The Weaver's Forge: Earthfleet Extended Universe, #3

By Steven Lake

There is a mystery brewing in the galaxy: Rumors of a powerful enemy moving among the stars, conquering, destroying, and subjugating. But they're only rumors, and flights of fancy, right? That's what Mike Clayton, and the crew of the Sergenious, are sent to discover before rumor becomes reality, and the galaxy is plunged into a nightmare of titanic proportions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven Lake
• Release date: Nov 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005707491

Steven Lake

Steven Lake is a prolific author of many, many books, stories, articles, and other literature spanning a period of over twenty years. He began his long writing career in 1992 while serving in the US Army and has worked continuously to improve his craft to the great art it is today.

Book preview

Prologue

A snappy young lieutenant in his dress uniform looked up from his desk and smiled as Mike strolled casually into the office.

Good morning, sir!  How are you doing today? he asked happily.

I'm doing great! replied Mike.

That's good to hear, sir.  How may I help you?

Captain Pendleton called and wanted to speak with me?

The lieutenant appeared intrigued by this.

He did?  Let me check on that, sir, he replied.

The lieutenant then reached over and activated the intercom.

Sir, Mr. Clayton is here to see you.  He says you invited him?

Yeah, send him in, came the reply.

Aye, sir, replied the lieutenant.  He then looked up at Mike, gestured to the door, and said, You may go in now, sir.

Mike nodded, and then strolled into the office beyond.  As he entered, he noticed Pendleton sitting at his desk looking over a series of daily reports.  He soon looked up and studied Mike with a somewhat bemused look on his face.

So what have you been doing lately? he asked.

Mike laughed.

Just gallivanting across the stars, like usual, he replied.

Pendleton smirked.

I see you're still enjoying your retirement, like always.  It must be nice not having to worry about all the crazy that's going on out there anymore, he quipped.

Mike sat down in a chair in front of the desk and made himself comfortable.

When you get to be my age, enjoying your retirement is about all you can do.  Plus, it helps you to forget about all the crazy going on out there, he said with a chiding grin.

This made both men laugh.

So what did you call me down here for? asked Mike.

I have something I'd like you to explain to me.

Such as? asked Mike curiously.

Pendleton furrowed a brow, and then reached across the desk, and handed him a data pad.  Mike read it for several minutes, and then furrowed his brow.

Huh, how did you find out about this? he asked.

Believe it or not, I was digging through some old files in the archives, looking for some historical data that could give me some insights into the Ichigwa problem. and stumbled onto that.  To be honest, that's the first time I've ever heard of it.  I don't even remember grandpa ever mentioning anything about that either, and he was apparently a big part of it.

Mike smiled.

Yes he was.  And it's because your grandfather was a great man, and a heck of a pilot, just like you are.  Without him, I probably wouldn't have survived some of the missions we went on together.  It was his incredible skills as an ace pilot that saved our butts countless times.

Pendleton gestured to the data pad, and said, But what about this one?  Grandpa told me about most of his other missions.  But he never mentioned this particular assignment.

Mike took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly.

That's probably because nobody was supposed to know about it, he said after a moment.

Pendleton cocked an eyebrow slightly.

Why not?  It seems like this would've been something that was fairly routine, as far as missions go.  Well, for us anyways, given all the insanity we usually got into.

Mike pursed his lips slightly.

Well, to fully understand what made this mission special, you have to start from the beginning, back when I was your age, and your rank.  It was a far different galaxy than it is now.

Chapter 1

Captain Clayton reporting as requested, sir! came a barking voice.

Peterson, Grand Admiral of Earthfleet, looked up from his work and spotted Mike standing at attention in front of his desk.

Have a seat, captain, he said, gesturing to a chair.

Mike sat down quietly.

I have a mission for you.  How familiar are you with the Juinah? asked Peterson.

They're one of the leading mafia organizations operating within the galaxy, and one of the oldest, having existed since long before the great war of the Nine.  They're also one of the most phoenix like groups to date, rising repeatedly from the ashes, no matter how many times they're destroyed, or believed to be.  Why do you ask? replied Mike.

