Friday, May 5, 2017

Sample Chapter from "Dark Angels" novel!



1.

The long-haul destroyer Goliath probed the vast emptiness of space, floating in the endless dark like a speck of sand adrift in the ocean. Its armored hull and bristling weapons offered mute testimony to the legacy of violence and conflict which had forged its purpose. This was a special ship, with special capabilities. But out here near the Cluster’s rim, where even the stars scarcely dared to venture, the vessel’s imposing mass might as well have been a few atoms of frozen hydrogen scattered against the backdrop of infinity.
The warship was currently running in stealth mode, with lighting muted and nonessential systems on standby, to reduce its energy signature to the bare minimum. Goliath’s bridge was a twilit landscape, brightened here and there by the multihued glows of work station data screens. The hushed stillness of the room belied the intense work of the officers seated at those stations.
The expansive chamber measured roughly circular. Its vaulted ceiling formed a huge hemispheric dome upon which was projected a panoramic view of the cosmos, fed by input from dozens of sensor arrays on the ship’s hull. From here one could look in any direction except down, and even that view could be provided with the push of a button. With lighting minimized, the illusion of floating unprotected in open space was disturbingly realistic.
To the ship’s stern spread a vast glowing panorama, the giant globular cluster that humanity had colonized centuries ago, comprised of hundreds of thousands of stars with uncounted habitable worlds, floating just outside the rim of the Milky Way galaxy. Its glory filled the sky behind them. But ahead of the ship there awaited…nothing.
Captain Taramay Dent felt the pull of the void as she stood staring out the fore viewscreen. Beyond the ship’s bow the stars thinned and vanished, leaving only the scattered embers of distant galaxies. The dimensions of intergalactic space were incomprehensible, tempting one to madness if contemplated too long. She was a woman of strong will and determination, a career space officer, but out here she felt fragile, insignificant, and she knew that her tiny spark of existence could vanish into that abyss and the universe wouldn’t blink.
She fought down a pang of anxiety, her secret fear of imperfect technology and her utter dependence on it. Only a few layers of steel separated the ship’s crew from the deathly cold of interstellar space. It enveloped them like a tangible entity, inimical, lifeless—except for that one small blip on the scanners. Somewhere not far, hidden among the asteroid field that they were currently exploring, was a tiny island of life. The elusive energy trace of organic beings emanated from there, and the instrument telltales identified the signatures as human. But where were they?
Her mood as black as the void, Taramay turned her gaze to the bridge crew, sighing in exasperation.
“C’mon, people, give me something!” she implored her subordinates. “It’s been five days since we cycled out of hyperspace. We should have found our target by now.” She looked down from her command dais and to her right, where crouched the main scanner control station. “Talk to me, Mr. Cotton.”
The tech officer, a young auburn-haired man in a sky blue Service uniform, glanced up from the screens in front of him. His grimace mirrored his commander’s impatience as he replied, “These accursed asteroids are continuing to play havoc with our readouts. I’ve never seen a star system with so much debris.”
The captain scowled. “The unmanned probe that came through this sector picked up life emanations easily. We have far better equipment, lieutenant, so why can’t we find that alien ship? It’s supposedly a harvest pyramid, full of thousands of human prisoners. The damned things are huge, and the life signs should be off the scale.”
The young man shook his head and said, “It’s not that easy. Detecting an energy source briefly is one thing. Pinpointing its exact location within an area millions of cubic klicks in size is entirely another.” He waved his hand in disgust at his instrument panel. “The nickel-iron composition of the rocks is causing heavy scanner ricochet and echoes. It’s nearly impossible to triangulate the origin of the life readings we’re chasing. The signals are weak and sporadic, which isn’t helping.”
Taramay turned back to contemplate the viewscreen, tapping her foot as she said, “I don’t like us sitting here naked in normal space, so far from reinforcements. The Cluster’s edge is unknown territory. The enemy could be anywhere out here.”
She glanced to the first officer’s station directly to her left. “Mr. Caine, have you found any additional data on this region?”
“I’ll give you what I’ve got, which isn’t much.” Her second-in-command tapped his control board, the glow from his screen highlighting his face and blonde hair against the shadows around him. His green eyes darted rapidly across the data readouts. After a pause he replied, “I’ve been searching the archives since we arrived. We’re well beyond the grid usually patrolled by SpaceForce, so the information on this sector is sparse. Star systems are mostly unexplored, but the reconnaissance data on record suggests that the Knackers may have colonized planets out here. Survey drones have picked up energy readings and snippets of alien transmissions in this region. The drones stayed in passive mode at a safe distance to avoid detection, so they weren’t able to collect more detailed data.”
