The Pirates of Sargassia

By Frank Calcagno

Sequel One of the award-winning Tales of the Antares Rangers Series...

The ferocious Wasatti race has been exterminated after a thousand years of bitter interstellar war. It is now twenty years later. Peace and harmony has spread throughout the local stellar systems, signaling a new age of prosperity to the citizens of three alien domains.

Peter Rising Sun Campbell—the proclaimed “Savior of the Galaxy”—has decided to shed his unsolicited notoriety. He is finally looking forward to something he has never experienced before: a “normal” life of relaxation and contentment away from the troubles of the universe and an admiring public eye. But a mysterious transaction committed by Sargassian smugglers has recently been uncovered near the shared boarder of three star empires that has stirred the meddlesome Al’Va into unprecedented activity. Once again, Peter Campbell is called upon to investigate what is going on, stop whatever he may discover, and soothe the concerns of the powerful Al’Va race.

And what is at stake is not only the private peace of Peter Campbell, but the peace of the entire galactic spur.

The 2015 Global Ebook Bronze Award winner for Science Fiction, The Second Human War, continues with The Pirates of Sargassia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Calcagno
• Release date: Sep 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310442155

Frank Calcagno

Frank Calcagno, Jr. works as a senior engineering geologist and security specialist in the Washington, D.C. area. He and his lovely wife have two wonderful daughters. Frank has been involved in soccer at all levels for over forty years, is an amateur astronomer, an avid reader, a fan of the Napoleonic Era, and a wargame designer/developer. He holds degrees from Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, Ohio.The Tales of the Antares Rangers is his first published series.

Book preview

Sequel to the 2015 Global Ebook Award Bronze Medal Winner for Science Fiction, The Second Human War

What others are saying about The Tales of the Antares Rangers

Professional quality sci-fi, slick with a techy overlay that generates interesting imagery. The core of human interaction keeps it grounded but off-world in its feel. Up there with stuff I read in my youth from Asimov and others.

— Michael Gray, author of 2150 Total Integration, www.authonomy.com

(Calcagno’s) imaginative technology is superb, whilst the astronomical information gives colour and credibility to this Sci Fi fantasy. Loved it.

— Katy Roberts, author of Phobic Dawn, www.authonomy.com

Loved this book (D’war’en Heir), and can’t wait for the next. Open and honest sci-fi with old-time values. I may (be) an older guy, but I’m still a kid at heart. Bring it on, Frank!

— Steve M., New Zealand, www.smashwords.com

The Pirates of Sargassia

Sequel 1 of the Tales of the Antares Rangers

By

Frank Calcagno Jr.

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * *

Copyright 2015 Frank Calcagno Jr.

By this author at Smashwords.com:

The Antares Rangers Universe

The First Human War - Tales of the Antares Rangers, Book 1

The D’war’en Heir - Tales of the Antares Rangers, Book 2

The Orb of Jabbah - Tales of the Antares Rangers, Book 3

The Wasatti Empire - Tales of the Antares Rangers, Book 4

The Second Human War - Tales of the Antares Rangers, Book 5

The Centauri Project - Prequel to the Tales of the Antares Rangers

The Pirates of Sargassia - Sequel 1 to the Tales of the Antares Rangers

Other works

Murder at Midnight on a Sailboat

Echoes From the Family Kitchen

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 work with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are 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.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 - Iota Persei System, Island 593, Planet Empire – Friday, December 31, 3362

CHAPTER 2 - Iota Persei System, Empire Station – Sunday, January 2, 3363

CHAPTER 3 - Beta Comae Berenices System, Orbiting Space Station – Thursday, July 17, 3377

CHAPTER 4 - Beta Comae Berenices System, Planet Jackson’s Landing – Friday, July 18, 3377

CHAPTER 5 - Planet Jackson’s Landing, Murchison Ranch – 2045 Hours, Friday, July 18, 3377

CHAPTER 6 - Theta Scorpii System, Sargassian Core Worlds – Thursday, July 27, 3522

CHAPTER 7 - Theta Scorpii System, Bes Reserve, the Clouds – Tuesday, November 14, 3522

CHAPTER 8 - Theta Scorpii System, Bes Reserve, the Clouds – Saturday, November 18, 3522

CHAPTER 9 - Theta Scorpii System, Shu Enclave, the Clouds – Saturday, January 27, 3523

