Homeworld war, p.1
Homeworld War, page 1
Homeworld War
T. E. BUTCHER
Copyright © 2023 by T. E. Butcher
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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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
A Word From the Author
Preview of Homeworld Victorious
Chapter
One
1900 17 March 2035
Outer System 9, near the Kuiper Belt
Major K’ran paced the cramped command center. Any chance to stretch his legs and stave off muscle loss was welcome in the cramped confines of the deep space reconnaissance station. It wasn’t a terribly complex station: a fusion reactor, a command center, a living quarter, life support, a dock for shuttles, and every form of sensor or detection equipment the Earth Alliance could think of. AI-assisted optics, radar, lidar, and even resonance detectors that could locate sentient life—courtesy of the Keblarians—all pointed towards the outer edge of the solar system.
“Anything so far?” he asked as he paced the pit where his workstation sat. All the station staff around him replied in the negative.
“Mr. K’ran,” said Dr. Drew Goldman, a civilian contractor they’d gained thanks to NORAD. “We’ve been at this for the better part of five years. It might be time to change tactics.” He swiveled away from his workstation and stood, stretching his back as he did. “Maybe it’s time we use our vast sensor arrays to search for archaeological signs of the Blacktide’s presence.”
K’ran scratched at the fading blond feathers between his brow ridges.
“How do you figure?”
“Well, we can use deep space spectrometry,” the astronomer replied. “The same way we were able to identify the type of engines the motherships used during First Contact.” He hobbled over to the ready board—deep space didn’t suit this man—and erased an old note from the XO. “For one, we know there was a presence in the Proxima Centauri system at some point. We can use deep space radio and optical signals to identify elements that stand out against what we would expect.”
He etched a few symbols on the whiteboard as he spoke.
“Proxima Centauri has four planets, three rocky ones and a single gas giant, so we can expect very basic elements like iron, nitrogen, hydrogen, and nickel. We’re mostly looking at ice and rock, but what we’re looking for would be either an abundance of something that shouldn’t be there or an absence of something that should be there.”
He underlined a few of the elements on the board.
“Now, we don’t know if they do any kind of mining—hell, we don’t know if they build things as we understand them at all—but they are some kind of organism, and that may mean they consume resources at a faster rate than a species that uses technology.”
K’ran looked over to Dr. Jessica Summers, another contractor they’d picked up. “Well, you’re the deep space biologist. What do you think of all of this?”
“We should look for carbon,” she said without looking up from her station. “If they are using organic tech like we think they do, then their spacecraft—if we can even call them that—have hulls made of or reinforced by carbon nanotubes.”
K’ran rubbed his snout.
“I swear if I hear the word nano one more time . . .” He looked up at the doctor and shook his head. “Sorry, continue.”
“Yes, well, these nanotubes are incredibly light and strong, right? So they’ve got tons of these things. We’ve watched the footage from the M’Nok and the Keblarians’ archives, and we believe the old alliance was so ineffective against them because they oriented their navies to fight pirates with ships of steel and aluminum.”
K’ran nodded. “I read that report. It’s why we’ve been developing new weapons specifically for dealing with them: the Casaba howitzers, Orion fighters, and Excalibur rounds.”
Drew cocked his head.
“I’m familiar with most of those, but Excalibur rounds?”
K’ran sighed and returned to his chair.
“They’re shells loaded with—ugh—nano-machines in a sort of stasis. They all have limiters on them, and when they get around organic matter containing traces of the Blacktide macro-virus, they’re set to destroy it by turning it into more nano-machines and creating a ripple effect.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I’ll admit it’s odd—to use weapons designed to make something sick or to disrupt a biological process.”
“The Blacktide acts and battles in a way none of us have seen in person,” Dr. Summers said. “They look animalistic, and their micro behaviors suggest that, but their macro behaviors suggest an intelligent control, a greater unity of purpose and action.” She turned towards the others and tented her fingers. “Now, I’m no military expert, but if there is a centralized point where the intelligent control rests, it would be key to our purpose to destroy it.”
K’ran squinted and closed his eyes for a second. The artificial light of the station, with all its screens, was hell on his eyesight. His ancestors were night stalkers, and he could get by with most of the screens turned down, but the Humans and Keblarians aboard needed the light to see.
“What if they’re like ants?” he asked. “If they lose the queen and another ant becomes the queen, we know this virus has some kinda connection to itself. What if it learns its intelligence has been killed and it just grows a new one?”
Before they could continue the conversation, an alarm sounded.
“We’ve got an optical pickup,” one observer said. “Long-range in sector bravo-seven.”
K’ran looked at the communications officer.
“Alert OS 8 and 10,” he said. “Let’s confirm the contact, designate Uniform-One, and get some estimates on this bogey.”
