Trophy: The Trophy Saga, #1

By Paul M. Schofield

In 2065 A.D. the environment collapses spawning plague that kills billions earth wide. The survivors are forced to take over every aspect of life. So begins the New Victorian Age. Now, 475 years later, the restored Earth and colonized Solar System are ruled by ten women Guardians who answer only to a governing computer, CENTRAL. But mankind faces extinction at the conclusion of the next generation. The Keyhole anomaly, a wormhole in space, offers a solution: time-travel to transport genetically sound humans from the past. Renegade nuclear engineer Louis Franelli has developed the technology of that time-travel. His employer, criminal and rebel Galen Bestmarke, is using it to go back to 1975 A.D. to collect hunting trophies and establish a slave-trade through time. The Empire is desperate to recover Franelli and his technology so they can use it to save mankind. The Planetary Control Corps (PCC) under the direction of the Guardians, Star-Commander Abigail VanDevere, and the dynamic young team of Lieutenant Janet Rogerton and Pilot Kolanna Montoombo face the daunting task of stopping Bestmarke and capturing Franelli. Can the determined officers of the PCC succeed? Can they do so in time?

Trophy is the first book of the Trophy Saga, a future look at a pivotal time in mankind's history. It tells the story of the continuing struggle to prevent the extinction of the human race. The Trophy Saga is pure science-fiction, not fantasy, written in the classic style. At the end of the book is a handy glossary that fills in many details about the setting.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul M. Schofield
• Release date: Aug 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9780984478033

Paul M. Schofield

“In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous.” ~Aristotle Born and raised in Montana, immersion in the natural world around me was inevitable. As I grew up, I learned the complexities of language and the joy of humor by the daily exchange of witty puns with my father. Just as Mark Twain said, “against the assault of laughter nothing can stand.” An avid reader, my favorite genre was science fiction by authors like Isaac Asimov and Frank Herbert and fantasy by J.R.R. Tolkien. Coming of age just in time to watch Star Trek, Star Wars and Babylon V, my love of science fiction grew and my desire to craft and share my own stories was ignited. And since, as Maya Angelou once said, “there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you”, I became a writer. When I became chilled to the bone in Montana, I moved to Florida. Now my wife Ellen and I live in Hollywood, FL, with our highly intelligent cats, thoroughly enjoying the sunshine and tropical breezes. “Science fiction writers foresee the inevitable, and although problems and catastrophes may be inevitable, solutions are not.” ~Isaac Asimov About my books My action-packed books feature time-travel, chase and battle scenes, fusion powered star-ships, a computer-controlled society, tender moments and scary episodes. Refreshing to read, they are free of explicit sex, profanity, graphic violence and paranormal themes.

Book preview

Chapter I

Earth Date: 475 N.V.A. (New Victorian Age)

Location: Kuiper Belt: trans-Neptunian region

Janet Rogerton studied the NAV screens, searching for the subtle clues to locate a cloaked ship. Any anomalies or shimmers on the screens yet? the young Lieutenant-Warden said to her pilot.

Nothing, Kolanna said, scanning her instruments. "The particle-stream sensors show nothing. The Black Eagle has to be here, the coordinate models all say so."

I don't like it, the squadron is bunched too tightly—we’re sitting ducks. I know what our orders say, but I hate being the bait in the trap—the bait always gets bitten.

Kolanna turned to her. I know and who'll take the first hit? I hope our cruiser is close and ready for action.

I hope so too, and that we're not caught in a cross-fire.

Ma’am, I caught a shimmer on the starboard flank, Warden Elizabeth Archer said.

I see it—it’s close, Rogerton said. Go to yellow alert.

Fading in and out, Archer said. Nothing’s showing now. The seconds crawled by turning to minutes; tension on the ship continued to grow. Screens still show nothing, Ma’am.

He’s here, I can feel it, Rogerton said. Alpha Squadron, go to red alert—all shields to maximum.

Ma’am, large ship decloaking on the starboard, Archer said. Weapons powering up and firing, hyper-lasers and pulse cannon!

Return fire! Rogerton said over the COM. Evasive maneuvers, pattern Epsilon Two. Target their engines—full power to all forward hyper-lasers. She fixed her attention on the NAV screens. "It's the Black Eagle. Concentrate fire on one spot. Take out their shields and hit their engines."

