The Edge

By Leslie Lee

Mak is a pod pilot on the DreadNought Exeter, a star ship in the Earth allied Unity. The DreadNought's mission is simple. Destroy the enemy, the Kyrzal. A ho-hum war that should have been quick and easy. But not all enemies are obvious. Hidden agendas and betrayals, complicate a mission that is not what it seems at first. Mak's expertise as a pilot in the fighting machines known as Pods will be tested as he is thrust unwillingly into a role he feels totally unsuitable for. No longer a fight to defeat the enemy, the fight will be to just survive when all seems lost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leslie Lee
• Release date: Nov 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301938490

Leslie Lee

Interested in all literature, in all good story telling no matter the format. Living in Los Angeles, favorite city. Having fun, it's a good thing.

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The Edge

Leslie R. Lee

Published by Leslie R. Lee at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Leslie R. Lee

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to my wife: Patie Johnson.

The Edge

by

Leslie R. Lee

Mak’s eyes snapped open.

Something was different.

He didn’t hesitate. He slammed his eyelids shut. Sleep, he didn’t want to wake up. Sleep, he didn’t care what was different. Sleep, that’s all he wanted. He willed his breathing to slow, his body to draw away from consciousness, his heart to match the rhythm of his ship. Orbiting a planet, exploring a star system, engaging the enemy, the ship’s personnel carried out their duties in well-known, orderly patterns. Rhythm. Military rhythm. It was a good thing. Changes in rhythm, not so good. Could be something obvious like alarms shrieking all over the damned ship. Or subtle. Like now. What the hell had yanked him awake? Maybe a slight quickening of some activity he wasn’t quite aware of. Or a slight slowing. Maybe more noise or less noise or the wrong noise. Nothing his conscious mind could lock on to. A part of him argued that it didn’t concern him and besides, what could he do? The responsibility for whatever hell was breaking loose lay with the rest of the ten thousand plus crew.

Sleep, come on, sleep, he told himself.

He punched the pillow and cursed. Something, some stupid little thing, had disrupted the rhythm of the giant ship.

Wearing just his shorts, he stumbled out of his cubicle. He hopped from one foot to the other as he crossed the chilly floor of the dorm. His cubicle was a private one. One of the few perks of an officer he could really enjoy. The other perks included meetings, reports, meetings about the reports, then more reports on the meetings. He yawned. My brain, he thought, where’s my freaking brain? Waking up wasn’t one of the things he did really well. Blearily, he realized Th’han’dra was gone. The curtain was drawn back to show her well made bed. Her absence irritated him for some reason. Had she felt the ‘difference’ before he had? It’d be just like her to tune in to whatever the hell was going on before anybody else had a clue.

Mak, the missing Th’han’dra, and the six snoring, farting, mumbling bodies in the dorm constituted Blue Box Squadron. Their semiprivate cubicles surrounded the common area of their quarters. He used to be in one of those beds until he got bumped up to Leader. Heavy black curtains separated the personal areas from each other. With all the thick privacy curtains closed, almost none of the walls could be seen. The military approved, noise reducing, fire resistant, stain repelling fabric reached from ceiling to floor. They were crap. Everyone thought so. Custom dictated that personnel draw back the curtains when vacating the personal area. With most of the curtains closed, the cramped quarters felt even smaller. Dull grey, textured metal plates covered the floor. The ceiling was metal as well, grey with only the light fixtures and vents to break up the monotony. The odors of the different bodies permeated everything despite the whiney exertions of the air conditioning.

Mak didn’t bother looking at the clock glowing above the door leading to the rest of the ship. Day, night, it had no meaning on board. Shifts were the only important measures of time. Three. Eight hours each. Each shift had a name which reflected military imagination. First, Second, Third. And there weren’t any days on board. Officially, they were called Tri’s. But everybody called them days. For each shift, the crew were either on duty, off duty, or asleep. Somebody told him once they’d get more efficiency out of the crew if they simulated a real Earth day. But then, when did the military ever listen to ‘somebody’?

