Escape of the Relentless

  Escape of the Relentless

  Brian Dorsey

  Copyright © 2018 by Brian Dorsey

  www.mountaineerwest.com

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

  Chapter One

  The metallic rattle of the Captain’s call circuit woke him.

  Commander Kal Catton sat up in his bunk. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he looked at the time: 0200 Standard. “Damn it,” he cursed, running his hands over his face. But that was the life of a commanding officer; sleep was as much a myth as a griffon — although a griffon might exist on some yet undiscovered planet.

  The communications panel buzzed again.

  “What is it OOD?” he asked.

  “Sir, this is Ensign Indal, Officer of the Deck. It is 0200 Standard and I have a report.”

  “Very well,” he said. “Continue.”

  “Yes, sir. We just received a distress call on the Royal Military Channel.”

  The fog of sleep evaporated. “From what vessel?” asked Catton. “We’re the only ship in this sector.”

  “From Dreadnought Thunder, sir.”

  “Thunder?” Catton stood, grabbing his uniform. Thunder was a first-class ship of the line. There was no reason for it be on the frontier.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Notify OPS and WEPS. Have them meet me in Combat,” ordered Catton. “And the XO too.”

  “Aye, sir. Lieutenant Stazi has been informed. I will contact the XO and Lieutenant Drake.”

  “Very well, OOD.” Catton pressed another button on his screen marked Combat.

  “CIC, Ensign Croan, sir,” came the reply.

  “CICWO, station the TAO.”

  “Station the Tactical Action Officer, aye, sir,” replied Ensign Croan.

  Still buttoning his tunic, Catton exited his stateroom and briskly walked the short distance to Combat. He’d expected nothing but run-ins with pirates and a few inspections of Runan trade ships. Duty on the frontier had been his unspoken sentence … a place for him to do his penance.

  The doors slid open and he entered Combat.

  Catton was greeted by his Operations Officer, Lieutenant Ran Stazi. “Good morning, Captain,” said Stazi. “The OOD and the comms watch have updated me on the situation.”

  “Captain,” came a voice from behind Catton.

  He turned to see his Weapons Officer, Lieutenant Drake.

  “I was told to report to Combat.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” replied Catton. “Lieutenant Stazi?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Stazi. “At 0153 we received a distress signal on imperial military channel four from the Dreadnought Thunder.”

  “A dreadnought?” asked the Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Halstrom, as he joined the group.

  “Yes, XO,” continued Stazi. “We traced the message to this sector, so it has been sent recently. It seems to have been initiated from near Zala Three.”

  “So you’re telling me a capital class ship is in this sector and no one informed us?” asked Catton.

  “It appears so, sir. I doubled checked our message traffic; there has been no mention of other ships in the area.”

  “Is our electron spin message suite up, yet?”

  “No, sir,” answered Stazi. “I’ve had my guys working on it for a week but Chief Eran doesn’t think we will get it up and running until we are able to get the right card. He and Senior Chief Lupo are trying to build one but haven’t been successful.”

  “I guess they should’ve given us the spare parts we asked for when we were in dock at Ida-Ra,” grumbled Lieutenant Drake.

  “Frigates are too far down on the maintenance list, WEPS,” replied the XO. “Especially for one protecting a few traders from pirates.”

  Catton clinched his teeth. His XO was right; independent patrol frigates were lucky to just get enough food and avoid hull breaches at the beginning of a mission, let alone having everything work. “Nothing on RADIUS either?”

  “I checked with CICWO and nothing has shown up on our sweeps except two trading ships. Definitely nothing with military identification codes.”

  Catton sank into the Captain’s chair reserved for him in Combat. “So we’ve got a distress signal on military channels claiming to be from a dreadnought that isn’t supposed to be here and wasn’t radiating any identification codes?” asked the Halstrom.

  “I can’t explain it,” answered Stazi, “but yes, sir.”