They’ve targeted Ship Three, Kolanna said. Ship Three’s shields are breaking down, almost gone.

Break off, Ship Three! Rogerton said. The twenty-five meter ship banked in a tight loop as a brilliant blue energy pulse narrowly missed. A second pulse blasted the reactor of the small ship, sending it slowly cart-wheeling, its power gone. Emergency lights flickered on.

"Cruiser decloaking behind Black Eagle, Archer said. Now we'll see some fire-power."

Break off attack, Rogerton said. "Give the Laurel some room to fight."

The powerful weapons of the Victorian Heavy-Cruiser Laurel blazed into action in a terrific display of power. Brilliant crimson colored hyper-lasers chiseled away at the shields of the Black Eagle while the continuous blue pulses of the ion-cannons slammed their rear shields, weakening them, blow by blow.

Suddenly the Black Eagle focused its formidable arsenal on the cruiser in a barrage of devastating energy. Its mighty fusion engines surged as it began to pull away from the Laurel. The deadly volleys of both ships continued to crackle and dance along the edges of their weakening shields.

Rogerton snapped on the COM to her remaining nine ships. "Alpha Squadron, circle tight to their stern, target both engines. When the Laurel breaks down their shields we can stop them. Go in straight and fast—pull up at the last second—attack pattern Gamma Four!" Her own ship led the charge directly at the Black Eagle's screaming engines.

The shields of both ships are collapsing! Kolanna said, her purple tinged eyes wide with adrenaline.

Concentrate hyper-lasers on the port engine, Rogerton said.

Pull up in five seconds! Kolanna said.

All nine ships continued firing, breaking off at the last second. They angled out in a precision move, swept around in tight circles, and focused their weapons on the engine again.

Port engine weakened, continue the pattern, Rogerton said. Their engines are powering up—watch out for the wake.  

"The Laurel’s shields have collapsed. Archer said. They're continuing to attack, but now they're vulnerable."

They're taking the heat, giving us one more chance, Rogerton said. "Hit the Black Eagle with everything you have!" All nine ships targeted the fleeing ship, the crimson beams of their hyper-lasers slashing at the engines.

"The Laurel is hit! Kolanna said. They're losing power and falling behind!"

"Black Eagle’s shields are gone, Archer said. Port engine is losing power."

Brace for attack—they’ll concentrate on us, Rogerton said. Continue to target the engines. If you’re hit once, break off, don't sacrifice yourself. The small Patrol Class ships bore down on the Black Eagle as it increased its laser fire. Ship Four—break off your attack!

Their engines are shutting down, now we have them, Kolanna said, but seconds later her hope withered. They’re cloaked again—they’ve disappeared.

Calculate their trajectory and target your probe-bombs, Rogerton said. "They’ll make steering changes with the thrusters—watch your particle-stream sensors and NAV screens. We've hurt them—don’t give up now—remember our sisters on Ship Three and the Laurel."

**********

Rogerton needed more coffee. Forty-eight hours of continuous pursuit only increased her frustration and she struggled to control her anger. Anger remained her last resort, her admission she couldn't think her way through a situation. Anger must be harnessed and channeled, not through the heart but with the mind, difficult for anyone, but expected from a trained officer of the New Victorian Empire.  

Times like this, perched on the edge of death and destruction, made her wonder why she joined the Corps. What drove her? Was it more than a family tradition of officers that reached back to half the age of the New Victorian Era? She remembered the first time she put on her dark forest-green uniform, how it fit her tall, athletic frame so well. It had brass buttons, a distinctive badge by her left shoulder signaling rank, and fine black and purple striping that enhanced the color of her eyes, a distinctive blue-green tinged with purple from years of artificial gravity. She remembered how proud she felt with that first look in the mirror. Was she thinking of battle and death then? She sighed and ran her fingers through shoulder length auburn hair.

She wondered again why she was here and not back home on Earth. She’d been anxious to join the Planetary Control Corps, the military arm of the Empire, but the glamour fixed in her imagination soon withered with her assignment in this vast empty region of the outer Solar System. Stretched thin in this huge area, Rogerton's small squadron struggled to keep pace with the normal duties of maintaining civil order, regulating trade, and search and rescue. Besides that, they contended with a complicated situation of criminal activity rapidly consuming more and more of their attention.

