The 28th Gate: Volume 5

By Christopher C. Dimond

Hunter is back in Season III! But the Dagger isn’t the only Civilization shuttle in the gate ring.

After the devastating betrayal, Hunter and the Independent Militia are struggling to keep Maunhouser from enslaving the entire gate ring. But the arrival of The Observer from Civilization might not mean the help they were hoping for.

Whether fetching equipment The Observer needs, training insurrection cells on corp worlds, or searching for a saboteur on the Celestial, Hunter has plenty to stay busy. But will it be enough to keep Maunhouser at bay as they begin massing their ships for a war-ending assault?

Find out now in The 28th Gate: Volume 5!

Set in a far distant future, The 28th Gate is a series of tales that will appeal of fans of space marines, space fleets, and military hard science fiction. The series consists of eight volumes spread across four seasons telling the story of Hunter’s struggles against the AAA corporation that created him. Each volume contains six episodic novelettes each with the action, character, and plotting of a complete story all crammed into an espresso-like package, while each season chronicles a different arc in the overall epic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: UDW Publishing
• Release date: May 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781948619042

Book preview

The 28th Gate: Volume 5

The 28th Gate: Volume 5

Season III

Christopher C. Dimond

UDW Publishing

Copyright © 2019 by Christopher C. Dimond

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2019

ISBN: 9781948619042

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Cover design by Christopher C. Dimond

Copyediting by Janine Savage of Write Divas, LLC

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UDW Publishing

A division of Unlimited Diamond Works, LLC

Seabrook, TX

www.UnlimitedDiamondWorks.com

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

Dedication

For the guardians…

Contents

Acknowledgments

The 28th Gate

Book I

The Observer

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Book II

CUMA

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

About the Author

Acknowledgments

I am indebted to the generous and ongoing support of my friends and family.

I also wish to thank my ARC team for providing insightful comments and support, including (in no particular order) Chris Renaudo, B.K. Foster, Andrew Leighton-sims, Stuart Cliffe, Richard Mabry, Paul Coulson, Tin Nunn, Mark Tombling, and Karen Love.

Finally, this series would not exist without my amazing wife, who has served for years now as both sounding board and cheerleader for my stories.

The 28th Gate

Season III: Volume 5

Book I

Season III

The Observer

Episode One

An Egix microburst missile pod; a pair of SolRaDe-rated heavy rotary autocannons; and quad-mounted, multipivot pulse lasers—I’d had time to arm the Dagger well in the rev since I helped Maunhouser cripple the Oversight and Review Board and inadvertently threw the entire gate ring into war. With those upgrades, my little Civ shuttle had enough firepower to hold its own against most of the corporate starfighters out there, and it had the speed and maneuverability to make it dangerous to heavy fighters and light assault craft alike.

Of course, that was necessary, because my Dagger had seen a lot of combat in the subrevs since I last sent my plea to Civilization, most of it against Maunhouser and their growing coalition of allies. But during that time in combat I’d learned how to leverage the Dagger’s speed and maneuverability to get me through more than a few tight spots, since there wasn’t another ship like it in the ring.

But that was about to change.

I rolled the Dagger hard, slipping past the pair of missiles tracking me, and then tumbled around to destroy them with the pulse lasers. After that I spun the Dagger, deciding it was only appropriate to return the favor. I caught a quick targeting lock and launched my own missiles, their propellant leaving little streaks in space as they soared away through the maelstrom of fighters around me. But I didn’t have time to watch as I caught sight of another Underhelm Corp fighter sweeping past.

I spun, locking on with my multipivot pulse lasers and fired a sustained blast. Bright sparks flew from the engine bay of the fighter as its engines ignited, hurling the remains of the ship into a spinning tumble. But even as it continued away, I was already moving on to another target, this time a fighter chasing one of my wingmates.

Shaw, tuck high, I called over the comms, spinning the Dagger around to level the twin heavy rotary autocannons. Shaw hit the thrusters hard and his fighter jumped, but the Underhelm fighter followed—tracking right through my field of fire. The Dagger’s twin autocannons tore the lightly armored fighter to shreds, ploughing through canopy and midsection alike.

Thanks for that, Shaw called. I just grunted an acknowledgment.