“Wonderful. We can’t pinpoint the location of enemy bases, but there could easily be one in our area.”
“Essentially,” the first officer said. “Especially when you consider that the loaded harvest pyramid we’re searching for was headed this way.”
Yes, that would make sense, Taramay mused grimly. Knackers invaded worlds, Knackers captured the inhabitants, and Knackers took people away in giant pyramid ships, never to be seen again. Over the course of the war, humanity had learned that the hulking crustacean-like creatures ferried their captives to distant factory-planets, where their prey were “processed” into convenient foodstuffs for later consumption. The horror of that discovery had emphatically silenced the peacemakers, unifying the human worlds in a desperate fight against their approaching doom.
Not that it would matter in the end, she feared. No species had stopped the Crabs (as humanity had nicknamed them) in their entire nomadic history, which supposedly spanned tens of millennia, maybe longer.
And in the process of resisting this menace, what would humankind become? It took violence to fight violence; this warship she commanded was testament to that. The entire destroyer was death incarnate, a machine designed with one purpose: to take the lives of their enemies. It might even do its job well, for a time, but Taramay felt in her gut that someday the Goliath would be defeated by the enemy’s superior firepower. When that happened, this ship would bring death to its own crew as well, becoming an icy tomb drifting silently between the stars.
Her morbid train of thought was cut short as the tech officer spoke up again. His voice held an edge of tension.
“Captain, there’s something coming into range of our scanners. At first I thought it was another asteroid fragment, but the readings are odd. I’m not sure yet; there’s too much interference.”
Her sour mood boiled over, and she rounded on the unfortunate junior officer, glaring.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard those words over the past few days? And where are we? Still chasing false leads and ghost images with our butt exposed to the enemy, inviting them to come shoot it off. Do me a favor, and wait until you have something concrete before you announce it.”
The lieutenant’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “My apologies, Captain. I’ll keep on it.” He lowered his head, making a show of studying his data screens, but he couldn’t hide the deep flush creeping across his youthful features.
Taramay regretted the words as soon as they had left her mouth. Glancing around the bridge, she caught expressions of dismay from several senior officers. Dammit, she couldn’t lose control like that. She had always believed it was the captain’s responsibility to present an image of strength and stability. Well, it was time she lived up to her own standards.
Fuming, the captain took a couple of deep breaths and steadied herself. Hands on her hips, she cleared her throat and said, “The apology should be mine, Mr. Cotton.”
The younger man stared up at her, surprised. Taramay met his gaze steadily and continued. “I don’t want my staff censoring themselves. You’ve only been aboard a short time, but I need you to speak up whenever you might have something to contribute. I’m competent enough to filter the information for myself. Okay?”
The tech officer grinned and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled back at him, saying, “Keep on your scanners, and let me know the instant the readings are clear.”
Her subordinate nodded, rubbing his tired eyes as he turned back to squint at his glowing console. The captain’s brow creased slightly, her smile fading as she watched him work. She wasn’t the only one riding the edge; the crew members were all showing signs of strain. They had been on constant alert and pulling double shifts since arriving in this sector.
It wasn’t so bad when travelling through hyperspace; the voyages were usually quick, and you could see constant motion and know you were heading somewhere. But out here in normal space, without a planet underfoot, there was no visible measure of movement, no signal to the primitive animal brain that they were doing anything more than floating forever in the black. A hundred thousand klicks could pass by, yet the distant background of stars and galaxies looked unchanged to the naked eye. And behind that dreary sameness loomed the constant threat of attack, as they sat here alone and exposed. Monotony and stress made a lethal combination, steadily wearing down a ship’s crew. With fatigue came human error, and out here mistakes were potentially as deadly as their enemy.
 “Captain.” The navigation officer’s voice drew her gaze forward to the starboard side of the bridge. Leofric DeBartolo was a seasoned pilot who had been in SpaceForce since before the arrival of the Crabs. His light brown hair was brushed with gray at the temples, and lines around his eyes hinted at decades lived and conflicts endured. He had served with her on the Goliath for the past two years. Over time they had built a comfortable interaction borne of long familiarity.
 As their eyes met he continued, “When we were outbound, I asked for mission details. You said it was classified, but that you’d reveal our orders once we arrived at our target location. Well, it seems that we’re getting pretty damned close. It might be a good time to brief us before the iron is in the fire, yes?”
Taramay nodded with a weary smile. “You’re right, Lef. The officers should be brought up to speed.” She raised her voice for all to hear. “Attention, everyone.”