The optical sensors worked with assistance from multiple algorithms and subsystems to be of any use. By sectioning off space, they were able to continually watch the sector with an overlay of what should be there. If, for some reason, that image changed, say something got between the stars and the optic, the optic would pick up on that difference and alert the user. K’ran appreciated that because he wasn’t entirely sure the radar could pick up an organic mass.
Still, the optical sensor by itself wasn’t precise, which was why he’d called out to OS 9 and 10. If the three stations triangulated their sensors, then they could get a more precise image of the target.
“Gemini,” he called out to the station’s AI. “Let me know when we have a resolute image, and alert higher command we have a possible contact.”
“At once, Major,” she replied. “Would you also like to alert the Verdant Eternity and her battle group?”
“We might as well,” he said. “I don’t want to put all our cards on the table, but that isn’t my call.”
“We’ve got active radiation off Uniform-One,” Gemini informed him. “Radar signals or possible comms. Image is coming on-screen now.” Thanks to the light-enhancing properties of the optics and help from the AIs, K’ran could get a fairly good visual of the target on-screen.
It looked like a hideous armored insect. Black segmented armor ran down its length, and it possessed six sharp claws on legs folded against its underside. Its head resembled a mosquito’s, but sleeker and more predatory. A massive pair of compound eyes sat in a forward-facing part of the head, while a smaller, squinty set of sub-eyes receded beneath the compound eyes, which Gemini marked as emitting radar waves.
“We have no other contacts?” K’ran asked.
“Negative, Major,” the observers echoed.
K’ran rested his face on his fist.
“Then it’s on a recon cruise, sniffing out the neighborhood,” he said. “Send this recommendation to Higher. Hold off on using too much new stuff. If we move to destroy, use older weapons.”
“They didn’t behave like this during their war with the old alliance,” Dr. Jessica Summers said. “As far as we know, they just showed up in force and wiped out the defenders.”
“As far as we know,” K’ran said, “our records are far from complete, and oral histories have warped them into invincible monsters. The only reason we have any idea how any of their biology works is because we have limited data from a dead tidepool.” He gestured to the image on the screen. “For all we know, they could have scouted out the system, then sent in their forces every time. Hell, we don’t even know their numbers during the fall. Did they have overwhelming numbers, or were we seeing the same few dozen individuals every time?”
He leaned forward apprehensively. The Verdant Eternity emerged from her position near Nemesis Station, the central hub of the Outer System defenses known as the Nemesis Line. While she had once been a Keblarian Ark, they had transformed her with an infusion of tech and innovations from the M’Nok, Humanity, and recovered Forgotten Tech, as well as Tyr. Now she was what the Humans called a carrie
Escorted by a pair of space dominance cruisers and multiple destroyers, she lurched towards Uniform-One, closing in to reduce the distance her craft had to travel.
The SD cruisers opened with a salvo of missiles. They didn’t contain standard explosives or nukes, but rather burst near the target, showering it with small trackers that emitted high amounts of active radiation. This illuminated the target and made it much easier to track. The recon bug, as K’ran was beginning to think of it, clearly hadn’t realized it had been detected.
As sensors coated its body, it tried to turn and flee, only for the Verdant Eternity to launch strike craft. A-48 Kilgores—named after a horned herd animal from North America—blasted away from launch catapults. The heavily armed and armored spacecraft were far from pretty to look at. They were rather bulbous, with weapons pods and sensor arrays protruding at odd angles.
They swarmed the fleeing recon bug, peppering its hide with coilgun shells. At a certain point, energy transfer would defeat any armor you could come up with, unless its thickness was absurd. Flashes of light marked hits across the recon bug’s body, and it began to lose speed.
“We don’t have a drive signature,” Dr. Drew said. “I’ve taken a look with the spectrometer and the multiple optical lenses. There’s no exhaust flare we can see. Even with IR, it shouldn’t be possible for this thing to travel without some kind of engine.”
“I don’t think that recon bug cares what we think is possible,” K’ran replied as strike craft hammered the thing’s compound eyes with ordinance. It was leaking fluid into space, and before long, the strike craft broke off their attack. The SD cruisers sprang back into action. The gaps in the recon bug’s armor mapped by the sensors stuck to its surface, and the cruisers fired mega-thermal warheads into the gaps. Nano-thermite, another innovation from Forgotten tech, used nano-machines to just burn everything in their path, regardless of what it was made of.
The recon bug didn’t stand a chance, its burning body twisting away before it became clear it had lost the ability to move under its own power.
Cheers and applause echoed throughout the observation station. K’ran allowed it to persist, dropping his jaw in a M’Nok chuckle before he held up a hand.
