When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars) Read online

  An unexpected benefit of the Observers came half a century later, during the final year of the Martian conflict. The nodes around Earth were already under heavy surveillance, and the Martian colonists knew it. Desperate for a win, the rebels launched a bold and audacious plan. Using stride drives, an armada of warships left on a path for Earth. The journey took three days, and would have been a powerful blow against the Earth Council had a single Observer not spotted the battle group hours out. Fleet launched a vicious counter attack that drove the rebellion back home. Within weeks, the war ended and the tenuous peace began.

  Halfway into the startup sequence, a single Observer satellite received a signal from the OCM to report status. The command started an automated functions check, and within seconds the tiny device bounced around in space as its seven propulsion jets fired off in sequence. Suddenly the Observer stopped, overriding the check. Something triggered its tiny brain to focus on a small, distant point in space. A mote of light twinkled where moments before nothing had been. The satellite had, over the course of its life, mapped and remapped its designated quadrant of space until the image was seared into its circuits. This small sparkle was an anomaly, triggering a series of preset warnings to be sent across the Observer network.

  Moments later, three other Observers reported additional sightings, and the images were sent back to the OCM for analysis. The satellites had located a strange signal roughly two hundred kilometers from the moon: a monotone chirp that sounded eerily similar to a navigation marker.

  * * * * *

  Raymond jumped as an alarm came on inside the building. He hadn’t even noticed falling asleep. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the computer screen. A number of satellites had issued reports of anomalies consistent with a spacial disruption. Raymond double-checked the coordinates, relieved to see they were nowhere near the Earth gates. An invasion force would have to arrive as close as possible to the station, otherwise they’d never survive more than a few minutes. This strange signal seemed more and more like a transport ship using an old traffic code.

  It had taken Olivia a full six hours to explain, but Raymond figured he understood enough about the science of space travel to be absolutely terrified. Given the advances in quantum mechanics, quantum physics, and something called AeroSpacial Disturbance Theory, there were now three ways to cross distances in space: Standard, Stride and Blue.

  The first was simple and had been around for hundreds of years. Normal engines and rockets could propel any vessel at what was known as Standard speed. This was good for travel between stations, in orbit, or from a planet to a moon. Ships used their rockets and zipped about, agile as figure skaters. For longer journeys, intrasystem travel required Strider drives. At Stride speed, the time it took to cross the Solar System dropped from decades took days. Precise calculations were required to avoid slamming into an asteroid at Stride speed, but given the network of relays in the system, it was a fairly painless process. Not every ship had the Slush Erbium Drives—or sleds—built in, so smaller craft often had to hitch a ride.

  The final form of travel, and infinitely more dangerous, was Blue. Discovered only a century before, and more regulated than any other form of travel in history, Blue Space allowed interstellar travel and became the backbone of the Colonization movement. The first probe sent into Blue Space sent a report back via FTL one week later—from over a hundred lightyears away. Utilizing nodes—building-sized relay stations around the colonies—ships could pinpoint their destination within a few kilometers and arrive hundreds and billions of kilometers away in a manner of days, if not hours. The only requirement for“safe”travel was a linked terminal at both ends of the journey. Otherwise a ship could exit Blue space literally anywhere in the universe.

  What made Blue jumps terrifying was the fact that, aside from the evidence that it worked, no one in any field of science understood the how. Ships ripped into the fabric of space, emerged unscathed, and all of it happened without solid proof that it made any logical sense. TSI devoted one quarter of its budget every year to plunging the depths of Blue Space in search of answers, but so far had come up empty. That thought alone convinced Raymond that he would never, in a million years, travel through the“Blue Tunnel.”Especially with the stories one heard about civilian ships that never exited and simply floated in another dimension for eternity.