The handful of bridge crew swiveled their faces toward their commander. Clasping her hands behind her back, Taramay swept the room slowly with her eyes as she began, “It’s time to reveal our mission orders. You already know that we’re searching for an alien vessel which may be carrying human captives. Officially this is a rescue operation, but we have other directives as well. First, headquarters wants technical data on the Knacker ship, if we find her. We desperately need to learn as much as we can about the enemy.
“Secondly, we’re in outland territory. We are instructed to chart and log as much information as possible on the star systems we encounter, especially those any with evidence of alien activity.”
“You think HQ wants to attempt a repeat of our Xenopus offensive?” Leofric asked, catching her gaze with his.
Taramay smiled thinly and said, “Very possibly. Hitting the Crabs where they roost may be our best hope for victory.”
“What about Xenopus?” the tech officer asked, glancing from the navigator to the captain. “Do you mean the recent battle fought there?”
“Yes,” Taramay answered. “What do you know about that campaign, Mr. Cotton?”
“Not much,” the lieutenant confessed, shrugging. “I was stationed out in G-sector at the time, and news was sparse. I also didn’t have the clearance to be privy to the details when it happened.”
“Well, you’ve come up in the galaxy since then,” the captain replied. “Let me fill you in. You know about the factory-planets where the Knackers bring prisoners for processing.” It was a statement more than a question, and the smoldering fire in the young man’s eyes was answer enough. Taramay continued, “Xenopus III was such a planet. SpaceForce discovered a Knacker stronghold there, via tracking a harvest vessel to its destination. With a fixed target in hand, we were able to turn the tables on our foe, taking the attack to the aliens. The Goliath took part in the assault, so I saw it firsthand.”
“Wow! What happened?” Bruce asked, his boyish face alight with curiosity. “I never heard more than the basic news hype, you know, SpaceForce winning a glorious victory and so on, but no details. What was it like?”
Meeting his gaze, Taramay had to suppress a grin. Lieutenant Cotton was a sharp officer, and she had been impressed with his service record when he had been assigned to the Goliath at their last port of call. Nonetheless this was his first tour on a destroyer-class vessel, and he was still green. Sometimes it really showed.
“What happened is we caught the Knackers completely off guard,” the captain told her subordinate. “Their confidence in their own superiority was their downfall. They didn’t even have any ship patrols or sensor grids arrayed around the planet to warn them of our approach.”
“And we stomped their butts into the ground,” Alena Stepanovich added from her com chair.
Taramay chuckled despite herself. “Yes, we did indeed,” she agreed. “Our destroyers and dreadnaughts emerged from hyperspace and encircled the Knacker world. From near space we rained down a firestorm of plasma bolts, heavy missiles and even meteorites thrown from mass launchers. The result was devastating. Target areas up to fifty klicks in diameter were vaporized. When the smoke had cleared, the major Knacker ground installations were gone, and the world had ceased to be a military threat in that sector. All that remained was to eventually land and engage the surviving aliens with ground forces.”
“Didn’t the Crabs fight back?” Bruce asked incredulously.
“Well, yes, they did attempt to launch fighters into space to counter our attack. Most were shot down before leaving the atmosphere. A few larger ships cleared the gravity well and disappeared into hyperspace, with human destroyers close on their heels. A few other Knacker vessels got clean away during the heat of battle. Which leads us to our present mission.”
“How’s that?” Leofric interjected.
Taramay glanced toward the navigator. “Space Command tells me the human fleet encountered harvest pyramids over Xenopus III. Their size makes them lumbering and slow, so normally they would have little chance of eluding pursuit. However, several loaded pyramids chanced to emerge from hyperspace near the planet while the battle raged. Before the human fleet could close with them, they had vanished once again.
“After the planet was subdued, unmanned probes were launched to track the energy trails left by the alien vessels. One of these eventually beamed back data suggesting that a harvest pyramid, or part of one, had been located.”
“The ship we’re after,” Leofric concluded for her.
“Yes,” Taramay confirmed. “We know a loaded harvester can contain thousands of human lives, worthy of a rescue mission. Along with SpaceForce’s desire for intel on the enemy, it was enough reason to send us out here. And as you noted, if we happen to find the harvester’s intended destination, we may also be able to give SpaceForce another Crab planet to target.”
The captain paused, her eyes scanning the bridge crewmembers. “One last thing, and this is strictly classified, for your ears only, people. Our stealth probes picked up bits of alien transmissions that hinted of a new weapon the Crabs were developing, perhaps in response to our recent successes. We have no idea what it might be, but we’re tasked with gathering any data possible, and capturing one of the weapons for study if the opportunity presents itself.”
She paused and spread her hands, saying, “That’s all I’ve got. Now you know as much as I do. Any questions?”