The fringes of the Solar System, far from the central government on Earth, made an easy place to hide. The darker elements of human society held sway in a subtle and often hidden system of operations far from the sun. All who lived out here, by choice or otherwise, literally existed in darkness. Within that literal darkness a gloom of spirit and antipathy against the Empire simmered in a climate of distrust.

Galen Bestmarke and his brother Terran, owners of the Black Eagle, had attacked Rogerton’s squadron and now her ships continued their pursuit. The Bestmarkes were wanted for crimes against the Empire with a long standing warrant for their capture. The real goal this time was the apprehension of their chief engineer, Louis Franelli; the Empire wanted him soon and they wanted him alive.  

Kolanna, what’s our ETA for the Keyhole? Rogerton said. Bestmarke is headed that direction and I know he’ll make a run for it.

At full speed—about twenty minutes—could be more, we don’t know the exact location.

This is our last chance to position our ships between Bestmarke and the Keyhole. The Star-Commander ordered Franelli taken alive. I’d rather destroy Bestmarke’s ship and be done with it—I’m tired of this cat and mouse game.

Agreed—full thrust in ten seconds, on my mark. All crew members strap in, Kolanna said, her voice mechanical, her exhaustion evident.

The small ship trembled as the engine surged to full thrust and the g-forces settled the crew into their gravity seats. Rogerton spoke over the COM system: Ships two and six, advance with the probe bombs. All other ships—fan out; continue same general heading at full speed. The target is probably headed for the Keyhole. Remember, Franelli must be taken alive. Remain at full alert—Rogerton out.  

She made a sweep of her instruments and NAV screens. With a deep sigh she leaned back in her gravity seat and reached for her cup nestled in its warming cavity. 

**********

Galen Bestmarke stared at the NAV screens. Fifteen lousy minutes, he said, pulling at the collar of his charcoal colored jacket. The Black Eagle shuddered as probe bombs detonated nearby. After a two day chase they were closing in. His ship remained invisible behind its cloak, but the searching pattern of explosions grew closer. Louis, are you finished yet? We have to fire up the engines—now! he said, his face beginning to flush.

Louis Franelli answered slowly without looking at him. Almost finished, boss, I have to get it right the first time. Those PCC ships won’t give us a second chance. He scowled at Galen, the lines of his face dark from exhaustion. It wasn’t me that got us in this mess in the first place.

Just fix it! Galen said, his face and neck reddening.

Space exploded behind them. The huge ship shuddered as Louis rushed to finish his repairs.

Hurry up—they've narrowed us down.

Calm down and give Louis some room to think, Terran said in a steady voice. Full partner, ship’s pilot, and Galen’s identical twin, Terran was emotionally his opposite. Louis is right, you know, you got us into this. You had to take a shot at those PCC ships, didn’t you? Terran looked him straight in the eyes. We could have coasted right on by—fully cloaked and undetected.

How did I know a cloaked Victorian cruiser was with them? They got a lucky shot at us, that’s all! But we nailed their cruiser, didn’t we?

It was more than luck, brother. They skillfully broke down our shields and knew just where to hit us. Their technology has improved, we’ve grown lax. Only our speed and our cloak saved us. And only Louis can get us out of trouble now.

It was still a lucky shot! Galen said. Hurry up, Louis!

Terran rolled his eyes and sighed. I'll be glad when this expedition of yours is finished. We need to get some income flowing again. Ever since Louis made it possible to use the Keyhole, you’ve been obsessed with your collection.

This will be the final trip for my collection, Galen said. He paused and took a deep breath. After this we can concentrate on business again. Don't forget, this trip is our concluding test before we implement our human relocation program. Once that's underway we’ll have more power and money than you ever dreamed possible! I promise!

You promise—right, how many times have I heard that?

No! I promise! This will be...

Cloak down, shields up! Louis said. The great ship rocked from the fierce explosion of a probe bomb hitting the rear shields.

The shields better be working, Louis! Galen said, veins bulging in his neck. Why’d you drop the cloak? Now every ship in the region will see us!

Louis turned from his screens and stared at him, answering in his deep voice. That probe bomb was going to hit us. The circuits are repaired, so I dropped the cloak and raised the shields. We had a few seconds to spare, a comfortable margin.