CHAPTER 10 - Theta Scorpii System, Sung Station, Shu Enclave, the Clouds – Thursday, February 1, 3523

CHAPTER 11 - Theta Scorpii System, the Barren Void, Val Station – Friday, February 9, 3523

CHAPTER 12 - Theta Scorpii System, the Barren Void, Planet Nasir – Wednesday, February 14, 3523

CHAPTER 13 - Theta Scorpii System, the Barren Void, the Quarry Pit – Sunday, February 18, 3523

CHAPTER 14 - Theta Scorpii System, the Barren Void, Aboard the Zealot – Wednesday, February 21, 3523

CHAPTER 15 - Theta Scorpii System, Bes Reserve, the Clouds – Wednesday, May 2, 3523

CHAPTER 16 - Theta Scorpii System, Bes Reserve, the Clouds – Later that Day

CHAPTER 17 - Excerpt from the D’war’en Space Lords

CHAPTER 18 - Glossary

Acknowledgements

About the author

Connect with Frank Online

CHAPTER 1

Iota Persei System, Island 593, Planet Empire – Friday, December 31, 3362

The dusky morning air was saturated with mist—heavy with a sullen presence—and unseasonably chilly in the pre-dawn dew. Even so, it promised to be another beautiful day, as it always was at this location on the humid ocean world. Island 593 was one of the smaller islands among thousands jutting above the endless seas from horizon to horizon. It was carefully chosen as one of the most inconspicuous spots within the Ten Colonial Worlds. It was a place where a person could leave civilization far behind—a place to move about without fear of running into another soul.

And for the first ten days in a glorious month-long vacation, it had delivered exactly as advertised. True, the galaxy was still spinning around its turbulent core, sweeping people up in their petty little concerns, but from this location you’d never know it—it was as though no one else existed to the far corners of the universe. And for that reason alone, Island 593 was the perfect location.

* * *

The bedroom curtain silently danced to a mild gust of wind, sending a chill over the bed. She tugged the delicate sheet over her bare shoulder to escape the draft entering the room from the open window. Rolling onto her stomach, she searched out for a little warmth, causing her companion at her side to stir from his slumber. She thought about trying to fall back to sleep, but now that her mind had activated she knew that further sleep would be impossible.

Another day, another adventure. The thought made her chuckle; adventure indeed.

She opened her eyes to a deep indigo sky, rapidly transitioning into the delicate shades and strands of salmon mixed within lemon chiffon rising above the surging surf of Empire’s largest ocean.

Henrietta Maria Moreira de los Santos-Campbell. It was still strange to her ears, but she did like the sound of it.

Sound of what? Peter projected telepathically, still dreaming peacefully.

Nothing, my darling, Henrietta mentally replied. Go back to sleep, she whispered.

Peter’s ability to read minds and project thoughts had blossomed after they used the D’war’en Orb device to bring him back to life after his heroic fight with the now dead Wasatti king. Peter had actually lost that battle—dying at the talons of the ferocious alien leader—and it was Henrietta who stepped in to save the day; yet history seemed to overlook that small little fact. But that was okay with Henrietta. She had accumulated enough fame to fill ten lifetimes, thank you very much.

The living starship, Perry, had sacrificed his life to save his captain by transferring all of his life-force through the Orb with the help of Henrietta and Alffinnr, their D’war’en friend. And in the process, they inadvertently gave Peter the added gift of the powerful D’war’en mental proficiency of mind projection. Oh, meu Deus, she still broke out in cold sweats when she thought about that fight. And try as she might, Henrietta could never scrub that terrible day from her memories.

She glanced at her new husband, snoring gently at her side. He’s so beautiful, she thought. She drank in his raven hair, his muscled shoulders, and his prominent cheeks, so characteristic of Earth’s ancient Northern Cheyenne.

The corners of his lips turned upward. You’re just saying that ’cause it’s true, Peter projected.

The little rat’s awake! She gave her husband a gentle shove with her elbow.

Ouch, that hurt! Peter opened his dreamy blue eyes, the sole physical trait he inherited from his loving father. His smile widened. But not as beautiful as you, Peter added. He reached over and brushed his lips against her cheek. He then knuckled the sleep from his fluttering eyes, coming fully awake. So, what’s in store for today?

Whatever you want, Henrietta replied. We still have the kayak for another day.