Silence met her as the crew on deck mulled what they had been told, each person lost in contemplation of the war and their place in it. Taramay let her gaze roam slowly upward once again, wishing the tension inside her could bleed away into the depths of space-time.
Such moments of quiet are a luxury during periods of conflict, and duty inevitably intrudes. It was only a short interval later that the tech officer spoke up again, and this time the urgency in his voice was unmistakable. “I’ve got something! 
The rest of the bridge crew swiveled their heads to look toward the young man. The captain kept her voice steady as she folded her arms and asked, “What do you see, Mr. Cotton?”
“There’s a large mass of metal, refined metal, about ten thousand klicks to starboard and slightly behind us. The signals are clear now. It’s definitely not an asteroid; scans indicate a pyramidal shape consistent with a Knacker harvest ship. It seems to be dead in space. I’m getting no emissions to suggest an active propulsion system or defensive screens.”
“Do you read any power output at all?” she asked, squinting at the viewscreen as if she could make their quarry visible by force of will.
“Just a faint energy pulse, but I suspect that environmental support is still on line,” the tech officer replied.
“How can you tell that?” the captain asked.
“Because this object appears to be the source of the life signals we’ve been chasing,” the younger man said.
Taramay stood motionless for a moment, her thoughts racing. Then she swiveled and rapped out orders to her crew. “Ms. Stepanovich, send a tight beam transmission to Space Command. Summarize our activities to date, and inform them that we’re moving to investigate a probable Knacker vessel.”
“On it, Captain,” Alena replied, tapping in commands on her console.
Next Taramay looked to her navigator. As his furrowed gaze met hers, she cocked her head and said, “What do you think, Lef? Can we approach safely, or are the Crabs up to something?”
He grimaced as he glanced at the viewscreen, saying slowly, “I don’t like it, but then I feel that way about anything Knacker. I have no concrete reason to suspect a ruse here. If that ship was under power, we’d know it, and it’s not like the Crabs to shut down their primary systems just to lure us in. They know that SpaceForce tends to shoot first and inspect the remains after. I don’t think they’d leave themselves vulnerable on the slim chance that they’d catch someone off guard. Especially not out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“Agreed,” Taramay replied. “Pyramids have minimal weapons systems in any case, unless this one was specially modified. As you say, a trap seems far-fetched. But something is bothering you.”
“Well,” Leofric mused, “if the ship is a derelict, what wrecked it? SpaceForce hasn’t fought any engagements way out here. And it’s odd that a vessel of that size has been stranded this long, without having been rescued. That’s a big chunk of hardware to abandon. Not to mention the captive humans supposedly on board; the Crabs would value that commodity highly. So why is it just sitting there?”
“Perhaps the asteroid field has scrambled the Knackers’ scanners as well as ours,” the captain answered. “Maybe whatever disabled the harvest ship also knocked out their communications. Regardless, we’ll need to take a closer look. Turn us about and set in a course to approach the vessel. Mr. Cotton, monitor your readouts closely. I want to know if someone so much as breaks wind on that ship.”
Over the next two hours the navigator cautiously brought the Goliath in to their target. As they approached, the bridge crew stared at the image growing on the main screen. Straight ahead of them a roughly triangular area of stars was obliterated by the outline of something substantial. The lightless area kept growing until it seemed that they must be right on top of the object, but still they continued to creep forward. There was no sense of perspective in the depths of space, and Taramay was forced to reassess the alien ship’s bulk several times as they closed with it. Against her will she found herself in awe at the size of the structure. It was obvious that the pyramid far out-massed any ship SpaceForce had ever built.
Finally the navigator sat back in his chair and said, “That’s it. We’re at a full stop, approximately a half klick from the vessel.”
The captain gazed out the viewscreen, contemplating the dark mass which now filled their forward view. In the years since the Knackers had first appeared, harvest pyramids had become a symbol for all the loathing and horror that the aliens elicited in their human prey. As she faced one up close for the first time, Taramay felt a chill slither down her spine like the touch of a scurrying insect.
Not a single light showed on the flat face of the pyramid; the silent vessel appeared devoid of life. Even at close range the vast structure was barely visible, just a murky jumble of shadows blotting out the starlit sky. Out here in the lonely reaches of the asteroid belt, the solar system’s red dwarf sun lay far behind them. At this distance its weak light was so attenuated as to be almost undetectable. The alien ship remained shrouded in mystery.
Taramay kept her gaze fixed on their quarry as she said, “Anything on the scanners, Mr. Cotton?”
“Low level energy output, as before,” he replied. “No sign of a response to our presence. Lots of human life emanations inside. This is definitely our target. And I’m picking up…some Crabs as well.”
