Emergence: Book One of the Dark Tide Trilogy

  Emergence

  By Dayne Edmondson

  Copyright 2016 Dayne Edmondson

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written consent of the Author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Dark Star Publishing

  Edited by Morgan Smith

  Cover design by Matt Forsyth

  Table of Contents

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  Chapter 1 - The Void

  Chapter 2 - The Plot Thickens

  Chapter 3 - Invasion

  Chapter 4 - Surrounded

  Chapter 5 - First Contact

  Chapter 6 - Battle Ensues

  Chapter 7 - Shadow Dance

  Chapter 8 - Relief

  Chapter 9 - Black Box

  Chapter 10 - Traitor

  Chapter 11 - Headquarters

  Chapter 12 - Factor of Seven

  Chapter 13 - Interrogation

  Chapter 14 - Firebreak

  Chapter 15 - Darkness before Dawn

  Chapter 16 - Light of Dawn

  Chapter 17 - New Orders

  Chapter 18 - Call to Arms

  Eclipse Excerpt

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  Chapter 1 - The Void

  Lieutenant Selene Artois jerked her starfighter into a 180-degree spin and fired at her pursuer. Two red beams of light converged on the front of the starfighter. “Gotta be faster, Jamison. And don’t follow so close,” she said over the squadron comm channel.

  “Yes ma’am,” the voice of rookie pilot Jeremiah Jamison acknowledged. He turned his fighter and set a return course for the star carrier, Independence.

  Selene spun her fighter around 180-degrees and gunned the throttle to rejoin the fray.

  Although the dogfighting was only practice, with lower power lasers and “dummy” missiles being used, the other pilots treated it as real. It reminded Selene of the old game, King of the Hill. How many war games had she participated in? She had lost count.

  An alert flashed on her HUD. Missile lock. She turned her fighter toward the origin of the missile and used her fighter’s targeting computer to track the missile’s trajectory. Her HUD displayed an aiming reticle which lit up bright green as it lined up on the missile. She fired another burst from her lasers, striking the missile and causing it to detonate.

  No sooner had the missile detonated than two separate lasers locked on her fighter. She activated her bottom repulsors, shooting upward in space while activating the right repulsor. Her diagonal movement broke the targeting of her opponents long enough for Selene to line her reticle up on the first enemy target.

  Selene fired. She hit them on the wing, despite their attempts to evade. The damage simulator in the enemy fighter deactivated the repulsors on that wing, mimicking the effects of a full-strength laser strike. She slowed and took aim again, but was forced to speed up while performing a spin when a second target lock alarm sounded. She now faced the first fighter. She triggered her lasers. Direct hit on the cockpit - they were out of the game.

  Selene did a 180-degree flip and faced the second attacker. A missile launch warning popped up on her HUD. “Two can play that game,” she muttered. She targeted the oncoming missile with her own and launched it. The two missiles sped toward one another. She followed as close as she safely could behind her missile. The two missiles exploded in a cloud of shrapnel and other debris.

  Selene used the cloud of debris to mask her approach and burst forth from the debris cloud. She locked on and fired at her target before they could get their bearings. Direct hit to the laser battery. They were defenseless except for their missiles now.

  The enemy fighter tried to flee, jinking and juking to avoid her lasers. She sighed. Should she let them go? She checked the HUD to see what pilot it was. It’s that asshole Earling, she thought. No mercy for you today, sweetheart. She estimated her trajectory and fired.

  Dual laser beams struck Brianne’s fighter square in the engines. Her engines shut down, and she floated on into the void.

  “Nice job, Raptor One,” the voice of the CAG said over the flight group channel. “Simulation is complete. Return to base.”

  “Acknowledged, CAG,” she replied. She switched to the squad channel. “You heard the CAG, back to base, Raptors.” She turned her fighter toward the Federation carrier, the FSS Independence.

  She landed her FS-301 in the main hangar. Clamps rose from the floor and secured her fighter while a flight crew member pushed a ladder up against the hull. Selene opened the canopy and exited her fighter. She deactivated her helmet. The floor opened and her fighter descended into the depths of the carrier to be prepared for the next deployment.

  “Lieutenant,” a voice came from behind Selene, “may I have a word?”

  Selene groaned. Brianne. “What is it, Earling?”

  The short woman came within inches of Selene, though the top of her head only reached Selene’s chest. “You sought me out today, didn’t you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You could have picked other fighters to shoot down. You chose mine. Why?”

  Do I want to get into this right now? What she wanted to say was Brianne was an asshole and a bully and deserved whatever she got. She wanted to tell her how she had requested a transfer out of her squad several times, only to be denied each time. Instead she said, “You were in my way. Luck of the draw, I guess.”

  “Bullshit.” Brianne spat on the floor. “This is the seventh time straight you’ve shot me down.” She clenched her fists. “If you seek me out again I’ll…”

  “You’ll what?” Selene glared at her. “Attack your squad leader?”