  Curiosity kept Raymond’s mind racing. He found himself at the telescope controls, not entirely sure why he was there. The powerful lenses responded to his commands, rotating until they faced the indicated coordinates. The entire room spun on a disk, bringing the table-sized glass plates to bear. Raymond tapped out sequences on the keyboard, setting the view on a brilliant expanse of nothing at the edge of the planetary plane.

  The massive monitor displayed the star-filled sky, but little more. Raymond saw comets streak by in the distance, the strobe lights from two weather stations on far orbit, and the red and yellow pulse of a relay station. Nothing. And then, something.

  No, Raymond thought. What is that?He leaned forward and tapped a button on the keyboard to increase the focal length. A small point of light came into view, barely the size of pinprick. As Ray watched, the dot expanded rapidly, becoming as wide as a hangar and pouring blue rays out into Lunar space. The tunnel of energy was joined by a dozen more as exits from Blue Space formed just outside the moon. A cold fist gripped Raymond’s chest as he fought to catch his breath.

  Jesus, it’s a goddamn invasion. Raymond grabbed his headset and dialed the link for the SP Operation Center. His hands shook as the line connected, and he rubbed them together furiously as he waited for the operator on the other end to pick up. While the headset chirped, Raymond watched the blue funnels spew out twisted black shapes. He switched to a higher-powered lens and the objects grew in size, enormous battleships and frigates spewing blood red energy in their wakes. As the Blue Space exits began to close, he had counted twenty total ships.

  “Sector Patrol Luna, this is Operations.”The woman’s voice on the other end was crisp and clear.“What is the purpose of your call?”

  “This is Raymond Lee, TSI station Andretti. I have a major situation here.”

  “Andretti, if this is a civil incident, you need to contact TSI Control. Do you need their information?”

  “No. What? Listen to me, I have unauthorized Blue Space exits in...”He threw files off his desk until he found the map of the space above Luna.“Quadrant 45, sector 21.”

  The operator paused, typing on her computer.“I don’t have any reports from Terra. Andretti, I need you to authenticate this channel.”

  Shit. Raymond squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember the code for his station. He nearly panicked until he saw the note posted above his computer.“Uh, seven-four, er, nine-one-oscar-zulu-zulu?”

  A longer pause.“Andretti, this is Operations. We authenticate, seven-four-niner-one-oscar-zulu-zulu. Send coordinates when ready.”

  Raymond read off the coordinates from the telescope. The armada of ships had slowed down and seemed to be forming up into a battle group. The largest of the vessels, what looked like a giant beehive, was surrounded by the smaller craft.

  “Andretti, we confirm contacts in Lunar space. SP will take over from here. Continue to monitor the situation, but if contacts come within fifty kilometers, seek out shelter immediately.”

  Raymond didn’t answer, but heard the line close. He couldn’t help but watch the hypnotizing shuffle of ships moving into a battle group and creeping toward Earth.

  * * * * *

  On the opposite side of the moon, in the absence of the sun’s light, space began to bubble. A small weather satellite drifted too far off course, its fuel reserves depleted long ago and never refilled. As it meandered lazily into the depths, it suddenly sparked and shuddered. Blue light engulfed the satellite in its final moments, before the truck-sized capsule vanished into the ether.

  Beside this new vortex, a dozen motes of lights winked into existence and began to grow.
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  * * * * *

  “I don’t care what your status is, goddamn it. I want Midwaycleared to launch in fifteen minutes.”

  Hiro rarely swore, but the engineers on this post infuriated him. Ten minutes before he’d been crashed out on a stiff cot. Then a terrified private had woken him with bizarre news: a dozen warships had manifested in Lunar space without so much as a whisper. The newcomers had yet to fire a single shot, but waiting to react was the last thing Hiro had in mind. Or it would have been if the chief engineer, a fat and slovenly civilian, could release the docking clamps so the supercarrier could launch. If he’d wanted, Hiro could have simply ordered the ground rockets to fire and torn the restraints clean out of the gray dirt, but he wasn’t so easily riled.