Peterson slid a data pad across the desk to him.

Because, something unusual has come up lately that I believe we need to investigate.

Mike picked up the data pad and began reading.  After a bit an eyebrow perked up.

Is this correct? he asked in amazement.

According to the SIC, it is.  Apparently, over the past few months we've received reports that one, possibly more Juinah lords have been seen displaying magical, almost god like abilities that currently go without explanation.  I've talked at length with the science corps about this, but even they're at a loss to explain any of it.  That's where you come in.  I'd like you to gather a team, take the Sergenious, and discover the source of this phenomenon.  Or, at least, what's giving them their abilities.  If you can get your hands on one of the devices or artifacts that's giving them these strange abilities, I would ask that you bring it back here for analysis.

Mike blinked slightly.

Yes, sir.  I'll do whatever I can.  But why do I have to take the Sergenious?  I'm already in charge of the battleship Marshall.  Couldn't we just take her instead?  She's a good ship with a good crew, and I know they'd be honored to be a part of a mission like this.

Peterson shook his head.

I can't risk that, Captain.  A full size Earthfleet battleship outside of Sol space would be too conspicuous, and raise far more eyebrows than I'm comfortable with.  And, it doesn't help any that, despite being a small, insignificant race, the speed of our advancement has caused many to fear us.  So, to keep tensions from getting worse, I'd like to keep this mission as low key and quiet as possible, which can only be done by keeping the size of the ship, and the team that I'm sending, to a minimum.  That's why I'm sending you out in the Sergenious.

Understood, sir.  But why me?

Because, you're one of my best captains.  So I know I can trust you to do a better job on this assignment than most of my other command officers.

Mike was highly honored at the Grand Admiral's compliment.

Thank you, sir.  I'll be sure to do my best, as always.  But, what about the Marshall?  Who will take over while I'm gone?

There's a number of upcoming officers in the fleet who need some extra command experience.  So I was figuring to let them fill in for you while you're gone.  It'll also be a good way to take the rough edges off them, if you get my meaning, said Peterson with a grin.

You're turning the Marshall into a training ship, sir? said Mike incredulously.

You've always said that the best way to learn is hands on.  So I see this as a perfect opportunity to make some good officers even better by allowing them to temporarily command one of the best ships in the fleet.  I'm sure you'd agree that it's vitally important to nurture and build lots of new commanders as quickly as possible, especially as the shipkiller fleet continues to expand, requiring greater and greater numbers of qualified commanders to lead those ships.

Understood, sir.  So who's coming with me?

So far it's just you.  It was the director of the SIC who recommended you for this mission.  However, he didn't suggest anyone else.  So I'm of the opinion that he trusts you enough to choose the rest of your team appropriately.

Understood, sir.  I'll get right on it.

––––––––

A brown, leathery skinned, dark eyed, reptilian like Red Paladin stepped into the room and bowed on one knee in front of Shanomar.

I am here, master, he said in a hoarse, grating voice.

Shanomar, supreme commander of the Red Paladin Corps, stood in front of a window that overlooked the capital city of Barrock, and took in its incredible array of sights.  But the brief bit of happiness that this brought him was abruptly disrupted by the newly spoken words that echoed in his ears.  He frowned slightly as a frustrated, annoyed sigh issued from his lips.

I am not your master, Jalon, nor your owner.  I am your commanding officer.  I wish you'd get that straight, he muttered.

But the reptilian man said nothing, remaining bowed with his eyes to the floor.  Shanomar soon turned and studied the young man.

Just because I saved you from a life of slavery doesn't mean you must treat me as more than I am, he said sternly.  I saved Callent from a life of slavery as well, and he doesn't treat me as his master.  So neither should you.

Jalon looked up at Shanomar with displeasure, and then glanced at Callent.  The large, woolly Sevedith studied him mutely in return.  Jalon grunted.

I only wish to express my greatest of respect for the one who saved my life, he replied.

That may be done by simply addressing me by my proper title, replied Shanomar.

Yes, sir, said Jalon hesitantly.

Shanomar then studied him for several moments, not really sure if Jalon had said that merely to please him, or if he really understood.  Even so, he decided to reserve that judgment for a later time.