  Catton sat in silent contemplation. The Runan Empire had been sending independent patrols into the Zala system for the last year while it negotiated a trade and settlement agreement with the Qua-la Regime. The first meeting between the Runan and Qua-la had resulted in a short but violent war when Catton was a lieutenant, and even though both sides used the Zala system as a sparing ground, no major battles had taken place in over seven standard years.

  “Well, we can’t ignore it,” said Catton, breaking his silence. He turned toward the newly stationed Tactical Action Officer. “TAO, pass the word to set condition three watches and have the bridge prepare for FTL jump in one hour to the point of the distress signal.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the TAO.

  “XO,” said Catton. “I want all Department Heads, including Lieutenants Pi-ce and Wren, in the wardroom in ten minutes.”

  ***

  The rumble of voices evaporated as Catton walked into the wardroom.

  “Attention on Deck!” shouted Lieutenant Commander Halstrom.

  “Everyone take a seat,” said Catton, stopping at the head of the table. “Senior Chief Gruta is briefing the chiefs at this time as well, so your senior enlisted will have the same information I am giving you. Except your Marines, Lieutenant Pi-ce. I’ll leave that to you.”

  “Aye, sir,” replied Lieutenant Pi-ce. Her fierce red eyes and greenish-yellow hair, tied into two thick braids, set her apart from the other officers in the room. Her features, including the large, muscular frame, were common to inhabitants of the planet Harda. These physical characteristics, along with the civilization’s almost fanatic warrior code, were the reasons all Runan Empire Marines were Hardian warriors.

  “Here’s the situation,” continued Catton. “We have received a distress signal from a Runan warship in our sector.” He held his hand to quiet the rumbling that followed. “I have no information why another ship is in this sector, but it appears to have come from a dreadnought class ship.”

  “How is a dreadnought in this sector and we don’t know about it, sir?” asked Lieutenant Commander Tandra Braca, the Chief Engineer.

  “They weren’t radiating normal idents and weren’t communicating on normal channels,” replied Catton. “Their last position seems to be near Zala Three, so we’re gonna go check it out.”

  “Do we know anything about the threat?” asked Lieutenant Wren, the senior flight officer in charge of Relentless’ complement of two fighters and two transports.

  “We don’t. Our electron spin suite is still down and we haven’t received any messages through normal traffic. All we know is that we picked up a signal over the military distress channel that seems to be from the Thunder. Given how little we know, we will set General Quarters in fifteen minutes and prepare for a combat FTL jump in …” Catton looked at his watch. “… twenty-five minutes. Are there any questions?” Catton looked around the room. “Dismissed,” he ordered, and the Department Heads began to disperse.

  The last to leave was Lieutenant Pi-
ce.

  As the tall Marine neared the exit, Catton stopped her. “I want your team to be ready to go, Lieutenant. It might get hot.”

  Pi-ce smiled, a flash of excitement twinkling in her red eyes. “That’s what we’re here for, sir.”

  ***

  Commander Catton sat in his chair in Combat as his departments reported their readiness.

  “All departments report manned and ready. All damage control lockers are manned. The ship is at General Quarters, sir. Battle Stations set,” reported the TAO.

  “Very well, TAO,” said Catton.

  He looked over to Lieutenant Pi-ce, who was standing beside him. Pi-ce was dressed out in her combat exposure suit with her rebreathing helmet hanging over her shoulder; her combat vest was covered in communications equipment, ammunition, and grenades. He then looked down to the automatic weapon attached to her vest and noticed that the Lieutenant also had several bladed weapons strapped onto her body, including two short-handled axes.

  “Do you really think you’ll need those axes in a gunfight, Lieutenant?” asked Catton.

  “In tight passageways, gunfights very often become hand-to-hand fights, sir,” replied Pi-ce. “And I’d rather have them and not need them than need them and not have them.”

  “Can’t argue with that logic,” replied Catton, turning back toward the TAO. “TAO commence combat FTL jump.”

  “Commence combat FTL jump, aye, sir,” repeated the TAO. The TAO activated the ship’s announcing circuit. “All hands standby for combat FTL jump. Jump in five … four … three … two … one —"

  Catton blinked his eyes.

