Star Frontier: Intrepid: Star Frontier

By Hamish Spiers

A search for answers and a fight for survival…

 

A rogue shipboard computer. The pursuit of a ghost ship. And first contact with a genocidal enemy.

 

Jiang Sarra, now an intelligence agent for the Frontier nation of Laonist must reason with a shipboard computer that has taken her and all its passengers off course.

 

Meanwhile, two Phalamkian fighter pilots—Adeline Chandra and Sonja Mira—track down a ghost ship unlike anything in known space.

But the worst is yet to come as the Frontier is about to be thrown into a confrontation with a hitherto unknown enemy hellbent on its destruction…

 

Fast-paced and good fun, Intrepid is classic Star Frontier.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hamish Spiers
• Release date: May 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648547969

Book preview

The First Prologue

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The woman raced through the darkened corridor, clutching at a blaster wound in her side with one hand and sliding off a backpack with the other.

Her gaze a mix of determination and mortal fear, she opened a door and stepped into a room that many ships had but one that was not often used. The lifeboat launch bay.

A crouching figure by the nearest lifeboat hatch launched itself at her. Startled by the ambush, the woman slung her backpack into the figure, knocking it to the ground. A testament to the weight of the bag and her strength in carrying it all that way. The sprawled figure tried to regain its footing but the woman didn’t let it. Letting go of her wound, she grabbed a sidearm from her belt and shot it three times in quick succession.

The pallid human in an enclosed gray suit, replete with an airtight helmet, collapsed and she watched as it tried—and failed—to get back up.

So, she grunted, her voice laced with contempt, you can’t jump bodies if your host one’s dying. Good to know.

Ignoring the fallen creature, she opened her backpack and rummaged through a small assortment of tools, explosives and cables. Finding what she was after, she pulled out a welding torch and sealed the entrance to the launch bay.

As she finished the job, she heard banging in a nearby corridor. Her pursuers had reached the next hatchway she’d sealed.

Her lips pressed together in grim resolution, she put the welding torch aside and started assembling the compact—but very powerful—explosives.

The dying gray suited figure on the deck beside her stirred and spoke, its voice wheezy and echoing within the confines of its helmet. We have thrived for millennia. Yet I’ve never seen such stubborn resistance from an individual as I have from you.

Shut up, the woman muttered, shuffling several feet away and pulling out some cables.

You mustn’t hate us, the figure pleaded. We do not act with malice. We live as we were designed to. Bodies inevitably decay, ours in a matter of years. We must take on new forms or die.

Die then! the woman snapped, still concentrating on her work. You think your survival is more important than all the people you’ve annihilated? You think you’re more important than the young woman whose body you’ve stolen? Tara Delann was thirty-eight and had many good years ahead of her. And she was worth a thousand of you.

But she’s not dead, the figure said in an insistent voice. Tara’s voice, which it had stolen along with her body. Tara Delann still lives within me. All she was. All she knew. I hold all her memories, along with the knowledge and memories of thousands of others. Something our creators never intended. Civilizations otherwise lost to the ages live on within me.

Meaningless semantics and a grandiose, self-serving argument, the woman replied. Your people are vermin and I’m going to personally see to it that every last one of you is wiped out.

Your people made us!

The words cut through the din and for a moment, the woman sat still, hearing almost nothing else around her—just the sound of her breathing and her heart thudding in her chest.

She turned to the dying figure. What did you say?

I said your people—

A crash reverberated through the ship and heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.

Finished with her work, the woman shoved the explosives against the door and hit the timing switch. She’d heard what the creature had said. The words echoed through her head again and again but she couldn’t think about it now. In a few moments, its companions would arrive and if she didn’t escape now, there wouldn’t be a later.

Feeling both horrified and intrigued, she took one last glance at the figure sprawled across the floor, grabbed the welding torch and the bag, and scrambled into the nearest lifeboat.

Sitting on the bench inside, she strapped herself in, pulled the release lever and with a hiss and a noise like a thunderclap, the lifeboat was jettisoned.

Moments later, a group of gray suited figures broke into the launch bay... and the ship exploded.

The Second Prologue

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A man and a woman stood before a metallic humanoid in the corner of a cluttered room. Several more of the things stood in alcoves along the walls, connected by wires to mysterious panels and things that glowed and hummed.

They look rather plain, don’t they? the man remarked. He was the older of the pair by a number of years, with graying hair and lined features. He also had a slight limp as he’d lost a leg in the Levarc War and now had an artificial one in its place.