It has come to my attention that you've discovered something of interest, he said.

Jalon stood and handed Shanomar a data chip.

I have come across information which suggests that the Juinah have acquired a new weapon of incredible power, of which we must investigate and destroy if necessary.

Shanomar took the chip and studied it briefly.

What kind of weapon? he asked.

One that gives the wearer supernatural powers that we do not have the ability to repel.

Shanomar played with the data chip in his hand for several moments as he mulled this over, and then tossed it lightly to Callent.

The Juinah are the least of our concern right now.  We have bigger issues to deal with for the moment, given the growing tensions between the Nine, he said.

He then turned and headed for the door.

But, sir! protested Jalon.

Shanomar stopped.

We do not have the resources to deal with every little issue that arises within the galaxy.  Right now, the problems of the Nine are our priority, and must be handled with all due haste, or another great war may break out between them that will prove even more deadly than the first.  As such, you are ordered to return to your original assignment, and continue your observations.  Should I, or the council, deem this threat from the Juinah to be of greater importance, we will shift our focus there.  Until then, we must concentrate all our energies on the current mission.

Jalon let out an angry huff, snapped a salute, and then stormed out of the room.  As he did, Shanomar turned and studied him.  As soon as the door hissed shut, Shanomar turned his attention to his long time partner, and friend, who appeared slightly concerned.

Do you think he will follow your orders? asked Callent.

Unlikely.  Jalon is hotheaded, and a maverick, grumbled Shanomar.

Callent grinned.

Much like you were at one time.

Shanomar frowned.

Maybe so.  But I was, at least, systematic and cautious in my ways, always careful in everything I did.  He, however, is needlessly reckless, and careless.  If he wasn't such an asset I'd have him stripped of his crest, and thrown in the brig.

Callent studied the door briefly, and then returned his gaze to Shanomar.

Yet you haven't.

Shanomar frowned.

No.

Then you intend to let him go.

I do.

Callent looked at him curiously.

To what ends? he asked.

Shanomar pursed his lips.

He is not the first to tell me about this mysterious power giving weapon the Juinah have somehow acquired.  While it is not presently a threat to us, given that only one of them possesses it, I am still concerned.  There is something about it that makes me uneasy.  So allowing him to continue pursuing this mystery is to our advantage.

Even though he is recklessly disobeying your orders?

Shanomar sighed.

There are times when neither obedience, nor caution, are one's greatest assets.

This made Callent grin.  In many ways, Jalon was just like the young Shanomar he once knew; the one who would ignore direct orders if he felt it was for the benefit of his people, and the galaxy.  In many ways Callent wished again for the old Shanomar, and not the one who now stood before him.  It wasn't that the current one was bad.  He just felt that the current Shanomar had become far too cautious; much in the same way as his commanders of old who he once decried.  Even so, whatever Shanomar was doing, Callent knew that it was always with the best interests of the entire galaxy in mind.  That was one of the many things he liked so much about his long time partner, and friend.  Even so, a little bit of the old Shanomar right now would still be welcome.

––––––––

Alfred sat in a chair across from Mike's desk and studied his friend's face.

What's the matter? he asked.

Well, other than you, all my choices for this mission have fallen flat.  Nobody will loan me their guys for my team.  But, given that I couldn't tell anyone why I needed them, and the incredible qualifications each of them has, that's to be expected, I guess.  They probably thought I was trying to steal them to bulk up my crew on the Marshall.  To be honest, I would've loved to.  Having a roster of talent like that would've made me the envy of the fleet, said Mike.

That may be why they didn't let you have them.

Probably.

So where do we go from here? asked Alfred.

Mike scratched his chin.

I'm not sure.  I think we should probably determine first what kind of ship we're being handed before we go any further with this.

Why do you say that?  We know all about the Sergenious.  She's one of the most famous ships in the entire fleet.

Yes, I agree.  Heck, I even served on her for several years when I was a lieutenant.  However, I haven't seen the inside of that ship for more than five minutes in the past twenty years, so I have no idea what we're getting into.  We could be dealing with a rattle trap bucket of bolts for all I know.