A comfortable margin, huh? You're sure of yourself, aren’t you?

Louis maintained his piercing stare. The circuits held, the shields are intact, the probe bomb exploded harmlessly. Is there is a problem?

No problem at all, Galen said, looking up from his NAV screens. You’re good, Louis, but don’t scare me like that. And if it happens again, give us a bigger margin. The Black Eagle shivered as another probe bomb hit the rear shields. We need to lose these patrol ships—now! Begin the engine start-up sequence.

Start-up sequence commencing, Louis said. He turned away with a disgusted look on his haggard face.

Galen scanned the NAV screens. They were twelve minutes from the Keyhole with the PCC ships closing in on them. He cursed the Empire for its controls, regulations, and constant harassment. Now they had a gauntlet to run. Would their ship be up to the challenge?

Chapter II

Galen flipped the COM switch. Stelle! You and the pouncer—get connected—action coming up!

Yes, sir, she said from the defense control cube located in the front of the ship. Estelle Fairfield served as a guider. She was strapped into her control seat and wired to her partner, Tommie, a five kilogram orange striped tabby cat sitting next to her. Tommie was a pouncer.  

They were a mentally-linked defensive team designed to protect the ship from incoming projectiles. The ship’s energy shields defended against the probe bombs, lasers, and other beam weapons, but the projectile weapons remained more difficult to counter. The combined consciousness of the feline-human mind-link reigned superior to computer control, and a strong emotional bond guaranteed the smooth interaction of a guider and a pouncer. If a guider didn’t love cats, the pouncer sensed it, dooming the chemistry of the partnership. With a mind link connecting the two of them, feelings could not be faked.  

Estelle wore a wireless head-gear set strapped over her short, blond hair. A tiny chip implanted surgically near her brain-stem created a direct wireless interface between her central nervous system and the head-gear she wore. This arrangement connected her to the ship’s central computer, allowing her to mentally control the ship’s weapons, steering, and power. Tommie was connected in a similar manner, then strapped into a special seat to prevent any movement. With the interface between Estelle and Tommie activated they were essentially of the same mind, interconnected to the ship’s main computer. This enabled them to make instant decisions to defend the ship.

The concept of a human-animal mind link was first discovered a century ago by a Guardian who had owned an exceptionally intelligent and responsive pet cat. Her studies and those of scientists after her led to the development of one of the Empire's most useful tools. Of all the domestic animals researched and tested at CENTRAL, cats remained the overwhelming choice for this kind of training. They easily accepted space travel and most ships allowed and encouraged cats because they helped control the vermin that always found a way aboard. But the Thought Modified and Controlled training, known as TMC, limited the number meeting the rigorous requirements. One of the key requirements highlighted their ability to think of doing things without the actual physical movement. With special training modifying their thought processes some cats could accomplish this. They learned to remain motionless while in their minds they ran, pounced, and killed their prey. Most cats couldn’t separate these actions.  

TMC cats could be trained to achieve various skill levels with a rating from one to seven. Tommie achieved a seven. But even properly trained cats needed guiding and control; they could sometimes panic or behave erratically. A competent guider could work wonders with a properly controlled pouncer. Guiders were selected women mentally matched with their cats for the life of the animal. Estelle had been matched with Tommie for three standard years. Daily training sessions maintained their skill level. During these sessions their thought processes harmonized in an interactive program much like a game. Estelle guided and encouraged Tommie through the game, giving him commands and exercises to keep him mentally sharp, and their relationship one of affection and trust. During a real situation Tommie continued seeing the program as a game. Only Estelle knew the true danger at hand, and her training to control feelings of fear or panic helped her mentally project calmness and well-being. This promoted stability and defused any panic situations, as far as the cat was concerned. Training sessions at random times prevented any regularity or anticipation of their time together. As a defense team they had to be ready at all times.

The rank of guider carried a secretive position in the Planetary Control Corps. Society in general and even some in the Corps grew uncomfortable with the mental linking of humans and animals, but CENTRAL considered it necessary for the defense of the fleet. Graduate women from the Academy with the brightest and most adaptive minds were chosen for the intense training. A high level of honor and dark prestige was associated with the skill, and if an officer became a renegade of the Empire the black market paid handsomely for the rare skill.