After spending a year on Peter’s homeworld of Stagecoach and consolidating their hard-won victory over the alien Wasatti Empire, the young couple flew back to Earth to get married in her ancestral home town in the Brazil Province. She only had a few very distant relatives left on Earth after a thousand years of fighting the war through their numerous hyperjumps through space. But that was all she had left of her past, especially after the Wasatti had killed her parents at the secret research base that had started all their adventures. It brought us together, she realized, feeling slightly guilty about the fleeting thought.

Henrietta instantly realized that Peter had once again overheard her thoughts but was polite enough not to reply, also picking up on the melancholy memories that followed their past like a dark, persistent shadow.

He lost a lot too, she reflected.

Peter reached his arm around her shoulder and gave her a silent hug. Without words, they had spoken volumes to each other in that small, simple act.

Henrietta tried to clear her mind from their troubled past.

After the wedding, they boarded yet another starship and came to planet Empire for their honeymoon, mostly to get away from the unwelcomed notoriety they received as the saviors of the galaxy. Because of the vast distances covered by those two voyages through space, they’d spent twenty years sleeping through K-T-space since the war had ended, but in the process had aged only a little over a year; and that occurred mostly during their stay on Stagecoach, the location of the final battle of the Second Human War. That made Henrietta almost twenty–seven and a half, and Peter just shy of twenty–eight. My God; soon he’ll be thirty! That can’t be.

We were only fourteen years old when we first got lost in space, weren’t we?

I guess, Peter replied, stifling a yawn. Seems so long ago.

Henrietta pushed her fingers through her silky brown hair to offset the damages a night of sleep inflicted on the usual perfection. It was. What date was that?

Peter shrugged. I don’t know; 2364?

I think it was the year after, Henrietta replied. You’d think I’d remember the date my parents died.

Peter reached over Henrietta’s prone body for the bedside table, temporarily flattening her against her stomach. She playfully struggled against the unexpected weight to get him off.

Ignoring his squirming wife, Peter switched on his Personal Assistant. When was the attack on the VCB?

The PAD chimed. *THE WASATTI SNEAK ATTACK ON THE VEGA CONSTRUCTION BASE OCCURRED ON JANUARY 29, 2365*

You were right, Arietta, Peter replied. 2365.

Yeah, but it really doesn’t matter, does it? Henrietta forced Peter back to his side of the bed and sat up. She peered through the transparent aluminum doors at the incoming waves crashing below the jagged cliffs. It’s so beautiful here, she reflected, listening to the melody of the pounding surf. It could make a good home.

Peter absently scratched at his chin. I suppose so.

And now there’s not a care in the Colonies, the newlywed wife sighed. Peace and happiness for everyone.

She reflected on everything they had accomplished; and on what they had lost. They had stared danger straight in the face as naïve young teenagers without flinching, and had heroically changed the course of history for five galactic civilizations; hopefully for the better. Let’s paddle out to that ocean knoll. I don’t think it’s too far, do you? We’ll have lunch there.

Okay. But how about some breakfast first, Peter offered.

Henrietta shook her head. Food, food, food; what is it with boys, anyway?

Hey, when you look like Adonis ....

Henrietta snorted. More like Sagittarius. You eat like a horse.

Peter nuzzled his forehead against her back and neighed. Gotta keep up my strength.

* * *

The on-duty Communications Officer at Empire Station tugged at the ephemeral icon floating above the portable Dark Energy Chamber, placing the President of the Ten Colonial Worlds on temporary hold. It was technology provided to the humans by their Al’Va allies which allowed for instantaneous communication between locations throughout the local galactic spur. More times than not, activation of the chambers signaled a momentous event—and not necessarily of the good kind. Ma’am, I think we should get Ms. Corolla up here. President Essen is asking for them.

The Officer of the Day turned to her Com Officer. The Campbells? she asked. Everyone agreed they were not to be disturbed.

I know, Ma’am, but it’s the President himself, Com replied. He’s calling from New Cap.

Not one of his aides? the OOD asked, puzzled at the added surprise.

No, Ma’am; it’s Stiles Essen. I never thought I’d get to talk to the Old Man in person. The Com Officer cleared his throat before continuing. He hoped he didn’t appear as nervous as he really felt. Ms. Corolla should know what to do.