This last statement sounded puzzled, and the captain glanced over at him, asking, “Are you surprised? It is a Knacker vessel.”
The young officer looked pensive. “Well, I’m only getting a scattering of alien life readings. A ship this large should have thousands, probably tens of thousands. I know they can shield their life signs from scans to some degree, but I’d be able to tell if there were a lot of them. It appears that there are only a few, and that doesn’t make sense.”
The junior officer might be inexperienced, but he was not stupid. Taramay exchanged glances with the navigator; his unease with the situation was plainly written on his weathered face.
“It seems odd that only a fraction of the alien complement would be on board,” she agreed, rubbing her chin. “If they’d been rescued, the entire crew and human captives would have been offloaded as well. We need more information about what happened here. Mr. Cotton, bring up spotlights on the pyramid. Let’s see what she looks like.”
The navigator punched his controls, and dazzling beams of white light lanced out from the prow of the human destroyer. The alien ship suddenly flared into stark clarity, every detail of its hull exposed to the observers aboard the Goliath. A chorus of gasps swept through the bridge, and Taramay heard Leofric muttering dryly, “I can hazard a guess as to why the ship’s marooned.”
Alena the com officer simply leaned forward and murmured, “Would you look at that!”
Look, indeed. What had prompted her exclamation wasn’t the gigantic perfection of the alien ship. Instead, the crew’s gazes were drawn inexorably to the one flaw in that symmetry. The lower right corner of the pyramid had been completely blown away, leaving a raw gaping wound in its place. The crater extended deep into the metallic hull; Taramay could have easily parked her entire destroyer inside the mangled cavity.
Lt. Cotton shook his head, saying, “What could have caused that kind of damage? Did they hit an asteroid?”
The gunnery officer, a hard-jawed blonde named Greta Já½¹nsson, replied from her port-side console, “I don’t think so. The metal looks melted and fused. It would take a high speed impact to generate that much heat. If that had happened, the forces would likely have torn the pyramid apart. This appears to be a heavy weapons hit, not a collision with something solid.”
“But what sort of weapon?” Lt. Cotton asked. “I’ve never seen anything in SpaceForce that could maim a pyramid like this.”
“I have,” Taramay replied, eyes narrowed. The others looked at her quizzically. She nodded and continued, “A railgun round from a Lamprey could do that, and worse.”
The young tech officer exclaimed, “A super-dreadnaught? Are those things real? I thought they were still in development!”
“Oh, they’re real, all right, though they’re new and very few in number. And they’re the one spacecraft we have that can strike fear in the Crabs. The whole damned ship is a weapon, a half kilometer long. I’ve seen a single round from a Lamprey’s main gun take out an enemy destroyer, and I mean obliterate it. SpaceForce had super-dreadnaughts deployed at Xenopus III, where this pyramid briefly appeared during the battle. I’ll bet that a Lamprey got off a shot before the Crabs fled back into hyperspace. What do you think, Ms. Já½¹nsson?”
The weapons officer nodded. “That makes as much sense as anything.” She gestured at the viewscreen and added, “The extent of the damage explains why the ship is stranded. The propulsion system is probably dead, and their communications would obviously be suspect as well.”
“How would they have gotten this far if the ship was disabled?” Alena asked, looking confused.
The gunner grunted, and said, “The weapon impact would have generated tremendous heat, especially if it were caused by a railgun. The rounds fired by those weapons contain a depleted uranium core which vaporizes and ignites on impact. The end result is a major fireball. I suspect the ship’s hyper drive failed en route, due to ongoing burn damage in sections of the hull which still had an atmosphere.”
“Could the weapon hit have killed off the Knacker crew?” Taramay asked, eyeing the pyramid thoughtfully.
“Perhaps,” the first officer spoke up. “The intel people think that Crab soldiers occupy the basal portions of the pyramids, to allow for quick deployment when they harvest a planet. Sensor scans of loaded harvesters have suggested that the human captives are moved up into the higher portions of the ships.”
“That would make sense,” Taramay said, nodding. “It keeps prisoners sequestered and makes escape difficult. They would have to fight past the Knacker soldiers to get to the exits along the base.”
“The upper portion of this pyramid appears intact,” Lt. Cotton pointed out. “There could be quite a few humans trapped in there.”
“Any idea how many?” Taramay asked him.
The tech officer shook his head. “A fair number, but I can’t get exact figures. The density of the aliens’ hull is interfering with more detailed scans.”
“We’ll have to board that ship,” the captain decided. “Have two shuttles made ready with full troop complements. In the meantime we’ll need to find a way in.”
“The doorways along the pyramid’s base would be the best bet,” the first officer suggested. “I’d stay away from the damaged section; it’s likely to be a fused mess.”
“I agree,” Taramay replied. “The challenge will be getting a portal to open, given that the ship is mostly without power.”
“The real challenge might not be getting in, but rather getting back out again in one piece,” the navigator said. No one disagreed.