Watch out, Hunter, Nichols added. I think you’ve drawn their attention. We’ve got another full squadron inbound.

On it, I replied. It wasn’t the first time I’d garnered unwanted attention. Flying one of the most identifiable fighters in the ring will do that for you, I suppose. Quatra once mentioned her intel reported contests and rewards for the destruction of my Dagger, but they’d have to catch me first.

I spun the Dagger and accelerated toward the oncoming ships, kicking into a tumble while firing everything I had. My autocannons clipped one enemy fighter’s wing and the force of the hit kicked it into a slight tumble. The pilot, of course, adjusted, but not before I could bring the pulse lasers around and open fire. The fighter took three pulses before it detonated, throwing debris toward the other fighters. They dodged, and while they were distracted, I launched a pair of microburst missiles. When the missiles detonated in the middle of the squadron, it was a lot harder for the fighters to dodge. I destroyed three of them with the cloud of micro munitions and figure I hit a dozen more, causing the entire squadron to pull back to regroup.

Nice! Shaw called. But I bet you can’t—

That’s enough, Fleet Four. Time to withdraw, Greene interrupted across the fleetwide comms from where he was leading the fight in Fleet Four’s second-class battleship. There’s nothing more we can do here. We’ll focus on holding the planet and let Underhelm move on through the gate.

It wasn’t the news I wanted to hear, but he was right. In this battle, a mild loss was better than a costly win, and that was only if we could have pulled off the win at all.

And that was when the gate opened, its brilliant portal spilling light in the distance.

Oh, that’s just what we need, Nichols muttered over the squadron comms. More reinforcements.

I didn’t pay much attention. Any reinforcements coming through the gate now would be too far away to cause any problems for us, even if they would strengthen the enemy’s line.

But apparently Quatra had been monitoring from the Celestial a few systems away. And she thought otherwise. Hunter, do you see what just came through the gate?

I glanced again in that direction. The sensors on the Dagger showed only a solitary vessel with the basic specs of a small unarmed shuttle. But I almost did a double take—it was a shuttle exactly the same size and shape as the Dagger.

That’s a Civ shuttle! I cried.

The Underhelm fleet is already moving to secure it, Greene added.

Hunter, we need that ship, Quatra said. If it came from Civilization, you must be the one first to reach it.

I’m on it, I replied, spinning the Dagger around to make a straight shot for the gate. At my angle, I’d pass the retreating Underhelm fighters, but I hoped their larger ships wouldn’t be able to fire on me.

Give me a screen, I called to my squadron. I need to reach the gate.

I pushed the engines hard, launching forward. A single squadron from the Underhelm fleet started to give chase, while the others were already setting a course for the gate.

But I had an advantage Underhelm wasn’t aware of—I had the equipment to communicate with the new ship.

Unidentified vessel, this is Hunter representing the Citizens Unincorporated Militia.

Ah, a droll voice replied. I was told I might have to search for you. How convenient to have found you so promptly.

You mean the Collective sent you? I asked.

That is correct, the voice replied, as though unimpressed by my deduction. My name is Teium Elmshar. I was sent by the Collective to serve as an official observer here in the Black Gates.

Observer of what? I asked. I asked for help. There are people dying here. We don’t need observation.

I was sent to assess the present state of affairs in the ring of Black Gates. After the Collective received your last message, it became a source of much concern. Following a prolonged discussion, they decided we could not leave the Black Gates unaided. Thus, I am here to offer humanitarian assistance on the worlds where it is needed most.

Good, I replied. In that case, we need to get you back to Selma III. That’s where the largest refugee camps are. But we have to move. Now.

I fail to appreciate your insistence on haste, The Observer replied.

Most of the ships coming in behind me are aligned with Maunhouser. I doubt they’ll bother with negations. They’ll just take your shuttle for its tech.

The Observer made a displeased sound at the back of his throat. "Yes, well. I was instructed to begin offering aid with your organization. His emphasis on the word implied he believed it to be anything but. Thus, I will follow you as you request."

Good, I said. Standby. I switched channels to Greene and Quatra. The shuttle’s pilot is ready to follow me, but we’re about to have company. I need some cover.

Fleet Four won’t reach you in time, Greene replied. I recommend you retreat through the gate.