Carol Corolla was one of the original human slaves of the Wasatti occupiers up here on Empire Station 180 years ago, when Peter and his crew swept through the Colonies during the Second Human War. She had actually participated in the liberation efforts, passing through hyperspace from one planet to another and cleaning up the remaining resistance behind the UCSA Sampson K. Perry and the famous crew so many years ago. But Carol Corolla was still in her mid-twenties from all her suspended space travel, just like the old crew from the Perry. And while the Campbell’s vacationed on a remote island on their planet—isolated from the rest of the universe—Carol Corolla stood watch up here on the station, just like a mother hen protecting her precious eggs. And no one wanted to anger Ms. Corolla if they could help it. She was not actually the administrator of Empire Space, but everyone seemed to defer to her opinions whenever she was in-system. After all, she had seen it all; right from the start.

Well, we can’t keep President Essen waiting, the OOD replied. "Page Ms. Corolla, and let her handle the Old Man."

Aye-aye. The Com Officer thrust his hands into his Com Unit to make the connections, and to request Carol Corolla’s presence up in the Command Center.

Whatever the news would be, the Com Officer was very glad it was the OOD’s turn at command today, and not his.

* * *

They fought the strong incoming tide for the whole three mile trip out to the rocky offshore promontory protruding enticingly out of the sea; but both he and Henrietta were in prime physical condition, and each stroke of their paddles surged them through the ocean swells.

There’s some pretty rock formations here, Peter observed. Some of them were hidden from shore. He dug his paddle into the water to brake the outside of the kayak, forcing Henrietta’s end of their little boat to swing gently toward the shingled shoreline. The tip of his paddle brushed against the hard sea bottom and he pushed the kayak farther toward the knoll, making it easier for his wife to step out.

Yeah, but no sandy beach, Henrietta replied unhappily.

The tides must be sweeping it clean, Peter guessed.

Henrietta pitched her paddle onto the shore and stepped out of the kayak, slipping on the smooth, mossy rocks. She fell to one knee, but kept from going under in a show of athleticism worthy of a prime ballerina.

You okay? Peter asked.

Fine, Henrietta snapped.

Peter could tell she was not happy about her clumsy landfall, but she eased his mind to let him know she was unhurt. He sensed a twinge of pain from her skinned knee, though.

Don’t you dare make fun of me, she warned.

I wouldn’t think of it.

Don’t you lie! You already thought of it three times.

But I didn’t say anything, he noted.

True. You’re learning. She stood up and steadied the boat for Peter as he stepped out of the kayak. The water’s colder here, she noted.

Yeah, it is. He reached back to the boat and retrieved their daypack from the watertight compartment. He felt something buzzing inside the soft bag. Oh, no, Peter breathed. He sensed Henrietta reading his mind, so he didn’t need to finish his sour thoughts. Instead, he pulled the prow of the boat onto the shore and walked the backpack to dry land. Henrietta gathered the paddles and sat down heavily next to him.

Peter rummaged through the pack until he found his PAD. I knew I shouldn’t have brought this thing with us.

I told you, Henrietta reminded him.

Peter gave her a stern look, which she easily returned. Open message, he instructed his PAD.

*PRIORITY MESSAGE FROM CAROL COROLLA SENT TWENTY MINUTES AGO*

Peter glanced at his wife before responding. Connect.

Carol’s face materialized on his PAD screen. Peter, we were starting to worry.

Peter noticed Alffinnr standing behind Carol in the background. The stout D’war’en young man waved a friendly greeting. He looks much older now with that stubble beard, Peter reflected. He and Carol were in the Command Center of the space station staring into the Com Unit. Hi, Cece, Peter offered. We just got out of our kayak. We’re offshore.

Carol smiled timidly. Sorry to interrupt. Alf insisted we turn on your PAD’s GPS, but I wouldn’t let them. I was about to change my mind, though.

That’s okay, Peter replied. What’s up?

You got your handheld DEC receiver with you? Cece asked.

Before the Al’Va left human space, Peter could only use the large stationary Chambers constructed on critical planets around the local group of stars to communicate with people in other solar systems, but now Peter and the human race had access to the instantaneous communication devices that could be carried by hand; and more importantly, that could be used on starships. Peter nodded solemnly.

Stiles and Simi need to talk to you, Cece reported. There’s trouble on the border. Nothing too bad, though, from what I gather.