May 2017: "Dark Angels" Novel is out!

My newest novel, "Dark Angels" is finally out! This is the 4th installment in the Human-Knacker War series, and is a sequel to "The Battle for Eden". Although the conflict is the same, the characters are new and different, with the exception of one cameo from a prior character. This story also takes place on a human battleship, unlike the prior novel which mostly covered events on the planet Eden. As the title suggests, the book has a dark mood, and many of the scenes are grim... but the characters must find a way to overcome daunting challenges, and at the same time, retain their own humanity and a sense of hope. I'll include a sample chapter for readers to check out. Enjoy!

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Dog Daze & Cat Naps on Audible.com!

Dog Daze & Cat Naps is now available as an audio book!  The voice artist is Guy Williams, who has done voice versions of other novels, including the Zombie Wilson Diaries.  Audible.com and Amazon both offer the audio book version of my veterinary novel now.  Free samples are available on both sales sites; quite fun to listen to the narrative instead of reading it!   Happy holidays everyone!  ~Mark B

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Holiday season is here...

...had fun at the Orycon science fiction convention in Portland a couple of weeks ago; met several local authors and sat in on an authors' class or two.  Working piecemeal on my latest novel "Dark Angels", the 2nd story I've written in the human-Knacker war series.   Still getting a lot of interest in Dog Daze & Cat Naps, my 1st novel, on Amazon.  Dog Daze is due out very soon in audio book format as well.  The weather is gradually cooler, but still mild for this time of year.  We're going to see Bruce Springsteen in concert tomorrow night!  Work has been busy, with lots of reptiles this time of year (they get sick more often when the weather is cool & dark).  Also seeing lots of ferrets, rabbits, guinea pigs, rats, etc. Fun animals one and all!  And we get most of them feeling better!  Well, no rest for the wicked...back to work on the story!   ~MB

Saturday, October 27, 2012

The rains have come...

...staying indoors now, getting to work on some writing. I also got invited to speak at Oregon State University's exotic animal symposium early next year; this is a first-time meeting sponsored by the veterinary students there. Am also heading down to southern Oregon to lecture, near my home town in the Rogue Valley...I'll be presenting a talk to vets there about exotic pet medicine & surgery.  That will be convenient, as I can also see my mom who lives in the area! Meanwhile working on the house and spending time w/ my lovely wife Denise-- one of the truly wonderful people on planet Earth.  Lucky me!  That's it for now...MB

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Dog Daze will be out in audiobook format!

Just heard from my publisher that a well known producer of audio books has picked up "Dog Daze & Cat Naps", my 1st novel.  Great news... and Dog Daze continues to outperform my other works in terms of sales, despite 3 years having passed since its release.  Maybe animal stories are more popular than sci-fi?  Hmmm, I might have to do a sci-fi animal story!  (of course, my latest novel "The Battle for Eden" features some interesting --and cute-- otherworldly animals, so those who want an animal component to a story might be appeased!   Tiime to do some writing on "Dark Angels", my next novel.  The weather has finally turned colder, Fall is here, and spending time indoors w/ the laptop sounds more appealing than on balmy days.  Time to get to it!   Best regards to all my readers... ~MB

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Free sample from my novel "The Battle for Eden"

