Remember The Yorktown: Gravity, #1

By Jeremy Kester

War seems inevitable as the Democratic Alliance, the ruling body of Earth and its closest planetary neighbors begin to stretch their influence to Saturn and beyond. Years before, the Alliance abandoned those worlds leaving them to fend for themselves in hopes that it would bring the colonials back on their knees. But that never happened. And with riches beyond the Alliance border, it is a temptation they can no longer resist.
Haden and Adrianna served the Alliance as their love for each other grew. That was until he died on a mission. Now, Adrianna will embark on a mission with the secret vessel, the Yorktown, while it attempts to disrupt the trade routes that enable the outer worlds to thrive. She left Earth in hopes to escape sadness that gripped her. What she might find there is more than she ever believed possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeremy Kester
• Release date: May 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201132583

Book preview

For Carla

Modern science says: 'The sun is the past, the earth is the present, the moon is the future.' From an incandescent mass we have originated, and into a frozen mass we shall turn. Merciless is the law of nature, and rapidly and irresistibly we are drawn to our doom.

Nikola Tesla

Chapter 1

Bodies Collide

20 August 2274

There is little light out here. When you are this far out in space, there isn't much to supply one with light. Even the Sun, as close as it may be relative to all other stars, can get lost in the background.

Haden Rachid watched the emptiness closely, looking for the only other sources that light came from: vessels. His smuggling had taken him through this space on many occasions, but never before had he seen the Alliance out in this part of the solar system before.

This territory was still under no legitimate rule. No one had claim on it except for scientists, colonists, smugglers, pirates, and only the most daring or wealthy of corporations. The outer world colonies of Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and beyond had long since shunned Alliance rule, and in doing so, they now had to raid the black-market for supplies when other trade failed (which it often did). Small tertiary governments existed, but nothing large enough to encompass any more than a small moon or station. Despite this, a small trade network had formed. And small traders such as Haden now serviced these routes.

Haden and many others have made careers as thieves, smugglers, and transporters, taking great risks in procuring supplies and information and then running them into the outer worlds and back.

Pirates and competing smugglers were the only concerns he typically had. Facing Alliance ships was rare – impossible even – but he knew it was their radiation signature that he saw. Surely they were not venturing out beyond the borders on peaceful terms.

How they could get so close before he noticed them was a concern, too.

With little hope of escaping otherwise, he switched off all the ship's systems to eliminate possible radiation signatures. It would be a long shot, as those signatures existed anyway, if only being more difficult to source while powered down. Powered down, he had some fifteen minutes of air... if he calmed his nerves. With his experience, he could stretch that fifteen minutes to twenty, if he calmed down. But even twenty minutes wouldn't afford him any success in evading the ship. He cursed for not catching it sooner.

A steady rhythm of his heartbeat pounded in the silence. Focusing, he tried to calm it. This was unlike him; he was able to remain calm in even the direst of conditions. The strangeness of the situation broke his concentration. Shit, he thought to himself. I'm being a damned amateur.

He held his breath, then slowly exhaled, focusing on counting the seconds as he did so. The pulsing feeling in his ears dropped and the steady rhythm slowed.

Being calm, he worked to conserve air. He wished he hadn't needed to use the emergency supply three days prior. Or why he opted to not refill it at his last stop – the stop where it always tasted of grease because they forewent cleaning their systems. Tasting grease was better than asphyxiation. He would have almost 6 hours of oxygen to use if he hadn't skipped that.

He cursed his past self.

Through the black, he finally saw what his scanners had shown. It was the Alliance. It was an average vessel – about the size of a frigate – but like nothing he's seen before. Regardless of its size, Haden knew he would be out-gunned and outmatched for speed. Retrofits and upgraded weapons sufficient to take on Alliance ships cost far more money than he had. And why spend resources on a sliver of a chance...

Radiation, such as heat, was how ships detected another without being close enough for a visual. Depending on the ship's design, heat would dissipate slowly or quickly. His ship was a smaller cargo vessel, only outfitted for one person to live and the rest for cargo. He never conditioned the cargo hold, and with the heat-sinks outfitted years ago, it made it tougher to trace from his ship. Other radiation was not so easily dispersed, though, and he was still at risk.