  “Commodore, we have civilian personnel on board completing the refit. Half your plumbing is still ripped out, and most of the lights are on emergency power. I’ve got doors chocked open and entire sections of hull removed so we can access the wiring. I told you one month a week ago, and that still stands.”

  Hiro’s head throbbed, but he forced his voice to steady.“I don’t need my men in the latrine, Chief. And the crew is trained to operate in pitch black if necessary.”He leaned in close, smelling mustard on the man’s breath.“Now listen to me. I’m ordering my team aboard, and any man you have left is going to be conscripted onto the crew for the duration of this incident. And if you don’t have those docking clamps deactivated by the time our engines fire, I will personally guarantee you end up in front of a firing squad.”

  The man’s eyes bulged at the threat, his thick lower lip quivering.“You can’t do that. I’m a civilian.”

  Hiro grinned maliciously.“I didn’t say anything about trying you. I just said I’d put you in front of a firing squad.”He didn’t wait for the man to respond and left him whimpering in place as he stormed out.

  Outside the OpCenter, Hiro took out his phone and dialed his executive officer, Captain Earl MacReady. The two longtime friends had served with each other for twenty-five years, back when Hiro was a fighter pilot and Earl a radar operator. The commodore knew he could trust the XO to get things ready while he contacted Fleet and developed the situation from the ground.

  Earl picked up on the second ring.“Hiro? Jesus, it’s four in the morning. What’s going on?”Hiro explained the situation.“Christ. I’ll have the Master Chief get the crews up to speed. Most are going to be racked out. When do you want to ship out?”

  Hiro thought for a moment.“Launch in two hours.”

  “We’ll be at battle stations in one, Hiro.”

  “Thank you, Earl.”

  “Shit, I can’t even try to go back to sleep now. Have I ever mentioned you’re a prick of a boss?”

  Hiro smiled, but couldn’t bring himself to laugh.“Not since yesterday. I’ll see you aboard.”He disconnected and immediately placed a call to Admiral Gilroy at Fleet Command. He waited while the line was redirected through the relays down to Earth. Despite the incredible distance between them, the field-grade officer sounded as though he were only a few feet away.

  “Admiral Gilroy speaking.”

  “This is Commodore Osaka, sir. We have a situation developing over Luna.”

  Hiro could hear the two-star admiral shuffling around at his desk. He tried to remember the time difference and figured it was around noon in Vienna. There were other voices in the background. Aides more than likely, from the condescending tone the Admiral used with them. Gilroy was a career soldier, battle hardened and brutish. He never could grasp the political side of the military, which was why he was still searching for his Vice Admiral slot.

  “Commodore, I’m looking at some disturbing readings from a TSI observatory. What can you tell me?”

  “A few minutes ago, a battle group jumped into quadrant 45-21. They aren’t responding to any method of contact, though thus far they haven’t shown hostile intent.”

  “Intent? They made an illegal jump into Earth territory with a group of warships. I want the welcome party to get them the hell off the front porch. Are they Martian? Raiders?”

  Hiro pondered the idea.“I don’t believe so, sir. Mars doesn’t have the tech to pull a maneuver like this. Can’t be raiders, either. These are...different, sir.”

  Gilroy shouted something to an aide.“All right, Hiro. Get your group in the skies and form a block. Fleet is mobilizing as we speak, and I’ll have Valley Forge out to join you in two hours. TFC Normandy and Stalingradare already in sector with CBG Solus, but they’re at half strength. We’re gonna outnumber them by a hair.”He dropped off the line as one of his aides shouted something in the background. Hiro waited patiently.“Commodore, what were those coordinates again?”

  “Right on top of us. Q45-21, off the Luna map.”

  “Then why do I have pictures of a group on the opposite end of the goddamn moon?”

  Hiro took off toward Midway, his heart pounding in his ears.