  “Jump complete,” reported the TAO. “All stations report status.”

  “TAO, get me the RADIUS picture,” ordered Catton.

  “Aye, sir,” replied the TAO as the large 3-D representation of space around Relentless updated. “We have … three ships in high orbit around Zala Three.”

  “Emissions?” asked Catton.

  “Checking, sir … we’re picking up the distress beacon, RADIUS scanning emissions, and normal comms frequencies … but there’s no traffic on them.”

  “Three ships,” questioned Catton. “Are you able to identify the other two ships?”

  “TAO, EMCOM,” reported the Emissions Control Officer, “Neutrino search indicates only one of the ship’s reactors are operational. Also have signatures from several other ships that must have been in the area.”

  “TAO, get Lieutenant Wren’s fighters out … both of them.”

  “Aye, sir,” replied the TAO, activating the announcing circuit. “Launch Talon One and Talon Two.”

  Catton watched as his two fighters illuminated on the 3-D plot. “Vector them toward the ships for a closer look.”

  He sat silently, watching the 3-D plot as the fighters moved closer to the ships.

  “Relentless, this is Talon One, coming into visual range … son-of-a-bitch … Relentless, Talon One, there was a battle fought here. Two Qua-la capital ships and … confirm dreadnought class ship. All have significant damage and appear to be drifting.”

  “TAO, any other contacts?” asked Catton.

  “No, sir. Nothing on RADIUS or EMCOM sweeps.”

  “Very well, TAO.” Catton activated his communications panel. “Bridge, Captain. Move in … one-half sub-light.” He turned back to the TAO. “TAO, Set Combat Condition Yellow, Weapons Tight.”

  “Aye, sir,” replied the TAO.

  “And have the bridge plot an FTL jump if we get in trouble.”

  “Relentless, Talon One, Qua-la vessel appears to be a Wasp class cruiser. Significant damage to port quarter including hull and structural failures.”

  “This is Talon Two. Multiple hull breaches on starboard side. High rad levels detected.”

  “Additional debris off port bow … appears to be a Qua-la fighter, what’s left of it.”

  “TAO, inform the Communications Officer to prepare a flash message. It will take weeks to get back to command, but we’ll send it after the first pass.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Catton, now pacing in front of his chair, continued to listen to the reports from his fighters.

  “This is Talon One, moving toward second Qua-la vessel. An Arachnid class battlecruiser.”

  “Damn, that thing is big,” added Talon Two. “Severe structural damage amidships. It’s almost cut in two.”

  ‘At least Thunder went down swinging,’ Catton thought to himself.

  “Sir,” interrupted the TAO. “Picking up a lifeboat with active rescue signal.”

  “Pass the vector to Talon One,” ordered Catton, a rush of hope washing over him.

  “Aye, sir. Talon One, this is Relentless, vector to coordinates being sent to you.”

  “Talon One, picking up lifeboat signal … no need to send coordinates.”

  “How many lifeboats does a dreadnought have?” asked Ensign Landa, the CICWO.

  “I see you haven’t made it that far in your warfare qualifications, Ensign,” replied Catton with a smile. “Senior Lupo, care to educate Mr. Landa?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the greying but still fit Senior Chief Lupo, “A dreadnought class ship has fifty-three to fifty-five lifeboats depending on year of commissioning. Each carries up to eighty crew-members so there is approximately one hundred and five percent capacity.”

  “Very good, Senior Chief,” said Catton. Even though the situation was tense, no reason it couldn’t be a teaching moment.

  “This is Talon One, alongside lifeboat thirty-three. Beacon still active but there is a hull breach on port side … no survivors. They must have attacked the lifeboats too.”

  “Talon One, this is Relentless Charlie Oscar,” spoke Catton into his communications panel. “Have Talon Two finish up on the second Qua-la ship. You head over to Thunder.”

  “Aye, sir,” replied Talon One.

  “You picking up anything else, TAO?” asked Catton.