THE BATTLE FOR EDEN

                                                                          Chapter One

      When the Knacker invasion ships materialized out of warp dimension into the Solaris II star system, humanity’s space fleet was waiting for them. The decision had been made: no more running before the enemy, no more conceding system after system to the alien marauders from the galactic rim. Here the prey vowed to turn the tide against their tormentors, or to die trying.
     The human ships floated silent in the inky blackness of near space, their sleek, silver predatory shapes reminiscent of the deadly sea sharks of old Earth. Behind and beneath them shimmered the blue and green orb of planet Eden, one of the most earthlike and heavily populated worlds of the human Federation. Whether SpaceForce’s decision to stand and fight was an act of bravery or desperation was debatable, but no one disputed that the human race was running out of choices, running out of places to hide, of planets to retreat to.  Humanity was also being pushed back dangerously close to their home world, which had to be protected at all costs.
     Simon Roy reflected on this as he waited in his new Avenger class fighter, focusing his anger to help suppress the gnawing fear at the back of his mind. The glowing heads-up display floated ghost-like in front of his eyes, and he scanned it automatically while controlling his breathing. Inhale, exhale, slow and steady, while the small red blips of the enemy ships moved toward the waiting green icons marking the defenders.  The alien armada was 40,000 kilometers out and closing fast. Immediately to his port and starboard floated the other members of Alpha fighter squadron, friends and comrades all, many of whom would not see tomorrow.
     The readouts before him told the harsh truth: the human fleet was badly outnumbered. Alone with his thoughts in the stillness before battle, Simon couldn’t shake a feeling of inevitability. Despite SpaceForce’s best efforts, Eden would likely fall today, just as with every other planet the aliens had set their sights on. If only humanity had had more time to prepare, to build ships, to develop better battle tech, then they might have been able to repel the invaders, push them back, even retake the worlds that held human populations. For truth be told, the outlying planets already overrun by the Crabs (as humans called them) had not been devastated. To the contrary, the habitat of each conquered world was left intact by the aliens, aside from the violence required to subdue the resident populations. The invaders had destroyed key defensive installations, and disabled the infrastructure that modern civilization depended on. Each planet’s military was overrun, its communication networks and power grids shattered. After that, the Crabs methodically “harvested” the helpless inhabitants, filling their ships’ holds with living humans to process at facilities on distant worlds. Given enough time, the marauders would reduce a planet’s population by over 70% before leaving for better hunting elsewhere.
     The destinations of the loaded Knacker freighters were mostly unknown, but humans had discovered a few of the factory-planets used by the aliens, and Simon knew that what they had found was a horror show of unthinkable proportions. The Crabs’ processing centers were nothing less than planet-wide abattoirs that worked day and night skinning, slicing, cooking, and packaging their prey into convenient foods for the Knacker swarm.
     He sighed, his exhale sounding hollow within the helmet of his environment suit, and reached his gloved hand out to touch the photo pasted to the ship’s control panel. The faces of a pretty, dark haired woman holding a young girl smiled out at him, and a flicker of sadness touched his face. His wife and child were only memories now, part of the multitude of humanity that had been swept away in this thrice-damned war. The thought of them being served as hors d’oeuvres in a Knacker buffet kindled a burn deep inside him that had never extinguished. At this point he had nothing to lose, did not even particularly care if he lived or died, as long as he could take a few of the hated Crabs with him.
     His expression hardened as he turned his attention back to the view outside his craft. Simon knew where the enemy should appear, from almost straight ahead of his current position, but the endless depths of space could swallow a thousand ships and reveal nothing. At least this battle would play out on the day side of the planet, so the sun’s rays would highlight the combatants. Simon disliked engagements fought in deep space or in a planet’s shadow, where you couldn’t see friend or foe except on instrument display, unless a thruster fired or a ship exploded. And if you lost your sensors while battling in that endless black, you were blind, a sitting target. Today he would fight in the light, and he would give the Crabs reason to fear.
     There!  He caught a flicker of motion in the distance, and the speck grew rapidly even as he watched. Other shapes appeared to both sides of the first ship as the shrinking distance revealed smaller vessels. The helmet speaker crackled and his commander’s voice spoke crisply, “This is Colonel Hastings aboard the destroyer Xerxes. Heads up, everyone. Bogies at one o’clock and closing. Looks like 8 or 10 destroyers, three carriers, and a whole crap load of fighters. Our task is simple: engage the enemy at will when in range. Alpha and gamma fighter squadrons, provide fire cover for our carriers and destroyers. Beta and delta squadrons are free to range wherever you find enemy fighters. Avoid their destroyers; their antispacecraft systems will pick you off. Leave the big boys to us. Good luck, and may the gods of battle favor us this day.”
     Simon’s hands flew over the controls in front of him, bringing his ride to life, and he felt more than heard the deep hum resonating through the ship’s hull as the fighter powered up. Scarcely had he completed the startup routine when the sky around him lit up with a brilliant blue-white flash. To his starboard side the huge bulk of the destroyer Xerxes had unleashed its forward energy cannons. The windows of Simon’s small craft instantly cycled dark to cut the glare, and he was able to see the second salvo clearly. Twin beams of coherent energy, each more than a meter in thickness, lanced from the bows of the human destroyer and leapt across the void separating the two fleets. They appeared to impact one of the largest enemy vessels in the far distance. A brief flash obscured the target, but when the glare faded, the opposing ship was still advancing, with no damage visible to the naked eye.
     The apparent futility of the human barrage was expected, and he wasted not a microsecond of his attention on it. Major Simon Roy was a veteran of five heavy naval engagements with the Crabs. He knew that these initial salvos were simply saber-rattling, as well as a preliminary testing of targeting systems and armament. There was always the chance of a lucky shot knocking out an enemy’s sensor array or maneuvering thrusters, but mostly the ships were getting a feel for each other as they closed to effective striking range. Then things would get serious.