He slid open the door leading to the bathroom. The dim convenience lamp was all the illumination he could stand. The metal floor chilled his bare feet as he used the facilities. He mumbled his least favorite mantra. Wake up, dammit. Wake up, dammit. Wake up, dammit. He padded over to the sink and splashed cold water over his face. Cold water was free. And it wasn’t really that cold. More tepid, lukewarm, almost bearable. The thumb print pad on the hot water faucet flickered, inviting. Hot water cost just a token or two. Maybe he could spring for a shower instead. A nice, hot shower. Standing under a stream of steaming water, letting it flow over his chilled skin, washing away the aches and pains. Tempting. So very tempting. Just a few tokens. His account would hardly miss it.

He stared into the mirror. His sodden reflection looked old. Older than his... He thought for a moment. Twenty-two or was it twenty-three Earth years? Cobwebs clogged his brain. He was pretty sure his Chinese features shouldn’t have so many wrinkles. He especially didn’t like the deep groove between the sparse eyebrows hovering almost nonexistent above almond shaped, bloodshot eyes. Grim lines surrounding his mouth emphasizing the thinness of his lips. He thumbed a token to get a cream to remove what little stubble grew from his gaunt face. His pale brown skin was scarred. A souvenir from the engagement responsible for his promotion. That battle had almost killed him. It had killed the squadron leader. He had enough med tokens to pay for a fix to the scar. His fingers traced the ragged healed cut running from his right cheek, down along his neck, to just under his left pectoral muscle. It didn’t look that bad on his skeleton thin, almost hairless body. At the end of his tour, he would trade the med tokens in for money. Maybe if he grew his hair longer it would cover the scar a little. His straight black hair reached his shoulders. Not military style by any code he knew. Pilots, though, were given a little more latitude thankfully.

He looked around to make sure he really was alone then took a quick whiff of his armpits. The shower tokens would be saved. He hopped back to his cubicle. His bed looked really good. Still warm. Easy to just flop into. Then again, there was that little something which had woken him up. Cursing again, he threw on his flight suit. Blue Box squad wasn’t launch due for another shift. Still, never hurt to be prepared. Hate to be unable to fly because of a fashion faux pas.

The sleepers slept on as he made his way out of the dorm and towards the Bridge. The crew he passed in the dimly lit, narrow corridors weren’t rushing. There was the right number of personnel for the current level of operations. No flashing lights or clamoring alarms. Normality. Completely mundane. He quickened his pace.

The Bridge was off limits to him. As far as the ship’s crew was concerned, he was just a passenger. That was fine with him. Squad Ops was his destination. It afforded the best view of the Bridge anyway. The security door recognized and allowed him onto the Bridge threshold and from there he went straight into the Squad Ops area.

Squad Ops Chief Telli stood alongside the duty Squad Ops Commander. That wasn’t normal. The SO Chief rarely joined the duty SO Commander on the deck. She usually preferred to observe from the Briefing Room. He nodded in acknowledgment when Telli caught sight of him. Her mane of grey hair was pulled back tight. Her dark brown face was clear but her eyes squinted with concern. She wasn’t bad looking. True, she was a bit on the old side, but she was trim and lean. He turned his attention to the display tracking all the in-flight squads interacting with the fleet. He didn’t need to ask what was going on. The Big Board said it all.

Gold Ghost squad was missing.

Gold Ghost squad was one of ten squads assigned to Mak’s ship, the DreadNought Exeter. Or just the X as the crew called her. Each squad had eight pods. A pod was a fighter, an extension of the massive firepower of the DreadNought.

DN X was a brutal sight. Somebody had described a DN as nothing more than a giant two by four with a bunch of engines stuck on one end. That was about accurate. The Hammer class cruisers and Raptor class destroyers supporting the X looked, as their crews were quick to describe them, sleek and sexy. Their sharp and shiny architecture, bristling with weaponry and instrumentation, defined how space ships should look. The X, on the other hand, was almost featureless. A long, black, brick bullying her way through space. No windows. No turrets. Nothing extraneous. Five of her six surfaces were dull and smooth, the sixth bulged with engines. She was a troop carrier, a platform for pod squads, and most of all, a dealer in violence. Her armor barely concealed weapons fully capable of destroying a planet. The X was an instrument of death bludgeoning her way to war. She dominated her Dime Group. Ten ships. The X and her nine ship escort. They were one of three Dimes that constituted Battle Group Cobra. BGC was a big fleet. Rumor said this was an invasion. The Unity was taking it right to the Kyrzal home world.