  “I’d watch your back if I were you.” Brianne left the hangar.

  Selene shook her head. It wasn’t her fault Brianne lacked the same level of skill as her. Putting other pilots in their place made her feel dirty and worked up an appetite.

  She returned to her quarters where she hit the refresher and changed into her fatigues, then made her way to the mess hall. Dozens of pilots, Marines and other navy personnel sat around the room. Quiet chatter formed a buzz with occasional laughter ringing out. She sat at an empty table. Two tables over Brianne and her clique of pilots cast veiled glances in her direction as they chatted. Is this what it was like in primary school? Catty girls badmouthing others?

  Her datapad beeped. She removed it from her pant pocket. An official communication. Hope of a personal message from home faded. She opened it. The flight crew of the Independence were up for two weeks leave in a month. I wish we had more than two weeks, Selene thoug
ht. Two weeks was barely enough time to make it home and then turn around and make it back for most pilots, let alone spending time with family. So, Selene would do what every crew member did – go spend her time and credits down on Eligar II.

  Selene logged in and checked on the status of her transfer request. If she couldn’t get the bad apples out of her squad, she would try to get out. The status now read “rejected” in big red letters. Will I ever get off this shithole of a ship?

  ***

  Federation starship captain Martin Rigsby smiled at his wife on the video screen in his quarters aboard the Independence. A mug of coffee occupied a corner of his desk. “How are the kids?” he asked.

  His wife, a middle-age red-head who retained her youthful beauty smiled at him. “Sally lost a tooth last night. She was excited for the tooth mage to come. Adam received top marks in his tech class for the semester. They both talk about you non-stop.”

  “Well, with luck this deployment will be over in a few months. Then I can come home for good.”

  “Praise the Founders,” she replied. “That will be such a blessing.”

  “So, I was thinking when I get out…” A beeping in his head interrupted him. The bridge. He held up a finger. “One moment.” Captain Rigsby, report, he said through his implant.

  Captain, tac comm here, Tactical Commander, Zigana Kovacic said through the neural net. As if Martin wouldn’t recognize his signature. We’ve received an urgent transmission from Serpentis III. They reported an attack when the communication ended. We haven’t been able to raise them again.

  Pirates, I reckon, Martin thought. The Yakura clan had been active nearby of late. Sector eighteen was too far from Imperial territory for it to be Rakosh vessels. Acknowledged, TC, I’m on my way to the bridge. Prep the fleet for travel, we depart in thirty.

  Yes sir, tac comm out.

  The connection ended and Martin returned his attention back to his wife. She had that knowing look in her eyes he recognized so well. “I’m sorry, something urgent has arisen. I’ll call you back later, sweetheart.”

  His wife smiled. She knew the drill. “OK, I love you Martin.”

  “I love you too, Felicity.” He ended the call and checked his appearance in the mirror. The gray in his hair concerned him, but thirty years of military service, most of it combat, could do that to a man. His wife urged him to get nano-treatments for his hair. She said the treatments could make his hair brown again, among other anti-aging benefits. He believed her, after all he had seen the effects of nanites on the undead at Galatia IV. There was still something about using technology to circumvent nature that felt wrong to him. Satisfied by the rest of his appearance, his uniform spotless and the dark circles beneath his eyes having vanished, he departed his quarters.

  ***

  “Captain on the bridge!” the ensign announced as Martin arrived on the bridge. The crew stood to attention.

  “At ease,” Captain Rigsby said.

  His tactical commander studied the holo-map of the sector. The Serpentis system glowed.

  “Zigana.”

  “Sir,” the tactical commander replied without looking.

  “What have we got?”

  “This is the transmission, sir.” Zigana closed his eyes for a moment and re-opened them. Audio filled the bridge.

  “Attention sector headquarters, attention sector headquarters, this is the Serpentis Orbital Defense Force, I repeat, this is the Serpentis Orbital Defense Force. We are requesting immediate support. The enemy has overrun our position and…” the transmission ended.

  “Do we know what interrupted the signal?”

  “It’s not interference, it’s just dead. It’s as if their shadow antenna is just gone.”

  Martin shuddered. “Is the fleet ready?”

  “Almost, sir. The last transports are inbound from the surface with supplies.”

  “Get us underway as soon as they’re aboard.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 2 - The Plot Thickens

  Federation Intelligence Agency operative Kimberly Hague smoothed her red dress. She could do this, it was just a dinner party. She entered the hall where the Galatian Accords conference was kicking off with a dinner party before the meetings began the next day. She approached the security checkpoint and proffered her ID card.