Stiles was one of the five original student explorers that had escaped the VCB during the Wasatti attack. Way back then, he was the same age as the others on the ship, but because he stepped off the Perry to assume leadership of the Colonies shortly after they returned to human space, he ended up spending much less time in hyperspace sleep than did the others as the war dragged on throughout the Ten Colonies. As a result, Stiles was now in his mature sixties, while his former accomplices were still in their mid- to late-twenties.

After Stiles settled down on New Capital—the center of the human Colonial government—he married the former Sargassian destroyer captain, Simi da’Cor. They met on the Al’Va space station while the other members from Perry were searching the Al’Va planet for the mystical Orb of D’war’en antiquity. Alffinnr’s home star blew up fifty thousand years ago and the Al’Va relocated their doomed civilization to another planetary system. But because of the harsh conditions on their new planet, the D’war’en reverted back to pre-industrial technology. And because the powerful telekinetic Orb device could not be trusted with the unstable de-evolved D’war’en, the meddlesome Al’Va hid the Orb on their own planet until a time when the D’war’en could regain their former sense of responsibility. That event—what the Al’Va had called the Prophesies—had occurred when Peter delivered Alffinnr to the Al’Va home planet of Myaza. It was the event the Al’Va were waiting for to stop the Wasatti menace from spreading throughout the galactic arm.

At the same time, Simi’s people—the Sargassian race—were also on the Al’Va station trying to acquire the rumored Orb by any means, including theft if necessary. The Sargassians back then had recently been defeated by the insectoid Wasatti Empire and were on the verge of extinction, and they would have done anything to stay alive.

Scattered throughout their local stellar system and struggling for the life of their species, Simi’s shipmates were responsible for obtaining the rumored Orb, the most powerful weapon ever created. No one knew what the Orb could do, but the Sargassians wanted it desperately. Simi’s job was to infiltrate Peter’s crew—who for some unknown reason had been granted unprecedented access to planet Myaza by the Al’Va to find the Orb. In the process, one of her shipmates had killed one of Perry’s crew—which devastated Stiles for bringing them down to the planet. He thought he and Simi were in love. Simi had nothing to do with the murder, but Stiles was not convinced. Only later, when Simi returned to human space with a Sargassian fleet to help defeat the Wasatti Empire for the final time, did Stiles forgive her. Now, they were married with a family of mixed Human-Sargassian children.

Peter made a sour face. And Stiles needs to talk to me about this because ...?

You know Stiles, Cece replied. He trusts you. Plus, he probably can’t stand knowing you’re having a good time.

Peter chuckled at Cece’s comment. Stiles was a real pain, not only to him but for all his other former classmates while they were growing up. In fact, Stiles had actually tried to kill him and Henrietta to gain control of the ship early in their voyages. Trying to kill Peter was one thing, but Peter drew the line at Henrietta. He wondered if he could ever truly forgive Stiles for that unthinkable indiscretion. But the boy had changed after Jimmy was murdered by that Sargassian security officer, knowing full well that it was his fault. He almost became human, and for Stiles, that was something.

And I suppose he wants me to call him now.

Cece frowned. That’s what he said.

Does he know we’re still on our honeymoon? Henrietta interjected.

I made sure he knew, Cece replied. He actually apologized.

Yeah; and I almost choked when I heard that, Alffinnr added from the background of the station.

Apologies are not always sincere, Henrietta noted.

When is Stiles ever sincere? Peter asked.

Henrietta shrugged. This can’t be good, though, she projected mentally.

No, it can’t, Peter admitted silently in return. He turned back to his PAD. What time is it for him on New Cap?

Cece glanced at the station wall. It’s 0326 there; the middle of the night.

And he’s waiting for me?

Cece nodded. He and Simi; they contacted the station direct.

Peter sighed. Alright; let me see what he wants.

Henrietta shouldered into view. Thanks loads, Cece, she quipped. I owe you one. If you and Alf ever get hitched, I’ll be sure to call in to see how it’s going on your honeymoon.

Hey, c’mon, Alffinnr complained.

Cece shoved Alffinnr out of view of the monitor. She turned back to the honeymooners. I know; hopefully it’s nothing. Enjoy the day. It looks nice down there.

Peter studied the endless horizon, listening to the gentle breeze rustle through the trees behind the beach. It was .... He disconnected the PAD and dug through his pack again. He placed the DEC receiver on a rock pedestal and activated it, twisting the floating icon to sync with the Presidential residence on New Capital. He reluctantly squeezed the ephemeral control to complete the connection.

A 3-D image of