He only hoped that the Alliance had failed to see his radiation signature, confused it with celestial anomalies, or simply ignored it depending on their purpose. He could then power up and make his escape when they passed far enough away. But there just was no longer enough time to test that theory. The needle on the breathable air gauge was buried in the red. He was out of air.

Haden watched the vessel change course towards his position. To worsen the situation, he felt himself get sleepy. Oxygen was below safe limits. Survival meant he would have to power-up his ship.

He had no choice.

I'm fucking dead, he thought as he started the ignition sequence to his ship. The burst of radiation would surely alert the Alliance ship had they not already known.

The second that his communication console came online, he received a message.

He sucked in the burst of air as the converters came to life. Shit, shit, shit, he hissed as he waited for his ship to be ready to move. The heat sinks worked too well in cooling his ship outside of the living quarters. Immediately, he switched on his weapons systems. That move would slow the readiness of his ship by diverting power from the engines, but he knew he had to be ready for anything at this point.

Again, his communications lit up. He switched to audio only.

Unidentified vessel, a voice said. This is the DASS Yorktown. Our weapons are trained on your coordinates. Power down your engines and await further instruction. Please comply.

A ghost of his past seemed to step out from the shadows as he heard the voice. It held with it a familiarity he didn't believe. He looked at a picture he kept above his control panel. The voice was not clear, but it felt like it was her. It can't be, he said. The thought of her froze him in time. It had been seven years since he had seen her last.

Snapping himself back, he answered their request without transmitting: to hell I will. It was a futile response. Only the rail-guns were ready to fire. He had much stronger fusion cannons, but they were much more delayed in readiness. Even so, they would be ineffective other than as a diversion.

But they were all he had.

His was an older ship, designed for short range trade. Mainly between Earth, its moon, and Mars. Nowhere in its original design was it fitted for being this far out in the solar system. Modifications made later on outfitted the ship to enable the longer routes in the outer worlds. Equipped with the original design were the rail-guns. Their high-velocity projectiles were at one point strong enough to shred through the hulls of most other ships. Now magnetic and energy fields, plus stronger hull designs, made the rail-guns increasingly useless. They could do some damage, but it was insufficient.

His best bet would be to target the Yorktown's plasma cannons and hope that the projectiles from the rail-guns caused enough damage and buy him some time.

If he couldn't negotiate–

A plasma blast passed the bow of Haden's ship. He watched as the energy passed and caused his instruments to flicker. With it came another message. I repeat, the voice said, adopting a more serious tone. Power down your vessel immediately. Comply, and you will be spared. It was a lie, Haden believed.

He replied, I'm sorry. My ship has been malfunctioning. I cannot gain control of my engines. I am working on repairs. It was a reciprocal lie, one he hoped would work.

Power down. We will dock with your vessel momentarily, the voice from the Yorktown said. Little more explanation was given. They were going to disappear he and his ship.

Fuck, he yelled as he punched the console. His fusion cannons were still offline. According to the displays, they were lagging far behind the readiness of the engines. He wished he had a better ship. Sorry, my docking clamps are broken, he replied to the Yorktown.

The Yorktown delayed a little in replying. Your ship will tie to the Yorktown to accompany us to the nearest port. The Democratic Alliance is placing your ship under impound.

Finally! he yelled as his ship was finally ready for maneuvering.

The fusion cannons were still powering up. Even still, he had no reasonable options left but to surrender. Being taken by the Alliance was not an alternative option, though.

Quickly, he swung the ship around to face the Yorktown. He fired a series of blasts from the rail-guns directed at the Yorktown's plasma cannons. The projectiles narrowly missed and simply bounced off of the hull, deflected by magnetic fields.

Shit! Haden yelled. He was more than worried now. He was dead. That was a certainty, given what he knew of Alliance firepower. If a blast even clipped his ship, he'd be dead. And right then, a plasma blast hit his ship's hull. His skull reverberated. It took him a minute to regain his concentration. The ship and all systems were intact; it was clearly only a warning shot.

You have been warned, the voice continued over the comm. System. Disable your engines and weapons systems. Prepare your ship for loading aboard the Yorktown.

If they took him prisoner, he would not survive. This far out there is no taking of prisoners. Why take aboard another mouth to feed with only a limited supply of rations? He would be let out of the airlock to drift aimlessly in space. Only if they failed to realize who he was. Suicide was an easier choice.

