members to manage and worry about, but it was well worth the extra firepower.
“All power conduits are reading normal. Looks like Rayna’s got them all under control.”
A voice chimed over the comm system. “Cap’n, my baby’s ready for you. Treat her nice or I’ll be grumpy tomorrow.”
Speak of the devil. He cleared his throat and raised his head. “Thank you, Commander Scott. Your baby’s my baby.”
“Uh, sir?” He could hear the smirk in her voice. “I’m a married woman.”
“You can’t marry a ship, Rayna. Granger out.” He smiled and swatted at the comm button. He glanced at the new communications officer, a young man straight out of the Academy. Top of the class. Ensign Prucha. “Is Proctor down there yet?”
Prucha checked his console, and nodded. “Just arrived a moment ago.”
“Good. Once you two have a system link set up, we can get this show on the road.”
He checked the status board, confirming that all crews were ready for combat. One more senior officer to report in….
As if on cue, a patrician British voice chimed over the comm: “Captain Granger, all fighter crews ready.”
“All four hundred? I’m still amazed you found a way to pack that many in there, Commander Pierce.”
The CAG’s calming accent contained the smallest quiver. “Desperation is the father of genius, sir.” He hesitated. “Will we be deploying all fighters this time around?”
Pierce, while being the best CAG Granger had ever served with, still hadn’t recovered from the loss of his father, who’d commanded a British warship before encountering the initial Swarm invasion force. Or was it deeper than that? Could it be that the other man just couldn’t live with losing his pilots? As Captain, Granger knew it was never easy: they lost a handful of people in every engagement. The Flight Academy could hardly keep up with the attrition rate. Granger could understand the man’s concern.
But this was not a time for hesitation. “All fighters, Commander. Will that be a problem?”
A brief silence on the other end. “No problem, sir. All fighter squadrons reporting ready.”
“Good. Granger out.” He thumbed the comm off.
He gripped his armrests, suppressing the rising tension. Playing the part of swaggering hero for his people was one thing. Fooling himself that the upcoming battle would be a cakewalk was another entirely. This would be the battle of his life, and while he was confident they would prevail, he knew he’d lose people. A lot of people. And New Dublin would face heavy casualties, too. It was unavoidable. War was hell, and modern space warfare was fiery, brutal hell on an epic scale.