If the Grand Admiral recommended her, then she must still be a usable ship.

Mike shook his head.

He recommended her because she was an older ship.  So nobody would expect anyone to be using her anymore due to her age and obsolescence.  That's what makes her the perfect choice for this mission.  Even so, I think his sending us out in such an outdated ship was a bad idea.  We should've been allowed to go out in something newer.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I love the Sergenious, and have many great memories from my time aboard her.  But, there are a lot of better ships out there that outclass her in every way.  Not to mention they're a lot newer.  The Samurai class especially.  If I had to take a shipkiller, I'd rather take one of those than the Sergenious.

Alfred grinned.

I don't know why you consider her such an old ship.  She's only been commissioned for thirty seven years.  I'd hardly call that old.

Mike smirked.

Given the speed at which our technology turns over, thirty seven years may as well be thirty seven centuries.  The point is, she's vastly out of date, and probably needs a massive overhaul by now.  So, to take her out on a mission like this is crazy.

Alfred leaned back in his chair and appeared to contemplate this.

Maybe crazy is what we need right now.

Mike looked at him curiously.

What do you mean? he asked.

Well, up to this point we've been thinking latest, greatest, best, and most cutting edge in the fleet.  So maybe the Grand Admiral is right when he said that we're better off in something older.

How so?

Do you remember what Captain Edwards once told us?  Just because everyone says you're the best doesn't mean you are.

Mike leaned back and thought about this.

Hmm, you do have a point there.  Alright then, let's go down and check out the Sergenious, and see what we're getting into.  Once we know what we're up against, we'll be better able to determine who will best fit our needs for our crew, and this mission.  If our luck holds out, we might even come away better than we could've ever imagined.  Or, at least, better than we are now.

Alfred nodded.

Agreed.

––––––––

A short but stout rabbit like Gadal named Flake (his operational code name) sat in the pilot's seat of a small Nyuishian shuttle craft and studied the world beyond.  He gently stroked his long, white ears as he monitored the local traffic.  He then gently touched the augmented electronic vision adapter that was installed over his right eye, and wet wired into his skull.  It wasn't that he needed it, as he could see perfectly fine without it.  Instead, it assisted him in the various tasks he had to do as a Red Paladin.  To him it was like having a digital Swiss Army knife of sorts.  All he had to do now was think about something, and the adapter instantly gave it to him.  Accompanying this unique enhancement was an array of sensors embedded in his ears, nose, mouth and other various points all across his body, as well as a variety of other cybernetic enhancements and devices.

Because of these implants, some considered him to be a cyborg of sorts.  But, in reality, unlike a true cyborg, almost every one of his augmentations were easily removable, acting more as permanently mounted field gear than biological replacements for lost body parts.  This fact alone meant that he was merely an enhanced life form rather than a biological and technological hybrid.  As he sat in his seat thinking about their prior mission, Jalon appeared in a flash of light behind him.  Flake's ears twitched slightly as he heard his partner approaching.

That was quick, he said.

Jalon plopped down gruffly into the passenger's seat, but said nothing.  Flake twitched his whiskers curiously.

What did the general say? he asked.

He does not wish for us to continue this path.  He believes that the Juinah issue is of lesser importance than the pointless insecurities of the Nine, muttered Jalon.

Flake studied him for several moments.

So we're to return to our previous mission, right? he eventually asked.

Correct.

Flake grinned knowingly.

But you don't intend to do that, do you?

Jalon snorted.

The mast...eh, general, has stated that we are to return to our original assignment.

Flake gave a slight, knowing grin.

Come on, now.  That's never stopped you before.  Besides, aren't you interested in finding out what the Juinah are up to?  I mean, the guy we saw was throwing people around like toys, and with nothing more than a thought.  I think that deserves our attention, if nothing else.

Jalon looked at his partner with slotted eyes.

What is it about you that is so eager to break the rules, and disobey orders?

Flake gave him a sly, almost sarcastic grin.