The Kyrzal War was a mere one year old. Initially, it was hardly a war at all. The Kyrzal had suddenly attacked the Unity, annexing three systems in a matter of weeks. The systems, easy targets, were not important. Still, they were Unity members. The Kyrzal were small fish with big ideas. Troublesome, but never showing this kind of belligerence before. The Unity, of which Earth was a founding member, had eventually dispatched a diplomatic task force along with a Nickel Group. The mission was just barely newsworthy. At first. The negotiations should have been no more than the diplomats laying down demands, and the Nickel Group backing them up. The Nickel hadn’t included a DreadNought. Arrogantly, the Unity had decided a Nickel was message enough. The Kyrzal, however, had apparently made some new friends. Friends who had given them some fun new toys. And with these fun new toys, they had destroyed the diplomatic task force. That got people’s attention big time.

The government controlled media finally had something which seemed almost interesting.

Who supplied the Kyrzal with these weapons?

We’re investigating.

Where did they get the money?

We’re not at liberty to say.

What’s the Unity’s response going to be?

That’s classified information.

Fantastic developments from the war! Tune in for the latest up-to-date information!

The Unity ended negotiations and went straight to threats. The Kyrzal marauded into other systems. The battles escalated, the war ramped up, and the media went wild. Rumors said that after months of unproductive fighting, the Unity had finally let the Kyrzal float to the top of their priority list. The enemy were finally going to get something they really didn’t want: The Unity’s undivided attention.

While in normal space, at least two squads from each DreadNought were always on patrol. Gold Ghost had been on point, ranging ahead of Battle Group Cobra, extending the X’s sensors via the pod’s own instruments. Mak scanned the Big Board. A gold line indicated Gold Ghost’s trajectory. It terminated at the edge of a small group of asteroids. One of the oddities in this quadrant. Clusters of rocks not associated with any star system. Rock clouds. They’d encountered dozens of them before. Some were small, only a few rocks clumped together in a relatively compact shape. Some were large, consisting of enough rock to make up a planet, spread over a wide area. Mak knew from his reading it wasn’t planet debris though. Nobody really knew what they were. They held no interest for BG Cobra. Navigating around or through them was uncomplicated. None of these clouds posed any threat. Sensors penetrated them easily. No ship of any kind could hide there. And this rock cloud was one of the smaller ones.

Two more lines tracked along the gold line: Red Raven and Silver Shark both from the X. Squads from the other DreadNoughts covered the perimeter. Silver Shark took a different approach to cover Red Raven.

Mak saw Th’han’dra looking down from the Squad Ops Briefing Room. He clambered up the steep metal stairs and passed through the door to sit beside her in the dimly lit room. Here, they could see not only Squad Ops but most of the Bridge. She nodded at him but gave no salute. He didn’t expect any. She’d been part of Blue Box long before he’d joined them. With a different brand of luck, she would have been Blue Box Leader. He didn’t think she cared but then she was a D’ha’ren, so he couldn’t really tell. He thought of her as mostly Human. Right number of fingers and toes. Proportions looked good. A casual glance in a dark room, and it’d be easy to mistake a D’ha’ren for a Human.

There was a hint of gold in her pale skin which glowed slightly as if her face was burnished. Her hair was greenish blonde and long, pulled back into a braid. Her eyes were yellow; the whites were very white. She was petite, thin, smaller than other D’ha’ren he knew. He was short at 5’6" but he felt like he towered over her. He found himself slouching in her presence, unused to looking down on anyone. Especially Th’han’dra. She was beautiful and smart, her experience in flying was far beyond his. When he first joined Blue Box, he could hardly mumble two words to her. Luckily, she hadn’t cared. At least he hoped she hadn’t cared.