Estelle checked her instruments, confirming the status of the shielding. All shielding restored to full levels, boss.

Galen appreciated having a guider-pouncer team, a defensive luxury not many ships had, and he seemed content with their performance. Estelle had been with him for two and a half standard years but he still harbored doubts about her loyalty. Only a former Victorian officer could have her guider training and possess a fully trained cat; no other organization had the resources for the extensive and complicated training. By her own admission she was a renegade of the New Victorian Empire, and willingly submitted to complete scans before he hired her. She hadn’t given him reason for doubt; Galen just had a gut feeling. He didn’t trust women and he hated cats.

He asked her why she went renegade. A woman with her abilities could go far in the New Victorian Empire. What would cause her to give up the benefits and luxuries afforded to her? Was it hatred for the Empire? What was it that made her not only walk away, but become an enemy of an Empire that would have cultivated her talents and rewarded her handsomely for them? She said it was something on a personal level. Questions like these gnawed at Galen, occupying his mind more than he wanted to admit. Did she hate the Empire as much as he did? For as long as he could remember he and his twin brother Terran had despised the controlling authoritarian government that had been in power for nearly five centuries. He hated the absolute rule by women alone. Total female rule was unnatural. Didn’t the male animals assume dominance and lead the others? Didn’t ancient history also prove the rightful place of men as rulers? He would never accept or submit to total rule by women. He’d always resist in any manner he could.

Louis’s voice sounded over the COM system. One minute until the engines fire up. The PCC ships are on the NAV screen, boss. They know where we’re headed and they’re on an intercept course. We may outrun some of them, but now we have to show our hand. Now we go back into the fire.

Galen's five hundred meter long ship bristled with the armament of a Victorian cruiser. Everything was the best to be had and Louis had added his own touches to keep one step ahead of the Planetary Control Corps technology.

Galen strapped himself in at the controls. He wanted his fingers on the trigger in the coming fight. He left the piloting of the ship to Terran. He trusted him and the two had used a mental-link for five years. A pilot and gunner could also be mentally-linked, similar to a guider and pouncer. A Level I interface controlled what two humans needed or could endure. A deeper level interface invariably led to dominance by the stronger mind. A Level I interface had restraints and buffers to prevent total mental interaction, thus preventing dominance. Two linked individuals needed to fully trust each other and be well matched in thought processes, and having an identical twin made this easier.

Galen put on the headgear and hooked in the link. Terran was already connected and Galen felt the dream-like confusion of mixed emotions trying to focus as the interface gently pulled their independent thoughts together into the same flowing stream. Each maintained his individual side thoughts like currents or eddies along the edges of a clear but frighteningly deep river. Formless shapes could be felt in the deepness, some fearful, some vague, but all seemingly at the edge of a dream and just out of reach. He wondered if a Level II interface lead to those depths but his thinking changed and clarified as his thoughts come into focus with Terran’s.

Welcome to dreamland again, Terran thought.

Right—I’ll feel better when we reach the Keyhole, Galen thought. Is it on time and in the same position? I've planned and waited a long time for this trip. My collection’s nearly complete and the Empire’s not going to stop me now, not when I'm so close.

It's always on time but the location continually shifts. The PCC ships won’t know the exact location either.

The thirty second warning light flashed on. Maximum starting thrust in thirty seconds, Louis said.

Remembering to use his voice Galen barked out commands. Everyone strap in, rough ride coming up!

Check lights clicked on one by one as the rest of the crew members buckled in—six, seven, eight—nine—one more to go. Johnny, are you in? he said over the COM to his First Officer. The last light clicked on as the last seconds ticked off.

Here we go! Louis said with uncommon excitement. Maximum starting power!

The fusion thrusters shook the ship as they fired up to fifty percent. Any higher would push the thrusters through the ship, which was not designed for the substantially more powerful engines replacing the originals. The G-forces increased tremendously, pushing them into their specially designed gravity seats, the skin of their faces pulling back, their eyeballs sinking in. The inertia dampers struggled to control the G-forces, lowering them to a tolerable level safely below the life crushing pressure of maximum starting thrust. Louis now brought them up to full thrust in fifty seconds, twice as fast as any PCC ships nearby. His fine tuning was paying off.

Galen and Terran sat glued to the NAV screens, their thoughts racing faster than verbal communication would allow.