  “Most of Thunder’s weapons systems and fire control electronics appear to be down. Based off neutrino levels, confirm all but one reactor shutdown. We do have indications of two solid-state emergency power sources still in operation, but not enough to keep life-support on line throughout the ship.”

  “Relentless, Talon One. Thunder is missing … damn. Thunder is missing the aft quarter of the ship. Significant battle damage all along the hull.”

  “TAO, have we been able to raise anyone on Thunder?”

  “No, sir. We’ve been attempting contact via open and secure channels since we arrived. We have received no responses.”

  “Damn it,” replied Lieutenant Stazi. “That’s over four thousand crew members.”

  Catton let out a heavy breath. Apparently the Runan Empire was again at war with the Qua-la. He turned toward Lieutenant Pi-ce. “Lieutenant, have your men prepare to board Thunder and search for survivors.”

  “Aye, sir,” replied the massive Marine with a salute.

  “And Lieutenant,” added Catton. “Find me a survivor.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Two

  Lieutenant Pi-ce stood in front of her men in the troop compartment of the transport as it neared the wrecked dreadnought Thunder. Her brilliant red eyes almost glowed as she addressed her boarding party.

  “We are now at war, brothers and sisters,” she boomed. “Our days of fighting pirates and criminals are over. Now we have a true foe to face so we can bring honor to our clans.”

  “Ya-bu! Ya-bu! Ya-bu!” shouted the nine other Hardian Marines in the compartment, giving their traditional battle cry.

  “When we enter the ship, we will move to the Bridge first and then Combat. From there, we will split into two teams. Team One will be with me and move through command and control compartments and prepare to destroy any data or equipment. Team two, under First Sergeant Bar-ke will search crew common areas. Gunners Pan-xi and Ven-do will remain with the transport. We will meet in the main hangar bay in two standard hours.”

  “ST
ANDBY FOR LANDING IN ONE MINUTE,” reported the pilot over the intercom.

  “Helmets on!” she shouted.

  Pi-ce slid the rebreathing helmet, which converted exhaled carbon dioxide back into breathable air and protected its wearer from the cold vacuum of space, over her head. As the helmet locked into place, she activated the communications link. “Relentless, Wolf One. Comms check.”

  “Check SAT,” came back across the circuit.

  “We’re in the hangar,” reported the pilot. “Obvious hull breach … no artificial gravity … it’s a mess out there.”

  “Stack up!” shouted Pi-ce, and her men took position at the exit. “Activate magnetic locks,” she ordered, directing her men to energize the magnetic fields in their boots.

  A metallic thud let Pi-ce know the transport had landed.

  “On deck,” reported the pilot.

  “Go!” yelled Pi-ce, activating the hatch to the exit.

  Pi-ce trudged into the hangar bay, one clanging step after another. She panned from right to left with her rifle at the ready. Everywhere she looked floated equipment, aircraft, and frozen bodies … hundreds of them. Focusing on one of the bodies, she recognized the black and silver uniform of a Qua-la legionnaire. “Relentless, Wolf One. Thunder was boarded … bodies of Qua-la infantry are present.”

  Pi-ce motioned toward the forward end of the hangar. “Move out,” she ordered.

  Lieutenant Pi-ce and her Hardian Marines slowly made their way to an airlock at on the other side of the hangar. Stopping at the hatch, she turned toward her First Sergeant.

  “If they were able to set General Quarters and Material Condition Zebra, the airlock might still be good,” posed First Sergeant Bar-ke.

  “One way to find out,” replied Pi-ce, activating the door.

  The doors slid open without a sound to a large airlock chamber. As it opened, the bodies covering the floor shot toward the exit.

  Pi-ce spun away from the entrance as a dozen bodies flooded the hangar. “Guess it was good,” she said to Bar-ke.

  Pi-ce and her men moved into the airlock. As the last Marine entered, First Sergeant Bar-ke closed the hatch and Pi-ce depressed the equalization button on the control panel and waited for the pop of her ears that would come with the pressure change.