Mission eradicate obsidi.., p.1
Mission: Eradicate (Obsidiar Fleet Book 6), page 1
Mission: Eradicate
Obsidiar Fleet Book 6
Anthony James
Contents
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
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
The Bar
End
© 2018 Anthony James
All rights reserved
The right of Anthony James to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser
Illustration © Tom Edwards
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Chapter One
Fleet Admiral John Nathan Duggan was lost in thought.
Only a few short weeks ago, the human Confederation had brought about the complete destruction of the Vraxar capital ship Ix-Gastiol, and he knew he should still be on a high at the magnitude of the victory. As it ever was, the win came with a high price tag and there were several loose ends which gnawed at him constantly.
“Sir?”
The voice brought Duggan into the present. Two of his top scientists were seated on the opposite side of his desk. The news they brought was exciting – world-changing – and here he was, distracted by a threat which could be forty years away from Confederation Space.
“My apologies, RL Fleming. You were telling me about the breakthrough in Obsidiar refinement.”
Research Lead Scotty Fleming was thickset and with the hands of a brawler, both of which seemed at odds with his position on one of the most important development teams within the Space Corps.
“Yes, sir. I won’t bore you with the details – the science is contained in the finished report if you wish to look through it. You are aware that we stumbled across a way to refine tiny quantities of Obsidiar into a much more potent form.”
“An unexpected consequence of our work developing the Obsidiar bombs,” said RL Karla Mooney, another member of the same research team.
“I’m aware of the history,” said Duggan. In fact, he knew it intimately, since he’d ordered the research in the first place. “You’ve discovered how to improve the process.”
“Yes, sir, we have.”
Mooney could scarcely contain her excitement and it started washing off onto Duggan. He leaned forward in his chair.
“Give me the details.”
“We successfully transformed a fifteen-tonne block in a single go, sir.”
This was significant and Duggan raised an eyebrow.
“What do the output tests show?”
“The Obsidiar-Teronium is vastly more efficient than the base material,” said Fleming. “Perhaps twenty-thousand percent more efficient.”
Duggan could hardly believe his ears, but he didn’t want to get carried away just yet. “The early version of the process showed a far more modest improvement, RL Fleming.”
“There’s nothing about Obsidiar which conforms to the rules we’re familiar with,” said Mooney, her eyes gleaming. “It’s as though,” she paused, wondering if she should continue. “It’s as though we’ve found a door we never even knew existed. At the same time, we’ve discovered how to open that door. The unrefined Obsidiar is the first rung on the next tier of our existence. The Obsidiar-Teronium holds the potential to take us up close to the top – it has uses we haven’t even thought of yet.”
“The efficiency of the refinement process increases exponentially with the quantity of Obsidiar,” said Fleming. “We’re certain there’s a cap on it, but we haven’t reached the ceiling with our most recent trials.”
“This is excellent work,” said Duggan. “The Confederation Council will be delighted to learn of the potential civilian benefits coming from the military’s extensive funding.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Duggan rubbed his chin in thought. “The Obsidiar power station here on Prime is undergoing final testing and is due to come online in the next few weeks. The Destiny facility contains a significant quantity of Obsidiar – is it already obsolete?”
Fleming and Mooney exchanged glances. “Refinement could easily take place in situ, sir,” said Fleming. “The Obsidiar facility is modular, which means the power generators could be modified without shutting down the entire plant.”
The Destiny facility was projected to generate sufficient power to meet the entire planet’s needs for the next several decades and it would be politically excruciating to shut it off before its benefits could be experienced.
“It sounds like there is no problem we can’t work our way around,” said Duggan.
Mooney cleared her throat. “It might not be quite so straightforward.”
“Meaning?”
“It’s its natural form, Obsidiar is mostly quite stable, sir. However, we believe the Obsidiar-T is rather less stable.”
“How much less stable?”
It was apparent that RL Mooney had drawn the short straw and she cleared her throat again. “Significantly less stable.”
“Are you telling me in an exceptionally roundabout fashion that the refinement process isn’t entirely good news, RL Mooney?”
“Yes, sir. We’ll be able to deal with the limitations in time, but for the moment, the Obsidiar-T is not suitable for many applications.”
“What might the unintended consequences be of its use?”
“Most likely it will simply produce too much power in too short a time,” said Fleming. “The Obsidiar is a finite resource and we lack data on how long it will function at peak efficiency – certainly in its base form it is a viable solution for extended use. The Obsidiar-T might well burn out very quickly.”