Directing the ship at the Yorktown, Haden put the thrusters at full. It would be fast enough for what he had left to do. Maybe he could run at the Yorktown – a game of cosmic chicken – then turn and hit its engines as he passed. The maneuver might give him an edge by making it tougher for them to target him. If he could time it right, his fusion cannons would be online at the proper moment.

Another hit. All the systems went dead. Inertia carried the ship forward, its vector already determined. It was only about 10 miles from the Yorktown. Another few seconds until they collided.

Haden held his breath as he watched himself and his ship hurtle into the Yorktown.

Chapter 2

Transference

Alliance Station Mars Alpha New Cambridge

17 days prior

Adrianna stared at her next assignment. There was plenty to admire about the ship before her, but she was distracted. Her mind sorted through the steps that got her there – the myriad of decisions and mistakes that led her to accept that assignment.

The DASS Yorktown rest ahead of her, docked with the station. Just seven years ago, she was looking at being discharged for behavior unbecoming of an Alliance Officer. Now she was set to become the first Executive Officer (XO) of what they rumored to be the most advanced ship in the fleet. Seven years was a long time. Especially at 28, seven years felt a lifetime ago.

The Yorktown was an inspiring sight. It was nearly 300 meters long, and though roughly the size of a standard frigate, it held a mass of several thousand metric tons more than even the largest assault carrier. Much of the mass was based in the rear ionic fusion core, a newly implemented style of interplanetary propulsion. It was supposed to be the marvel of human aerospace engineering. She had yet to read more on it, though it was all that was ever listed for this ship.

Her clearance to access such this wasn't to be active until she was on board.

Others gathered around her, discussing and marveling at what was before them all. The most powerful in the fleet, a voice said off to the side.

I hear that it's a black-ops ship, a lanky officer mused.

Can't be. They'd never dock it here. They wouldn't even list it as an active ship then, another argued.

New Cambridge, otherwise designated as Mars Alpha Station, was one of several stations that orbited Mars. Primarily, it was a civilian station managing travel between the planets of the Alliance. There was a large military presence there – as there were in most stations. Much of it was supply related or for personnel transfers as ships served their weeks on the edge of Alliance space between Jupiter and Saturn.

Well, there's nothing really about it anywhere other than engine specs. I mean, there's not even anything about its weapons – look at its plasma cannons!

I wish that was my assignment, still another bemused.

It was all speculation, although it was everything to make Adrianna excited about this assignment. All the work that she had been striving for appeared as though it was paying off. Instead, she stood only saddened at her fortune. It was a strange feeling. Rather than focus on her fortune, she thought about him.

I wish you were still here with me, she whispered to herself. She felt this journey might allow her to touch his face again. It had been 7 years since he was lost to her. Facing her fears to never travel off Earth was the only way that she could be close to his spirit again.

Behind her, people shuffled back and forth, many taking moments to catch a glimpse of the ship before they continued on whatever tasks they had. A few other frigates were docked at the station. Some were there before moving on to the border; others managed trade routes. The Yorktown was there for one purpose: her.

At her feet were all of her belongings. The military afforded little opportunity to amass any material wealth during service. It was small, enough to carry clothing and a handful of personal effects. Everything else she required would be handled onboard.

Commander? a voice broke through to her side. Commander Feyet?

Adrianna turned, keeping her face stoic. Yes? she answered.

A young marine corporal of about 6-4 stood at attention. He dressed in the standard dress uniform. Across his shoulder was strapped an assault rifle. His eyes were sharp and determined. He saluted.

Adrianna returned the courtesy.

Sir, err, ma'am, the young man stuttered. His face twitched slightly at the mis-speech. The Admiral has instructed me to escort you aboard.

Proceed, Corporal, she instructed as she dropped her hand from the salute. The young corporal then reached for her duffel bag. No thank you, Corporal. I can manage this on my own.

The young corporal saluted again, and then replied: yes, ma'am.

Slowly, placing her eyes on the ship once more, she reached down and grabbed her duffel. The weight of it had a strange feel in space. Even with the artificial gravity systems, weight felt quite different from planet-side. Nothing felt quite the same as Earth. Even Mars, as close as its density is to Earth's, still needed the aid of artificial gravity to more closely match it. It was all designed to help humans to better cope with interplanetary travel. No matter how similar it was supposed to be, many felt the difference.