  The hulking Shadow Watch Guard at the door looked her over once, scanned her ID card and gave her a second glance. He handed the ID back to her and pointed toward the scanner. She passed through the scanner and it lit green. The Guard on the other side waved her through. Being an FIA operative came with certain privileges. No ordinary person could have brought a laser pistol into the conference strapped to their thigh.

  Kimberly sought her commanding officer, Richard Segwyn.

  Richard wore a black tuxedo and stylish tie. A hint of a smile appeared on his face as she approached him.

  Kimberly came to stand next to him. Even with her wearing 4-inch heels and being tall for a woman, Richard towered over her. “Reporting for duty, sir.”

  “You look stunning this evening, Agent Hague. You’re fitting in with the crowd.”

  Kimberly blushed, not sure how to accept the comment from her superior officer. She settled for, “Thank you, sir.”

  “The Guards have this place locked tight,” he said. “Keep an eye out, anyway. Intel reports increased chatter, and with so many delegates from other governments here? Well, just keep watch.”

  “Of course, sir,” Kimberly replied. What else was she going to do? Her orders were to attend the dinner party and bolster security. She would look for any suspicious activity, not flirt with handsome men and make mindless small talk with prim ladies.

  The two separated. They were not supposed to speak face-to-face again.

  Kimberly maintained a random path as she patrolled the room. She hoped she pulled off a nonchalant look. Clusters of ladies in long, elaborate dresses that hearkened back to the Colonial Age of Tar Ebon discussed things like fashion and the latest tidbits of gossip about those outside their number. Groups of men discussed everything from politics to sports to military service, often mentioning how long they had served in the Federation military and where they served.

  The Shadow Watch Guards, dressed in tuxedos, though doubtless reinforced with nano-fiber armor beneath, stood around the room, motionless except for their head and eyes. She suspected they were communicating via their implants, for she saw no archaic ear wigs or cuff microphones being used to orchestrate their movements and communicate with one another. She had not been added to the security link group, so her neural link remained silent.

  A crowded room and I feel alone, Kimberly thought.

  Anything? Richard asked through her neural link.

  Nothing yet, sir. Just mundane conversations. You?

  The same.

  The primary reason for the heavy Shadow Watch Guard presence occupied the center of the room. Federation president Joseph Galantos stood chatting with the crown prince of the Rakosh Empire, the first merchant of the Commercial Sector and several leaders from the non-aligned planets. Selene’s implant offered the identities of the non-aligned planet leaders but she ignored them. It would take all night to figure out who was who from that sector. The president’s slicked back black hair gave him a regal look. Security details of the various representatives formed a loose circle around the group.

  Movement caught Kimberly’s eye. Two men dressed in Guard uniforms slipped through a door leading toward the second level of the hall. None of the other Guards noticed or, if they did, they didn’t show concern. Something wasn’t right. She followed them up the stairs but stopped and waited around the corner.

  Two pairs of boots echoed in the hallway. Kimberly peeked around the corner. The men walked fast toward a door. A stair sign hung above it. Kimberly waited for them to enter the stairwell and then removed her heels. She crept down the hallway and stopped at the door to the stairs. Richard, are you there? she asked through the link.


  I’m in the basement, he replied. What is it?

  I’m following two suspicious men dressed in Guard uniforms. They’re headed toward the roof of the building.

  There was a long pause.

  Cease pursuit. I repeat, cease pursuit.

  Why? she asked.

  That is an order. Cease pursuit and return to your position.

  Kimberly did the only thing she could. Acknowledged, she said through the link before closing it.

  Moments later, she opened a new link and pinged the Shadow Watch Guard neural network.

  What do you want? A voice said through her link.

  This is FIA agent Kimberly Hague. I am requesting verification of identity on two of your agents. They were last seen entering a stairwell going toward the roof. Can you verify they are your agents on sanctioned Guard business?

  Silence met her for a long moment.

  We can neither confirm nor deny, Agent Hague. Please do not use this channel again. The line closed.

  She was surprised at being brushed off in such a manner. They were related agencies serving the public good. Inter-agency cooperation my ass. Why hadn’t they confirmed the identity of the agents for her?

  Kimberly opened the door and looked up the stairwell. She heard nothing and saw no one. If the suspicious Guards had been listening, they may have heard her question their identity and could have laid a trap. I will desist, she broadcast toward the neural net the Shadow Watch Guard maintained. They wouldn’t answer, but it might lull her targets into a false sense of security.

  She ascended the stairs and arrived at a door at the last landing. She pulled the door open a crack. Male voices carried through the opening. She opened the door wider. Two men stood near the corner of the building. A body lay on the ground at their feet, stripped of its uniform. Another body lay face down in the other corner.

  The two Guards turned. They were not looking at her but someone else. Richard Segwyn.

  “You were sloppy,” he said. “One of my agents almost made you.” He continued before either “Guard” could reply. “Fortunately, she’s an inexperienced bimbo who will follow my orders. But you two put this entire operation at risk.”