“Our research continues, sir,” said Mooney.
Duggan pursed his lips. Mooney and Fleming were excellent scientists and he had no intention of haranguing them. There were few research projects which went entirely to plan, especially so when it came to cutting-cutting-edge stuff like Obsidiar refinement.
“I’m sure we’ll overcome these issues,” he said. “What your team has accomplished is something the Ghasts have not managed and, as far as we’re aware, something the Vraxar themselves have not accomplished. We’ll get there.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Mooney, trying to conceal her relief.
“However,” continued Duggan, “there are several teams working in parallel to yours. These teams were specifically assembled to explore the military uses of Obsidiar-T and they have been investigating a number of possible uses for a refined version of the base material. What will be the knock-on effect for these other teams?”
“I wouldn’t like to speculate, sir,” said Fleming.
“One of these teams in particular is conducting some vital work for me. Should I put things on hold? How long until you are able to produce a stable refinement of the Obsidiar?”
Fleming grimaced. “Years, perhaps.”
“We’re no longer up against the clock, are we?” asked Mooney. “I thought the Vraxar were defeated.”
Duggan wasn’t about to confide in them. “Vraxar or no Vraxar, I am not going to take things easy.”
The meeting was at an end and had been another mixed bag. Duggan climbed from his chair and politely indicated it was time for his scientists to leave him.
When the room was empty, he stood at one of his windows for a time and watched the activity on the Raksol military base. The climate on this area of Prime was far more agreeable than that of New Earth, and there was significantly less rainfall. The warmth and the brightness should have cheered him up, but they did not.
Aside from the weather, the Raksol base could have been any other military base on any other Confederation planet. The grey, brutalist cubes of the buildings depressed him more with each passing day and he wished he could tear them down and begin afresh, with a new template that respected the humanity of the Confederation’s military. There was no chance it would happen on his watch. Once he was satisfied the war with the Vraxar was finished, he’d made a promise to retire.
The voice of Cerys, his personal assistant, came to him through the room’s comms system. “Councillor Stahl wishes to speak with you, Fleet Admiral.”
“Bring him through.”
Stahl was currently on the other side of Pr ime. It was a long way on foot, though insufficient distance to produce a significant delay on the comms.
“Fleet Admiral Duggan,” greeted Stahl, his voice affable.
Councillor Stahl had at one time been a pain in the backside. During the course of the Vraxar wars, the man had revealed a number of positive attributes and now he was no longer an outright opponent of Duggan’s methods.
“What can I do for you, Councillor?”
“How did your meeting go?”
“Good and bad. The Obsidiar-Teronium shows enormous promise, except it is not yet ready for widespread use.”
Stahl sounded disappointed. “Shame. Perhaps I was naïve to imagine we might learn to run before we could walk.”
“My scientists advise they require another few years, Councillor.”
“That long? Is there anything we can do to assist the Space Corps’ efforts?”
At one time, such a question would have caused Duggan’s eyebrows to fall off in surprise.
“The project is more than adequately funded. Are there any rumblings of discontent when it comes to the wider financing of our shipbuilding programme?”
“Not yet, Fleet Admiral. However, there are many on the Confederation Council who believe the war is won. If there is no further sign of Vraxar within a year or two, I expect there to be numerous voices calling for a reduction in the Space Corps’ funding.”
“The war isn’t over,” said Duggan quietly. “The Aranol exists.”
“In Estral Space. They have a long way to travel if they wish to reach our little corner of the universe.”
“They will come, Councillor and it would be a mistake for us to treat the intervening time as anything other than an opportunity to prepare.”
Stahl was briefly quiet before he resumed. “I’m on your side, Fleet Admiral. We’ve had our differences, but in this I agree with you. I am only one amongst many and if this Aranol takes years before it appears, it will be an uphill battle to keep the money pouring into our shipyards and research facilities.”
“The Obsidiar-T is a direct benefit of the military spending.”
“It will be once it is available for civilian use.”
“I’ll make sure it’s ready.”
In the early days after his promotion to Fleet Admiral, Duggan would have been downhearted at the conversation with Stahl and the talk of funding cuts. Now, with many years in the job, he was a seasoned professional when it came to dealing with the Confederation Council. As long as he remained in office, Duggan was reasonably sure he could wring out enough money to keep the Space Corps at its peak.
“Have you learned anything new about the Ulterior-2?” asked Stahl. He sounded genuinely interested.