As her first step landed towards the ship, Adrianne quietly muttered to herself: I hope you're worth it.

The corporal appeared not to notice her speak and continued on ahead. His rifle pulled down to the side.

Any reason for the armed escort? she asked.

Sorry, ma'am. I'm not at liberty to discuss. These are my orders.

She hummed her acknowledgment as the marine continued forward.

Steadily, the two walked down the gangplank towards the vessel. More marines, all armed, stood at the end of the ship. It was an added precaution that seemed excessive considering there were barriers that kept from letting just anyone on board an Alliance ship.

As she grew further from the core of the station, Adrianna felt her steps become lighter. Shortly, the gravity from the ship would hold more effect than that of the station. Jumping-ship was the term that many of the sailors called the effect. Launching was another colorful term used to describe the small leap one had to make when trying to jump from a section of artificial gravity over to zero gravity in order to attain the small escape velocity.

Transference was the official term.

Jumping-ship is the easiest I've felt so far, the young corporal mused. The size of the Yorktown and its more advanced grav systems more resemble earth than even the station does.

Often, a space-farer would stumble when moving from a ship to a station. Adrianna was slightly amazed as to the smoothness she felt in the gravity shift. She kept her stoic demeanor however in front of her new report.

As they passed into the ship, she noted they moved straight in without passing the quarter deck. There was no officer to greet her, either. She noted the small deviations from the formalities the Alliance normally took part in and noted them.

They passed through the airlock, a larger room able to hold a dozen people if she were to guess. The interior of the ship was adorned with brushed-steel walls and clean black plastic-like trim. The flooring appeared to be a perforated metal grating that muffled the sound as Adrianna stepped upon them. It also felt like it had a give, as though it was soft carpeting.

Like the marine had described, her weight felt more natural. It was indeed the closest that she had felt to a ship being like Earth's gravity.

Along the walls, holographic monitors and control panels sporadically appeared and disappeared in particular sections as various members of the crew scurried about. Each display appeared to be coordinated with systems behind the barriers. As an engineer approached a panel, a small image of the schematics underneath appeared with another image of controls alongside. With a few swipes of his fingers, configurations changed and as soon as the engineer's eyes left their focus, the images disappeared. Adrianna correctly asserted that they coded those displays to match with signals from each of the personnel's specific requirements and access. Much of the ship was as such. The volume of technological controls and advancements was astounding.

There was much activity surrounding her, as one could expect for a vessel about to take its maiden voyage, and for a moment Adrianna felt intimidated. Trying not to acknowledge it, Adrianna noticed several of the crew pause to look at her as she walked by. Undoubtedly, there was considerable news regarding her arrival. She was apparently the last component needed prior to the ship's launch.

From the dock, they followed along a corridor that led further to the center of the ship. They passed doors with various codes written upon them. Adrianna presumed they were critical areas for landing parties: weapons, the medical bay, and the marine crew quarters, all positioned closer to the primary airlock to enable a swifter response.

As they approached the center of the ship, the area opened up to a larger section that ran along the length of the ship. Several other corridors intersected as they moved to the bow of the ship. She glanced back and forth, trying to take in the signs that pointed to where areas like elevators, the mess, crew quarters, and holds.

She noticed that about every 10 meters there was a gap for blast doors. Normal regulation required it every 20 meters in a vessel.

At about a third towards the bow of the ship, there was a large set of doors that opened as she approached. The marine then stepped to the side and saluted.

Thank you, corporal, she said as she returned the courtesy.

Ma'am. My pleasure.

In the center was a large holographic image of the solar system. Facing it from one side was a large panel with two elevated chairs, undoubtedly for the commander and the executive officer of the ship. Smaller stations faced the perimeter, including weapons, communication, engineering, and others. Navigation was in a smaller console against the image display. Most newer ships had a similar design for the control deck, so Adrianna paid it no more mind than to acknowledge that she had arrived in the right place.

Walking up from the hologram was a short, stocky, older gentleman. Adrianna immediately identified him as the Admiral from the markings on his shoulder.

Setting down her bag, Adrianna saluted.

The admiral did not return the courtesy, which caught