But there are just more Maunhouser forces down ring, I countered.

"The Celestial is on its way, Quatra replied. We’re jumping now. Just find somewhere safe and we’ll meet you."

And Fleet Four will keep the Underhelm fleet from following, Greene added.

Acknowledged, I replied, switching back to the Civ comm system. Alright, Observer. We’re jumping through the gate.

Splendid, he replied with what I could only assume was derisive sarcasm.

We made it two jumps before we met Quatra and the Celestial with the rest of Fleet One, which then escorted us back to Selma III. On the way, we held formal introductions in Quatra’s main conference room, including myself, Quatra, Katherine, and Aretz. Along the walls, images of the others connected via Q-com included Kyrshaw, Greene, and Zyser as the fleet captains of Fleets Two, Three, and Four, and Curdloe from Selma III as a representative of the Citizens Unincorporated Council.

Once everyone was settled, The Observer began. As I have already stated, my name is Teium Elmshar. I was sent by the Collective to serve as an official observer to offer humanitarian aid.

We are gratified you have come, Quatra replied. To say nothing of how glad we are that you were able to avoid Underhelm’s forces to reach us. But, please, what kind of aid have you brought?

I have been authorized to share relevant technology with you, on the simple condition that it is not to be used in any military operations. I am not here to choose sides. I am here to save lives.

Greene didn’t look happy by the response, but Curdloe seemed confused.

"Perhaps you could clarify what you mean by share relevant technology. We were told you arrived in a small shuttle like the one you sent Hunter back in. If so, I can’t imagine you were able to bring very much with you."

The Observer leveled a cold stare at the screen with Curdloe’s image. I am quite sure I have brought more than you are capable of fathoming. But your imaginative capabilities are irrelevant. He turned back to the others in the room. I have a storage device containing the technical details of an assortment of technologies you might benefit from. I am also in possession of a periodic uplink to the Collective, by which I may request additional knowledge as necessary.

Katherine and Aretz, the two researchers in the room, shared a quick glance.

You mean, then, Aretz started, that you won’t simply give us what you brought? You intend to dole it out piecemeal?

The Collective decided this would be the safest method of information transfer, The Observer replied, his tone taking on a lofty hint of condescension. There are, after all, concerns that we may destabilize your society with the rapid introduction of technology too advanced for your understanding.

Aretz looked rather annoyed by the implicit insult. Beside me, Katherine also seemed upset by the answer and I sensed she was about to press the issue, but Quatra interrupted before she could.

We understand your reluctance, though I hope you will reconsider in the future. But for now, what are you prepared to share?

The Observer nodded. That, of course, will depend on what is needed.

Quatra shot a glance to Kyrshaw, but he remained silent while she turned to Curdloe.

Frank, you’ve been working with CUMA to settle refugees. What would you say is needed?

To phrase it simply, Curdloe replied, everything. Food, housing, clothing. Some of these poor people have arrived without even—

The Observer held up a hand, interrupting him. With respect, he said derisively, I would prefer to make my own assessments of what is most in need. Until then, I must insist that you not attempt to persuade my decisions.

Curdloe looked stunned, but still managed a gracious smile. Quatra’s eyes were also beginning to show her frustration. But she still smiled.

In that case, I suppose we won’t have much to discuss until we reach Selma III. In the meantime, if you’d like remote footage of—

The Observer held his hand up again and simply shook his head.

Of course, Quatra replied. Then I’ll have someone show you to the quarters we’ve arranged. And if you need anything else, she added, please don’t hesitate to ask.

Quatra summoned an aide who led The Observer from the room and the various Q-com displays began to shut down. Well, most of them. As I started to leave, I noticed one remained active.

I cannot say I like this, Kyrshaw started. I slowed, lingering by the door so I could hear what he had to say.

Quatra shrugged. I understand, Nathaniel. But what are we going to say? We need to show him the camps around CUMA.

Kyrshaw nodded. "I wish to be there. Fleet Two has been running escort for convoys returning through the Selma system. Besides, the Defiance could use some time for repairs. I could be on Selma III by the time the Celestial arrives with minimal down time for my fleet. He gave Quatra a smile. With your permission, of course."