  * * * * *

  Raymond snapped off pictures as quickly as the computer could record them. The second group appeared only minutes after the first. He thought it was another wave of fighters until he saw them. The two fleets couldn’t have been more different in design. These new craft were smooth and sleek, with silver hulls that shimmered in the light.

  The armadas reached standoff distance and stopped. From his post, Raymond watched Fleet craft converge from the moon and Earth onto the impromptu battlefield. Two carriers, Europe-class from the size of them, led a battle group of destroyers and frigates toward the sortie.

  The entire system held its breath, waiting for someone to make the first move.

  - III -

  Cameron and George sat at a table in the quiet mess hall, nursing steaming cups of coffee. A few other pilots ate their meals in silence, ignoring the overpowering smell of whiskey and beer wafting from the two men’s table. George sat with his head on the table, groaning. Cameron seemed unfazed by a night of poor decision-making, and barely suppressed his smirk every time his friend winced. Their flight uniforms were clean, if not fresh. They’d changed out of their dress blues a half-hour before.

  “I told you that last shot was a mistake.”

  George looked up, his eyes red.“No, you said the second-to-last shot was a mistake. You didn’t see the one after.”He hiccuped, choking back a sudden surge of bile.“Or the two after that.”

  “Are you OK to fly?”

  He grinned.“I’m an ace, son. A hangover is just part of the job.”His stomach gurgled and George fought to hold down his meager breakfast.“What’s on the board today?”

  Cameron turned toward the massive briefing screen, looking for the flight list. Strangely, the board was empty. Not even the runs from the previous night. He was about to say as much to George when the panel suddenly flashed white.

  They both grabbed their ears as the alert bell rang out. Red strobes came on, washing over the room. Shouting voices joined the cacophony as the entire hall leapt to attention. They glanced around, completely disoriented by the ready alarm. Then, one-by-one, they registered the meaning of the noise. Cameron nearly knocked over the table as he bolted toward a comm terminal and activated the line to OpCenter. George joined him quickly, massaging his temples as he walked up. He’d brought his coffee over and sipped from the steaming mug.

  “What the hell? We’re off this weekend. It’s supposed to be a holiday.”

  “That was last weekend. It’s Thursday.”Cameron raised an eyebrow.“What holiday happens on October 13?”

  “Leave George the Hell Alone Day.”He yawned, limbs splayed out like a cat.“What do you think?”

  Cameron shrugged.“Could be another passenger liner lost thrusters.”It was the most likely possibility. Ever since the recession hit, interstellar cruisers were going longer and longer between repairs and refits. They’d handle a call like that once a week at least. SP advertised as the reserve component of Fleet, but it was more like being a space cop.

  The crowd around the statio
n grew, and Cameron felt dozens of eyes on him as he waited for the operation center to connect. Someone finally silenced the alarm, but the the startled pilots still huddled and shivered like wet dogs.

  When the monitor lit up, they found themselves staring at General Burnside, the elderly post commander. Cameron immediately went to attention, while George merely stepped out of the camera’s view. After a moment, they both realized it was a recorded message.

  “What in the Hell?”Cameron stammered.“This is new.”He looked over his shoulder at the remaining crowd, shrugging.

  Though thought well beyond his expiration date, Burnside was a fearsome force on the Lunar post. A former infantry officer, the three-star general ruled the base with a firm hand. More than once, SP personnel found their passes revoked for minor infractions, and every rule and regulation had to be followed to the letter. It didn’t stop the civilians from acting like imbeciles, but anyone in uniform behaved as professionally as a West Point graduate. Coming from the outer rim post at Titan, George had nearly exploded the first week. Cameron found the transition somewhat smoother.

  Burnside spoke, his voice tired and gravelly.“Attention. This is General Lawrence Burnside, commander of Federate Reserve Post Yonkers. Earth and her moon are facing an imminent threat. All pilots report to your hangars and you will receive full briefings. God speed.”The feed cut out.

  Cameron looked at George, bewildered.“Imminent what?”

  “So, not a jet without brakes then.”