The woman, unencumbered by any such injuries, was the opposite. She was young with dark hair and there was a healthy glow to her skin. But an intense gaze in her eyes made her look older than her years.

She shrugged in reply to the man’s remark. I think they look stylish.

Okay, maybe plain is the wrong word, the man conceded. I just mean—

They’re metal bodies with smooth surfaces, the woman said. No ridges across the armored plates or engraved symbols to look fancy. That’s all. But I think that’s good. They’re simple and elegant. And the visors for the faces give them some personality too.

The man ran his hand over the one nearest to them. Well, it’s more handsome than I am. I’ll give it that.

The woman swallowed and turned her intense eyes to him. Major Dayson, are you sure you want to go through with this?

The man smiled at her. Believe me, Kaeli, when you’ve had twenty years of phantom limb pain, the idea of encasing your brain in a metal box doesn’t sound so bad. But, really, I’ve thought it over. No pain. No hunger. No need to worry about disease and illness. He turned back to the metal body. I’m looking forward to it. My men and I will do your mother proud.

Kaeli nodded. I know. She opened her mouth to say more and hesitated. The major, still admiring the mechanical marvel in front of him, didn’t notice. Mother still wants drones in the group.

Dayson turned back, frowning. Why? We’ve been over this already. We don’t need any drones.

There are lots of reasons, Kaeli told him, her expression now earnest. Trust me, she has complete faith in you and the men you’ve picked... but we’re in unchartered waters here. Think of it as a bit of extra insurance. The procedure’s complicated and it costs a lot of money on top of that, so we couldn’t exclusively use cyborgs even if we wanted to. And if anything goes wrong during the procedure—not that I think there’s anything to worry about, of course—then the drones will at least give us something we can fall back on.

Dayson shrugged. All right. But I’ll show Lady Ramanas that a human mind in one of these things is better than a drone any day.

Well, if you’re fighting side by side with the drones, Kaeli pointed out, you’ll get that chance.

The Third Prologue

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A course correction?

The young man at the navigation station frowned as he read the information scrolling across the screen. That’s what the computer says, Captain. The automatic systems are kicking in. We’re going to decelerate to sublight speed in just over two minutes unless I override them.

The captain, four decades older than the navigator and a veteran of both the Levarc War and the resistance movement against Corinthe, considered her options. You charted the course, Tavaal. Do you think it needs correcting?

It shouldn’t, the navigator replied, still reading the incoming data. But the computer reports a large gravitational mass directly in our path. If it’s right, we need to drop to sublight speed and recalculate everything.

The captain frowned. If it’s right? Do you think the computer’s in error?

Tavaal drew in a sharp breath. "Well, according to the charts, there shouldn’t be anything at those coordinates. Although, I suppose the charts could be wrong."

Well, we’ll have our answer soon enough, the captain said. Let the ship bring us out of lightspeed. We can afford a few minutes for a course correction.

Okay, Captain.

The captain turned her attention to the viewscreen of the Narvashae Ranger she’d been given for this light assignment. All hands, yellow alert. We’re making an unscheduled course correction. Charge repeating cannons and bring our long-range scanners online. Time to deceleration, Tavaal?

T minus eighty-three seconds, Captain.

The captain kept her eyes fixed on the viewscreen until the ship resumed sublight speed. She frowned as blazing lights appeared in the distance. A cloud of bright objects at close proximity.

Scanners?

Meteor activity, the female Calae at the radar replied. About eight billion cubic kilometers of it.

Tavaal, the captain said. The nearest two crossroads to port and starboard. What are they?

Tavaal checked his instruments. To port, Blue 367. To starboard, Red 385.

Then we’re on red alert. That’s the Arei meteor shower out there so we’re well and truly off course. Tavaal, set us a new one. Alaish, are there any ships on radar?

The Calae radar officer shook her head. The heat signatures from those meteorites are clouding the instruments. I’m sifting the nearest signatures through a filter program. Wait—heavyweight cruiser incoming. Twenty degrees by two-seventy off our port prow.

Make?

"A vintage Guardian Heavy Cruiser hull... and a ton of modern upgrades. And it’s broadcasting a Vollud Union naval ID. The Dawnbringer."

That’s Lady Ramanas, the captain said, turning to her navigator. Is our course set, Tavaal?

Yes, Captain.

Good. Helm—get us underway.

The ship lurched—then with a grind of metal against metal, painful to the ear, it lilted to port and drifted.

Captain, the engines are overheated! the helmsman called out.