She smiled back. "You know I enjoy any excuse to see you. And I suppose you’re right. You have seen more of the refugee convoys through space than anyone else, so it could be useful to have your firsthand perspective. Schedule your repairs for the Defiance and any of the other ships in Fleet Two that need it."

Kyrshaw gave a brisk nod, then a slow smile. As always, I shall look forward to seeing you.

I slipped back out the door before they could realize I was still there.

As much as it must have frustrated Quatra that The Observer refused to discuss any important matters until he’d seen the situation for himself, she channeled her frustration well. We hadn’t even been in orbit around Selma III for half a chron before she, Katherine, and I were in a shuttle heading to the surface with The Observer.

We landed at the small port at the base of her tower to meet Curdloe and Kyrshaw. Then the five of us took the shuttle out to the closest of the refugee camps.

Many of the residents here walk to CUMA, Curdloe explained along the way. But it is a rather long walk for those unaccustomed.

The camp itself was a sprawling maze of ramshackle construction and temporary textile structures. It was one of the oldest of the camps, set up just after Maunhouser made its move against Oversight, yet it was still painfully temporary despite most of its residents having lived there for many subrevs.

As we left the shuttle and approached the edge of the camp, a voice rose from the distance. You! the voice roared from behind us in the shuttle port. "What are you doing here?"

I spun and found myself facing a figure I hadn’t expected to meet again—a figure with six limbs. He had the normal ones plus two massive mechanical arms. Gerrard Gonsmerry.

Me? I countered. What are you doing here? The last time I’d seen him was when I dropped him back at his home on Selma VII after cashing in the bounty he’d placed on his own head. It didn’t help that he’d nearly killed me while trying to escape. Again.

I brought a crew of others from Selma VII to help the refugees.

I gave him a scowl. Never figured you for the humanitarian type.

Gonsmerry threw his shoulders back, straightening to his full and considerable height as he gestured with one of his mechanical arms to the structures around us. These poor souls have lost everything! Even if we haven’t much on Selma VII, we can still offer aid.

And we appreciate all the support you’ve provided, Quatra added, moving to stand beside me.

Gonsmerry paused, as though finally realizing that I was with a group.

Perhaps you would care to join us for the tour of the camp? Curdloe suggested. He threw a glance to The Observer. Gerrard and his people have helped a great deal here and in the other camps.

Gonsmerry offered a quick shake of his head. "I’ve no interest in distracting you. I was just surprised to see him here, he added with a gesture toward me. Besides, I’ve work to finish. But let me know if you need anything later, Frank."

Curdloe gave Gonsmerry a wave as the man turned and started back toward a pile of large crates he had been moving.

Do you employ many workers in these camps? The Observer asked.

Curdloe shook his head and our group returned to our goal. Very few, actually. Gerrard there is a volunteer, as are most of the people you’ll see working in the camps.

We continued and soon were surrounded by the buildings of the largest camp on Selma III. Within a few moments, Quatra and Curdloe each wore the haggard but determined expressions I’d come to expect when they visited the camps, while Katherine and Kyrshaw each looked around with similar airs of sadness.

The Observer, though, seemed appalled. Why haven’t these people established dwellings? he asked with a hint of anger in his tone.

We haven’t the resources, Quatra replied. The planet’s energy generation is already beyond safe capacity, and we’re barely keeping up with food and water demands. If we accept many more refugees, we’ll have to start shipping in goods to support them.

The Observer’s face twisted in disbelief. Then you shouldn’t have accepted so many. Clearly, you have done these people a grave disservice.

That is a blind simplification, Kyrshaw retorted, passion kindling in his voice. These poor souls have fled dire circumstances. Most arrive here with nothing more than what they are able to carry. Plenty spent all they owned just to arrange safe transportation—to say nothing of those so desperate they willingly place themselves at risk in the misguided hope a rogue smuggler or outlaw will see them through.

The Observer’s disbelief continued. Then they should not have left their homes at all. Food, housing, safety—if all these things were present where they were, they were fools to abandon it.

And when such things were lacking? Kyrshaw challenged. "What then? What of the threat of war? What of the risk of raiders? What of the fears about enslavement at the hands of a hostile corporation? These people did not brave the horrors they faced or the challenges they continue to endure because of a flippant desire to leech off the good fortunes of others. They fled because they feared for their lives