Suth, the captain of the X, and Squad Ops Chief Telli were speaking by comm. Their conversation could not be heard, but he could see the captain at his Command Console looking at Telli through the armor glass separating Squad Ops from the rest of the Bridge. Telli looked back giving her appraisal of the situation in short bursts of information. He could tell they were discussing bringing the BG to a halt. The BG Commander-in-Chief, the leader of the Battle Group on the DreadNought Warszawa, would be informed but no decision would be made yet.

Battle Group Cobra’s mission was unknown to Mak. It wouldn’t have mattered to him normally but now… If the mission was time critical, they would not halt the BG. They’d leave Gold Ghost behind.

The Big Board didn’t tell him one thing.

What was Gold Ghost looking for? he asked Th’han’dra.

Detected metal in the cloud, she murmured.

D’ha’rens almost sang, rather than spoke. It was as if they were listening to some internal music. She rarely talked which was a shame. Listening to her speak was a real pleasure. Not just because it was great to hear her voice but because in a few words, she’d given him all the information he needed. Nobody, the X nor the other squads, had detected metal. And Gold Ghost had not found metal before their disappearing act.

Most importantly, however, nobody was finding the Gold Ghost pods.

No one knew why they were called pods. They just were. Maybe once they looked more pod like. Somebody told him it was because they lived in bays so they looked like peas in a pod. That made absolutely no sense to him. Whatever the origin, pods didn’t look anything like their names. They were huge, bigger than a house in LA back on Earth. Roughly spherical, they were made up of weapons, engines, some weapons, fuel, some more weapons, a small cockpit with life support, extra weapons, extra fuel, and a bunch more weapons. They weren’t meant to be stealthy. Nor subtle. And they didn’t hide real well. Maybe for a few seconds one could play hide and seek in a rock cloud but eight? Not a chance.

Silver Shark was running the perimeter, their pods spreading into a pattern to probe the rock cloud. Red Raven was splitting up. Two pods continued to follow Gold Ghost’s trajectory. The rest of the squad took up supporting positions.

White Wolf and Purple Panther were launching from the X.

Telli caught his eye. He held up one finger. Blue Box had one more hour of sleep scheduled. She looked away. If need be she could wake Blue Box. Other squads had only just begun their sleep shift. No need to wake them either.

Hammers and Raptors ranged ahead of the X towards the rock cloud.

The Big Board indicated two squads from each of the other DreadNoughts had launched. The other squads weren’t going to support Red Raven and Silver Shark. They were looking for a trap, an ambush, on the edges of the fleet. BG Cobra would have skirted the rock cloud in preparation for a Jump when they reached the other side. That much Mak knew. Jumping where? Like the vast majority of the people on the X, he’d find out when they got there. He hated Jumping. That was where the X shredded the laws of physics so a journey which would take light many years to travel would take just a few days.

The X’s captain didn’t like losing a squad. He relayed that to the BGC Commander-in-Chief who didn’t like unknowns. The Commander-in-Chief’s philosophy was destroy anything he didn’t understand. There was a subtle quickening of pace around the Bridge. BG Cobra was coming to a halt.

The captain of the X pointed three fingers at his first officer. The X was now on TOCSIN 3. If the X was home, it would be at TOCSIN 1. In normal operations, it was at TOCSIN 2. But something was up, so TOCSIN 3. No claxons, no alarms, but the right people were being summoned to their stations or put on alert. Just a change in rhythm.

The two Red Raven pods entered the rock cloud at the same point as Gold Ghost had. Gold Ghost had entered in much more dispersed formation, but the two Red Raven pods flew tightly together following the main Gold Ghost trajectory.

Mak touched a switch on his comm, and listened for squad chatter. Jokes and laughter usually clogged the channel. Now it was entirely silent as it should be except for the call of Red Raven 3 as it navigated the cloud.

Gold Ghost, came the deep and melodic voice of another D’ha’ren. This is Red Raven 3, please acknowledge.

Nothing.

Mak’s comm switched channels as the hail went out on all known frequencies including the emergencies.