Without warning, the captain strode to the communications officer, grabbed the middle-aged man’s collar and hauled him out of his chair. You know, I’ve had my suspicions about you for a few days now, Meiris, but I think this little charade’s just confirmed them. Transmitted anything to your friends out there that you want me to know about?

The man chuckled. You’re quick, Captain Lara. I’ll give you that. And you certainly made it tough to get the job done.

I can make things tougher still, Captain Lara told him, shoving him back in his chair. You tampered with our navigation charts, sabotaged the ship and now you’ve transmitted something to a third party.

Meiris jerked his thumb toward the viewscreen, now displaying the incoming cruiser. But that’s a Vollud Union naval vessel out there, Captain. And the last time I checked, they were still part of the United Frontier. So we’re all friends here.

I doubt anyone else will see it that way, Lara replied. What did you send Lady Ramanas?

Meiris grinned. Just embarrassing pictures from our last office party.

Very funny, Meiris.

Well, I do my best, Meiris replied. Now, you might want to power down your weapons. That ship out there is only waiting around now to pick me up. If you let me go unharmed, Lady Ramanas won’t touch the rest of you. Or this precious ship. Her words.

Captain Lara fixed Meiris with her best glare. She can have you.

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A minute later, the Dawnbringer was gone and Meiris with it.

Alaish shook her head and gave a snort, a rather animalistic Calae sound the species rarely used around non-Calae. "That piece of filth. He’s like a tamarnk."

Lara sighed. "I don’t know what a tamarnk is, Alaish, but I think they’d bear the brunt of that insult. Engineering?"

We’re all right, came the reply. Everything’s coming back online.

Helm, Lara said. Stand by.

Captain, Alaish interjected, I just found out what Meiris transmitted.

Lara leaned over Alaish’s console and frowned. I don’t get it. Drone soldiers were phased out over fifty years ago. Why would anyone want schematics for them?

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On the bridge of the Dawnbringer, a woman in a form fitting black uniform, years older than her appearance suggested, switched on a communicator built into her chair. Has Meiris been placed in his quarters?

Yes, mother, another woman answered. Do you plan to pay him his due or have him shot?

The woman smiled at her daughter’s remark. "For a man with such questionable morality, those options would amount to the same thing. However, the designs appear to be as comprehensive as he claimed so he fulfilled his end of the bargain. He may not be of any further use to us personally but if we can place him safely outside the jurisdiction of all the enemies he’s just made, he’ll be proof we keep our word.

Now, if you’d be so kind, Kaeli, give Meiris his payment and show him the list of worlds we’ve selected for him. Do tell him to choose carefully though as whichever one he decides on, it’s unlikely he’ll ever be able to leave it.

Yes, Mother.

Thank you, Kaeli. The woman ended the transmission and stood up. Communications, she announced, I expect a representative from our government will be contacting us shortly. Demanding answers, promising retribution or a little of both. Please divert the call to my quarters when it comes through.

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Ellast Two, the rather unimaginatively named sister planet of Ellast was a mostly lifeless world with some scattered enclosed biospheres now used by the Ellast navy, leftovers from a long abandoned terraforming project. It was a quiet world but the skies above it were a different matter. The outer shipyards in high orbit—built around a ten kilometer long orbital station with numerous pylons, construction docks and adjunct stations—were a hive of activity and about to get busier.

From the outer system, two modified Guardian Heavy Cruisers approached and a number of patrol gunboats raced out from the shipyards to engage them.

But the approaching ships were not attacking the shipyards as first appeared. As the gunboats drew closer, the Guardians moved to contain them... while three frigate sized vessels left the shipyards and disappeared. The Guardian Heavy Cruisers left straight afterward, without engaging the gunboats any further. And the naval headquarters on Ellast received the report from the shipyards soon after.

"The Dawnbringer and the Morning Star have left the system, the station commander said, taking the following vessels: one vintage Carabinier-class frigate, a beat-up Tanemi Grandeur and a Narvashae Grand Galleon."

The communications officer on Ellast logged the information. Copy that. Thank you. Also, command would like to know what your security footage turned up.

Um... the station commander hesitated. I’m not sure if they’ll believe this or not. We identified no perpetrators near or on any of the stolen ships.

You mean you saw no one?

That’s right, the commander replied. "Our best guess is that a secondary line of programming was entered into each of the ships’ computers some time before this little heist. And when Lady Ramanas diverted our defenses just now, this ghost programming took full control of the automatic systems. Engines. Steering. Navigation. Maybe weapons as well. These ships flew themselves out."