Where’s that blasted Keyhole? Galen thought.

It’s somewhere in the designated area, probably on the far side. Scanners will pick it up soon. Wait, it’s there—near the edge—ten minutes away, Terran thought. Look! Nine PCC ships! We’re ahead of five already and with luck we can beat three more coming in from the sides. That leaves one directly ahead and any more that might be cloaked.

Cloaked? I thought they didn’t have that technology on these small patrol ships.

They don’t, yet. But if they have another cruiser in the area, it will be. All we can do is wait and see.

Full thrust in ten seconds, Louis said, straining against the G-forces. Dampers at one-hundred-ten percent—all circuits holding.

Galen watched the seconds count down to zero and felt the increased rumble and vibration as the two Zenkati fusion engines roared like a matched binary star, somehow harnessed and barely controlled. He loved the raw power of his star ship. The vibration and G-forces shot up oppressively but started leveling off as the dampers worked to compensate, slowly gaining. The heavy gravity began to subside and Galen smiled, laughing to himself. He lived for action like this and his eyes gleamed with the rush of adrenalin.

You’re ready for the fight, aren’t you, Terran thought, chuckling in his mind. Not a mocking laugh but of understanding and camaraderie, as two knights side by side eagerly joining the battle, laughing as they ride forth to a nameless enemy.

Shields up and guns out! Galen said. We have a fight ahead! He twitched in his seat, straining against the subsiding G-forces. His smile revealed pure anticipation and pleasure.

Chapter III

Their ship is firing up the engines, Ma'am. Look! The acceleration is incredible! How can they possibly survive? Archer said, her eyes wide as she stared at the screens.

It's impressive, Rogerton said. Remember, they have Franelli. Bestmarke wasn’t a fool when he acquired him years ago. Those two are a dangerous combination, genius and ambition. It's rumored that Bestmarke interfaces with another human like a guider-pouncer team. Franelli, no doubt, worked that one out. She looked up from the screens. Franelli would have been on our side, but for the supposed logic of the Compu-Court. Efficiency at all costs—the cost this time has been high.

A junior officer broke in. Two minutes to intercept, Ma’am. Shall we raise our shields and ready our weapons?

Do it—status on our sister ships, Archer.

"Five behind him and three at the sides, but they can’t intercept. Bestmarke has outrun them all.

Reviews for Trophy

[laurafabiani · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I don't usually read sci-fi novels, so I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed Trophy, the first book in the New Victorian Empire saga. With plenty of action, interesting concepts and time travel, it was easy to keep turning the pages. Star Trek fans will enjoy this one.The story takes place over 500 years into the future where women are in positions of authority and the Earth and Solar System are ruled by CENTRAL—a massive computer government. The story revolves around Galen Bestmarke, a villain who has discovered how to time-travel with the help of Louis Franelli, a genius engineer who once worked for the New Victorian Empire. Lieutenant Janet Rogerton is on assignment to capture Bestmarke before he misuses this technology and puts the human race in peril.First-time author Schofield succeeds in building suspense and moving the action along. The descriptions and futuristic concepts of the space world setting—fusion-powered starships, space flights, advanced technology, the Keyhole, androids and battle strategies—were brilliant. The whole theory of the guider/pouncer link in which a trained crew member is mentally linked with an animal to fight in space battle was fascinating. The character developments of Martin and Panther and their work as a team was one of the most interesting aspects of the story.It's true there are some far-fetched ideas that didn't quite work for me because they needed further development. All the crew members and Planetary Control Corps were women. No men. I really had no idea what the men did on Earth or in space. It seemed unbalanced. The only men in the story were the few villains who rebelled against all-women rule. I liked the male characters better than the women, who came across as very idealistic, emotional and soft in a way that undermined their positions of authority. But then again, it's fiction, and the message of peaceful and just rule did come across strongly, which I did like. Galen was the best developed character, with dialogue and actions that suited his twisted persona well. I did feel that this novel would have benefited from better editing to polish the text from the overuse of ellipses (...) and using dialogue to explain back-story. But because Schofield is a very good storyteller, I was able to ignore these points and truly enjoy the novel. The ending is left open with many future possibilities. His next instalment should prove to be interesting, and I look forward to seeing how far this promising new author will go.