“So we beat one out here,” he said. “Doesn’t change anything. The Blacktide are still out there, and they’ll keep coming.” He folded his arms and looked at Dr. Summers. “We speculated they could have reconned systems before taking them over. They’re definitely going to be interested in this one, since we destroyed their recon bug.” He looked up at the main monitor, where the corpse of the recon bug spun through space. “As for right now, though, there’s going to be a recovery operation, and I have a feeling there’s going to be plenty for us to learn.”
He reclined in his chair and allowed himself to relax for the first time since they’d announced an optical contact. Guess they’ll get Midnight November spun up to go recover the body. He stretched his back in the chair and took in a breath. Better them than me.
Chapter
Two
Henry moved back and forth along the troop bay, double- and triple-checking soldier’s armor as he went. He held a tablet in one hand, and by the time his eyes reached the soldiers in question, it was usually superfluous. More Keblarian faces responded in the affirmative as well as helped check out their Human and M’Nok companions, at least compared to the last time he’d been in the field with an active Midnight team.
“Guess you got bored with the schoolhouse?” Krek asked as he joined him.
Henry shrugged.
“We’ve got an excellent program in place,” he replied. “With the people we have, it basically runs itself half the time.” He looked over his friend’s gear as he spoke. While he’d kept the schoolhouse pudge at bay, gray had begun to work its way into his hair. He’d begun noticing wrinkles that hadn’t been there before. And I’m still the better part of a decade away from forty.
Checking off Krek, he gave the big M’Nok a thumbs-up. “Qrora showed up in my office wanting a team to head to the Nem to recover this bug, and he needed a GFC. It was him or me, and he’s got a lot going on at the moment.”
“Well, it would have been dandy of him to send more than one team,” Lefty said as he joined them in the middle of the troop bay. “Especially if we don’t know exactly what we’re getting into.”
“They’re spinning up Midnight Fury to act as a reserve element, but they need to hand off security of the Yucatan site to regular forces,” Henry replied. He held up a hand before the other two could speak. “Trust me, I’d rather have Abyss riding out with us, but it’s easier to shift Fury since Abyss is working on the ocean floor.”
He checked his tablet to see if there was an update on their backup. Since the Forgotten Invasion, Midnight November had expanded into five operational teams, with Qrora having set goals for a dozen more. Officially, they were a multi-species team, with volunteers accepted from the best of the world’s militaries and intelligence agencies. The logistics of supplying a Midnight Team would have been impossible for a battalion-sized element to support. Despite their relatively compatible biology, medical supplies and simple things like uniforms were wildly different for the three races that made up the vast majority of the solar system’s population. What would be snug on a Human would be baggy on a Keblarian and tear in weird spots on a M’Nok.
Midnight circumvented this by having individual armor pieces custom fit for each member, along with a replacement set in case something was damaged. Their medics were the best of the best, trained in trauma medicine relevant to the three races, with synthetic blood for all three. One thing Henry had been surprised to learn was they taught medics that if a Human, Keblarian, and M’Nok all had bleeding injuries, they must treat the Keblarian first and the M’Nok last, because the Keblarians had much less blood to lose, so a lower amount could be fatal, while M’Nok bled slowly.
That reminded Henry to inspect the trauma bags of the team’s medics, a M’Nok nicknamed Lucy and a Keblarian named Eius. Both medics had their trauma bags set up in the most pragmatic way possible. Lucy kept things that could tear easily accessible, so if she needed to reach deeper into her bag, her short claws wouldn’t rip something, while the studious Eius kept everything in a tight and orderly fashion.
“Alright Eclipse, listen up,” Krek bellowed. “First order of business: we’re going to secure the bug’s body, just in case there’s something dangerous hanging out.” He paused, his avian eyes flicking across his team. “We’ve seen enough movies to know something like this could easily have parasites, eggs, babies, or something nasty waiting around to kill us when we try to move it.” He nodded to Lefty, who slapped a large metallic cylinder with a jagged pointed end.
“Once the site has been cleared,” said Lefty, “we’re going to take five of these bad boys and stick them where the fleet says. Then the tugs will come and move our bug over to a shipyard, where the nerds are going to dissect it.” He began slapping the anchor with a heavy gloved hand, punctuating every word. “Just—because—we—said—it’s—clear—doesn’t—mean—we—drop—out—security—posture, kapeesh?”
“Kapeesh!” his team echoed eagerly.
“Lucy and Eius will remain here,” said Krek. “The shuttle will be our casualty collection and evac point, where we’ll come to evaluate casualties. Are there any questions for myself, Lefty, or GFC Wells?”
One of the newer soldiers raised his hand.
“How long until Fury can get out here?” he asked.
“They broke orbit a few days ago, so they should be a few hours behind us since they’re using one of our boats,” Henry said. In addition to the Midnight teams, the organization possessed several fast-attack boats, using the same nuclear pulse drives that the Orion fighters did. With their much greater acceleration, they could easily catch the Keblarians’ assault carrier containing their dropship.