1. The Other Woman

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It was a pretty night, Jiang Sarra thought. Laonist’s moon shone bright in the dark sky, far beyond the reach of the artificial light emanating from the shops and restaurants lining each side of this picturesque esplanade. This city, Esec, was pretty but Jiang found the whole planet quite agreeable. It wouldn’t be the worst place to settle.

Still with me, Jiang? the brunette woman across the table asked, putting down her coffee. You look like you’re daydreaming.

Jiang smiled at her companion. Alia Casdan. She was the one who’d suggested working for the Laonist naval forces in the first place. Although it was a natural suggestion since for Alia, Laonist was home.

Well, technically, it’s not daytime, Jiang pointed out. I was just thinking about planting roots here.

Esec? Alia asked.

Jiang shrugged. Anywhere on Laonist really.

Alia nodded. Well, we can’t hang around Drackson and Naima forever. Not if there are going to be wedding bells.

Jiang took a sip of her own coffee. I don’t think Harskans marry, but I know what you mean. It was beginning to get a bit awkward. Still though. It was fun while it lasted.

Well, she thought to herself, most of the time at least. That business on Imraec Tarc three years back wasn’t something she’d care to relive though.

But investigating criminal networks and shutting down pirate operations with Drackson and Naima—both Harskans—had been an interesting experience.  And while on occasions, Jiang missed her days as an agent in the Federation Department of Security, she’d never regretted her decision to pull up roots and join Drackson’s team.

The new arrangement, working with the Laonist Naval Forces, was a little bit like the best of both worlds. She was part of something larger, like she’d been in the Federation, but she was allowed a fair amount of autonomy in how she worked too, as had been the case when she’d been working with Drackson. Which reminded her...

By the way, she said. I’m going to be heading offworld for a few weeks.

Alia nodded, smiling. Right. Talk about settling down. And then talk about taking off.

Just for a few weeks, Jiang reminded her.

So you said. What are you up to? Alia gave her a mock scowl. And why wasn’t I invited?

Well, you’re working as a high level engineer now, Jiang pointed out, chuckling. And this is an investigation. I’m going to the Vollud Union to see if I can find any leads on Lady Ramanas.

Alia frowned. She stole those ships from the Ellast Two shipyards recently, didn’t she? And some schematics for drone soldiers a few weeks before that.

And she’s also acquired all the schematics she could from the cyborg technology Vismach and I found on Imraec Tarc, Jiang said. "Although she didn’t break any laws doing that. But yes, that’s the woman I’m talking about. No one cares about her interest in cyborg technology and not a lot of people seem to care about that thing with the drone soldier schematics. But the ships she stole are another matter. Since she managed to program those ships to steal themselves, that got people’s attention a bit. Now we’ve got a few hot heads who apparently want to scatter ships across the Frontier to hunt down the Dawnbringer and the Morning Star. But the more level-headed people who understand just how big space is are in favor of a more traditional approach. Hence the assignment. By the way, what do you know about the program parameters for ship behavior?"

Why? Alia jested. Haven’t you read up on it yet? Jiang, I’m surprised.

Well, Jiang replied, "I know most ships—even small ones—are more than capable of running themselves. However, there’s a great degree of difference in just how much control their owners grant them. Military ships versus passenger liners is the obvious example. In a large cruiser, every little system is overseen by a member of the crew whereas a passenger liner will frequently be given control over things like the helm and environmental controls. But there are generally limitations put in place. For instance, a passenger liner wouldn’t be capable of using any of its internal security defenses to injure or kill any of its crew members or passengers. Not that it would ever be inclined to do that, but that’s a simple behavioral parameter for you."

Alia nodded in approval. That’s good.

And to change any of these parameters is supposed to be very difficult, right?

Yeah, that’s right, Alia said. I’m no novice when it comes to ships but I couldn’t do it. I’d imagine there’d be only a handful of programmers in the Frontier or the Federation who could pull it off. It’d almost be up there with reverse engineering a Harskan Cortek. Heaps of people can manufacture ship computers but hardly any of them would know where the safeguards for the behavioral parameters are hidden. There’s just a jumble of coding that they don’t understand but they know not to mess with. So if Lady Ramanas can get ships to steal themselves, she must have access to some serious programmers.

Jiang nodded and pulled out a pad. That’s what I think. She passed the pad across the table. In fact, she may be one herself.

Alia took a look at it and frowned. What’s this?

Old Epsilon Vollud records of one Deima Kamais, Jiang said. "Minstrahn migrant and in no way whatsoever related to the late Lord Ramanas. Sure, she’s