Hey, I learned that from the master.  Namely, you.  But seriously, I think the whole Juinah thing is way more important than the political bellyaching of a bunch of spoiled politicians.  The Juinah are trouble wrapped up in a nasty patch of bramble thorns and razor blades.  Therefore, don't you think they're a bit more important?

Jalon thought about this for a bit, and then grinned.

You're right.  Flake, set course for Albus 9.

The Gadal laughed.

Yee-haw!  Now that's what I'm talking about!

Chapter 2

Mike gently ran his hand along the hull of the Sergenious as he studied the ship carefully.

When was the last time she was out? he asked.

A short, dark skinned engineer stood behind him and tapped away on a data pad.

According to the records, she came in about a year ago for a scheduled overhaul, which lasted about four months, and then she's just sat here since then, he said.

What about her crew?

Well, from what I'm reading, they were all reassigned to other duties around the fleet.

Mike looked at him in surprise.

So, she doesn't have a crew then.

No, sir.  Per the registry, she's unassigned.

Mike turned to Alfred with an expression of intrigue on his face.

I guess that explains why the Grand Admiral told us to take her out, he said.

Alfred nodded.

Take her out, sir? said the engineer in surprise.

He flipped through several pages of records on the ship, and then shook his head.

I'm not seeing any orders on file that say the ship is yours, sir.

The Grand Admiral personally told me he wanted us to take her on a special mission.  So I know she's ours.  He may have just forgotten to send the paperwork down to you, or it could've gotten lost in the shuffle, said Mike.

The engineer gave a smirking snort.

Wouldn't be the first time.  Tell you what, sir, I'll go ping the Grand Admiral's office for you and get things cleared up.  Personally, I could care less if you took it today or not, given how old she is.  However, I'm not up for being court-martialed for not following procedure.  So give me a couple minutes and I'll be right back.

Mike nodded.

Take your time, chief.  We're in no hurry.

Aye, sir.

As the engineer walked away, Mike rested his hands on his hips and studied the Sergenious.

For as much as I love this old ship, I'm still a little apprehensive about taking her on this mission.  I understand the reasoning behind going out in an older vessel like this, as it's not likely to be missed.  But on a mission this important, I'd really prefer something newer, to be honest.

What's so bad about her, sir?  The Sergenious is one of the best ships in the fleet, came a voice behind them.

The two men turned and were surprised to see a thin, lanky, pencil of a man standing next to one of the landing struts dressed in work dungarees.

Who are you? asked Mike.

The man snapped to, saluted, and said with a slight degree of flair, Lieutenant JG Eric Rogers, at your service, sir!

What's your occupation, Lieutenant?

I'm an engineer, sir.

Are you knowledgeable in the shipkillers, such as the Sergenious class?

Eric gave the two men a peculiar look.

Knowledgeable, sir?  I know the shipkillers inside and out, down to the very last bolt.  Heck, I could probably write the entire ship's manual from memory.  So you won't find anyone better than me when it comes to one of these ships.  In fact, this one here is my favorite.  She's the lead ship of the Sergenious class.  Originally commissioned on May 5th, 1968, she's flown a total of three hundred and eighty five missions, and remained on duty until her overhaul last year.  She's now fully equipped with all the latest fleet technology, weapons, shields, armor, cloaking and more, and is right now merely waiting on a new crew.

You sound like you really know this ship well, said Alfred.

Absolutely, sir!  In fact, I was the chief engineer responsible for her overhaul.

Mike was intrigued by this.

You were? he said in surprise.

Aye, sir, said Eric proudly.

Mike glanced up briefly at the ship, and then down at Eric.

How well can you vouch for the integrity of this ship?

With my life, sir!

Even though it hasn't been out of space dock, nor assigned a new crew since it's overhaul?

Eric gave a disapproving snort.

If you want my opinion, sir, her failure to return to service is the fault of the bureaucrats running the registry, and has nothing to do with either her, myself or my engineers.  We did a knockout job rebuilding her, and she's in better shape now than she's ever been!

Your engineers?  You're only a Lieutenant JG.  You shouldn't have your own build team yet.  You're not old enough.

Eric gave Mike an incredulous look.

"No offense, sir, but just because you're superior in rank