Gold Ghost, Gold Ghost, please respond. This is Red Raven 3. The X misses you. Gold Ghost, Gold Ghost, please respond.

Mak tensed as the two Red Raven pods approached the last known position of Gold Ghost. They slowed. He knew the pilot of Red Raven 3. Being bait would put him in a really foul mood. When he returned to base, Mak would make sure to stay out of his way. Slowly the two Red Raven pods moved through the area following along the projected path.

Telli spoke softly to the duty Squad Ops Commander. He relayed the order to Red Raven.

The rest of Red Raven swooped into the rock cloud joining the two other pods. Red Raven exited at the other end of the cloud.

Telli nodded, and the Squad Ops Commander spoke again. Silver Shark entered the cloud.

They too exited without incident. And also without Gold Ghost. The two squads tried other maneuvers and different approaches. Nothing showed up. Nothing was found. Nothing.

Telli looked at the X’s captain. Gold Ghost was living up to it’s name.

Mak and Th’han’dra stood. Almost two and a half hours had passed. Nothing was going to happen now that involved them.

Food? Mak asked.

Th’han’dra nodded at the suggestion. Mak tried to stretch the coldness out of his spine. The X’s rhythm had definitely been disrupted.

The Exeter’s crew, mostly flight support, packed the mess hall, one of many spread throughout the ship.The Blue Box pilots had taken over a corner table. Rarely did the team eat breakfast together. Someone was always sleeping in. Usually Mak. He and Th’han’dra made their way through the food line, a mixture of people on different shift cycles, all grumbling about the wait or the food or both. Some got breakfast, others lunch or something more substantial. Mak got just enough food so he could conserve his food tokens. If he didn’t go over the magic free threshold, he’d cash those tokens out at the end of his tour of duty. Th’han’dra had already joined the squad table.

Blue Box was a varied group. Th’han’dra had the most seniority. She should have been Blue Box Leader. If it’d been up to him, she’d be wearing the insignia of Squad Leader not him. The engagement responsible for killing the former Leader and one other Blue Box pilot had almost killed her as well. Mak had clamped onto her injured pod with his own. He ordered others to do the same to the other disabled pods, then given that fateful order. Follow me! He wasn’t even next in the chain of command. But he had acted with a swiftness which surprised everyone, including him.

Later, he’d tried to explain he didn’t really know what he was doing, didn’t know where he was going, didn’t know what was happening. He just knew their asses badly needed saving. Running was suicide. Somebody said it was like the Charge of the Light Brigade. He’d had to look up what that meant. He was glad his ending had turned out a whole lot better. The Kyrzal had caught Blue Box in a bunched formation too close between enemy ships. The squad was outnumbered and outgunned, completely cooked. The Kyrzal figured Blue Box would turn tail. When the pods attacked right into the enemy’s middle, it caused a cascading panic in their ranks. And what should have been a total massacre of the pods turned into a stunning victory. At least that’s what the brass called it. Personally, he just thought they’d fouled up big time and gotten real, real lucky.

Th’han’dra had been in sick bay for weeks but she said she was coming back. He believed her. And she did. But by then, Leader had been stuck firmly in place next to his name. Not until she had taken her bunk, had he finally moved into the Leader’s cubicle.

Sometimes, while being bored into a little pile of dust in some meeting, he wondered about just turning the whole stupid thing over to her. Right now, she seemed to be doing most of the work anyway. She’d look over his shoulder, helping him struggle through the huge tedious pile of paperwork. Without her, he was sure none of the reports would ever get done properly. She was a great pilot, had everyone’s respect, and always looked so calm. She spoke only when she had to. What she said, and the way she said it, it made him feel like a tongue tied fool. Never did he feel her wanting to take it away from him. She had too much class. She could’ve though. He knew it. The squad had been with her longer than him. And she was Academy. Real military. Not a worm like him.

The two new pilots recruited into Blue Box to replace the dead, were young and straight out of flight school. Dakota and Sha. He drilled them personally in as many aspects of squad flying as possible. He even managed to get the other members of the team to volunteer to help mentor them. Something he wish had happened for him when he joined Blue Box. Th’han’dra had seen the value of it from the