“We’re certain its crew took it through the portal on Ix-Gastiol. When the ES Devastator entered the central coil in order to deploy the Falsehood bomb, its sensors captured some useful information. Using data gathered by the ESS Crimson and also that from the Valpian, we’ve been able to pinpoint the location of the Aranol and, by extension, the arrival point of the Ulterior-2.”
“What is your plan, Fleet Admiral?”
“To get them back. Whatever it takes.”
“You have my support to take the necessary action.”
Duggan didn’t require the Council’s support. Nevertheless, it was a gesture Stahl didn’t need to make. “Thank you, Councillor.”
“I’m busy, as I’m sure you are, Fleet Admiral. We will speak again soon.”
With Stahl gone, Duggan came to a snap decision. “Cerys, arrange a shuttle flight from the nearest available pad.”
The computer responded smoothly and politely. “Certainly, Fleet Admiral, that is done – you will depart from Landing Pad 2 in ten minutes. What is your destination?”
“Star Reach.”
“That is a long distance, Fleet Admiral. Should I inform your wife?”
“No. I intend returning in time for dinner.”
“Will you be accompanied?”
“Ask Lieutenant Paz to meet me at the landing pad.”
“I have relayed your orders.”
Duggan left his office, glad to see the back of its wood-panelled walls and artificial plants. In the corridor outside, the veneer of luxury was replaced by tiled floors, blue-painted walls and over-cooled air. He didn’t pay attention to the personnel, nor to the route his feet carried him. After a few minutes, he was in the gravity-engined vehicle reserved for his personal use. The car’s facia was covered with too much cheap wood and the seats were upholstered in unyielding foam and badly-stitched leather that was about as supple as the muscles in his lower back. He didn’t crave opulence – so long as it was passably clean and tidy, he didn’t mind.
The Raksol base wasn’t a primary shipbuilding facility. Even so, it was home to a number of advanced research blocks and was also one of the manufacturing centres for the new comms units which were being urgently deployed across the Space Corps fleet. In addition, Duggan had ordered every military base to have its defences increased in the form of new ground Shimmer emplacements.
Eventually, the plan was to install numerous surface-based overcharge particle beam turrets, the power draw from which required significant upgrades to the generation facilities on each of the Confederation planets. This was one of the reasons the Destiny facility was so important – there was no short-term way for humanity to adapt to the style of mobile warfare employed by the Vraxar, hence it seemed wise to pack each world with as much offensive hardware as possible.
With everything going on, the streets were busy, as were the skies above. Lifter shuttles and construction robots floated overhead and when Duggan lowered his window, he could hear the distinctive sounds of overworked gravity engines. Activity with purpose pleased him and he felt reassured.
Landing Pad 2 was a raised square of concrete with sloped sides and surrounded by buildings which crowded in on four sides. There was a certain amount of clear area around the landing pad in order to pay lip service to the Space Corps’ endless pursuit of safety for its personnel. In reality, accidents were few and far between.
There was a shuttle waiting, with its side door open. The vessel was one amongst countless others like it, being a grey cuboid box with a wedge-shaped nose. This model had a nose cannon, leading Duggan to guess that Cerys had commandeered it from a docked spaceship somewhere on the base.
His car stopped at the edge of the pad. “You are here!” it said, in a voice a little too cheerful for comfort.
There was no sign of Lieutenant Paz and Duggan twisted to look out of the rear screen.
“You are here! Get out!” the car reminded him cheerfully.
“Voice off!” said Duggan, in no mood to be ordered around by a car.
He got out of the vehicle and made his way up the ramp. His body was fully recovered from the damage it suffered during the Vraxar attack on the Tucson base, and it didn’t complain too loudly at the steepness.
The shuttle’s pilot was in the open doorway, waiting for his passengers. The man was dressed in the uniform of a soldier. This fact, plus the group of six other soldiers at the end of the boarding ramp, confirmed Duggan’s suspicion the shuttle had come from a warship close by.
The group had evidently been primed to expect a senior officer. One saluted, whilst the rest kept a careful eye out for danger. They carried gauss rifles and sidearms, with a couple of the squad also equipped with grenade belts.
“Fleet Admiral Duggan? I’m Corporal Gardner,” said the pilot. He was slender, with fading blond hair and probably due for retirement soon. “We’re going to the Crater, are we?”
Crater was the informal name given to the Star Reach propulsion and research test facility. A few decades had elapsed since the last incident at the site, yet the name lingered on.