     The other human destroyers, five in all, joined in the assault, and energy beams filled the void as the two forces continued on a collision course. The blunt-nosed Knacker vessels, nearly twice the size of their SpaceForce counterparts, were now returning fire, and their energy bolts came fast and accurate, each hitting a human ship dead center before winking out a second later. The Crabs possessed superior military technology. Their energy projection weapons produced a beam more coherent than that of the humans, with less bleed-off over vast distances, therefore packing more punch over greater range. Simon spared a glance to his right and saw chunks of debris flying into space off the Xerxes. The alien hit had done some damage.
     No sound reached Simon’s ship through the vacuum of space. He had trained in aircraft planetside before joining SpaceForce, and he had never gotten used to the empty quiet of combat outside of the atmosphere. Once engaged in battle, the rumble of his own ship’s engines and weapons would be his only companions outside of the com link. He looked forward to it; anything was better than the tension of sitting and waiting while the silence pressed in on him. No sooner had that thought brushed his mind than a cluster of Knacker fighters streaked by his craft at high speed, causing him to cringe as the nearest ship passed mere meters beyond his window. In that moment his focus shrank, and his universe became very small and very personal.
     With finely-honed reflexes Simon hit the lateral thrusters and wheeled his fighter 180 degrees. As the retreating alien fighters came into his sights he kicked the main engines into high acceleration. This latest-generation Avenger possessed inertial dampeners, a technology stolen from captured enemy fighters. Even with their assistance in cushioning the blow, the pressure of 50 Earth gravities of thrust pushed him deep into his crash seat and forced the air from his lungs. He struggled to breathe as he began to run down his quarry. Icons of enemy craft were appearing all over his digital display, lighting it up like a cloud of enraged bees. Great Ares, there were so many!
     The nimble craft maneuvered effortlessly, like an extension of his own body, as he banked hard to pursue two Crab fighters which had split off from the pack ahead of him. They appeared to be lining up for a strafing run at the nearest human destroyer, and he closed with them from astern. The ovoid shapes of the alien craft contrasted starkly with the arrowhead contours of his own ship, but their awkward appearance belied their deadly effectiveness. Nearly eighty percent of one-on-one engagements with the Knackers had ended with the human fighter destroyed. At least that was the result of battles utilizing the older Lancer class fighters; these new machines had capabilities that were an order of magnitude superior to their predecessors. The experts hoped that this would give SpaceForce a fighting chance over Eden.
     Simon felt a thrill course through him as the two alien vessels swelled in his sights. For the first time it appeared the human armada had fielded craft capable of running with the enemy even at combat speeds. Now the Knackers noticed his pursuit, and their rear energy weapons began spitting lances of fire back at him as they initiated evasive maneuvers.
     The alien fighters split in opposite directions, and he tracked the one that banked left. The carapace of his ship flashed like a nova as he took a direct hit from the alien’s weapons. Ghost images momentarily filled his eyes and the hull bucked beneath him. But here, too, his fighter served him well. New ablative armor deflected much of the energy of the aliens’ weapons. On first detection of the attack, the navigation computer threw the ship into a jitter and zigzag pattern, jarring him within the restraining flight harness. He retained control of the general direction of flight, but the craft’s trajectory took on a random element that made it difficult for adversaries to focus repeated hits on any one part of his ship. His fighter took two more glancing shots, and then the targeting computer showed weapons lock and fired.
     The main forward guns on fighters were heavy fixed weapons; the ship had to be aligned to the target in order to score a hit. The rear weapons, such as those the alien had been peppering him with, were smaller and usually mobile, allowing targeting systems to track an opponent without turning the entire ship’s hull. But the real power was to the front, and once the two ships were properly aligned, his fighter unleashed a full onslaught on the elusive alien.
     The delta-wing Avengers carried port and starboard fusion-powered energy weapons, each capable of producing 50,000 megajoules of projected coherent plasma. Fired at close range and focused to a target spot no larger than the tip of a man’s thumb, the beam heated the impact area to a temperature approximating the surface of the sun within 0.25 seconds. Even with the Knacker’s projected defensive screens, which diffused and absorbed some of the energy of the hit, the majority of the beam punched through. It also didn’t matter that the skin of the alien ship was made of advanced high density alloys and refractory materials. There was only one possible reaction that a solid substance could have in the face of that amount of energy. It simply vaporized.
     From Simon’s viewpoint everything happened almost too fast to follow. His guns blazed, and twin gaping holes instantly opened in the alien’s hull. Bits of metal and debris exploded outward from the wounds, gases jetting into space as the ship lost compression and vented its air into vacuum. The Avenger’s guns fired once more, and the vessel ahead of him exploded, the heat of the plasma impact igniting the remaining oxygen within the hull. The fusion reactor containment system remained intact, or the entire ship would have instantly become a miniature sun. The Crabs did know their tech stuff. Their reactors, after which the current human versions were modeled, were marvels of efficiency and reliability, with multiple fail-safes built in to prevent loss of containment. Only a direct hit to the fusion core would usually cause it to blow.
     In this case, the reactor’s survival went for naught, as the explosion ripped a large section of the Crab’s starboard hull clean off. It spun lazily away, trailing debris like confetti stretching out behind it. The main section of the crippled ship slid to Simon’s port side as he shot toward it, fires still sputtering deep within the wreck. Just as he flew past, the body of a Knacker floated out of the gaping wound in the hull. The spider-like form was covered in an environment suit, and its numerous limbs were moving; the damned thing was still alive! Simon twitched his controls to the left, and his fighter swerved just enough to clip the alien with his port wing. At his velocity the blunt leading edge acted like a butcher’s knife, slicing the alien neatly in two. Perhaps neat wasn’t the best description, as limbs and entrails spewed outward in an organic imitation of the alien ship’s disintegration. A thin smile of satisfaction touched Simon’s lips.
     His dogfight with the Crab had carried him close to one of the human destroyers, and he spared a glance as he flashed by. Long blackened furrows marked the huge ship’s armor where the enemy’s weapons had scored it. Fires were visible in several sections of hull, but the ship was still under power, maneuvering and firing back even as he watched.    
     That brief look was all he could spare. He tore his gaze away again to engage another enemy fighter closing in.
     Simon notched four kills that day. The first dogfight was actually the hardest. The second came against a Knacker already engaged with a Delta squadron fighter; that one was easy pickings. His helmet radio relayed a quick “Thanks, friend!” from the other pilot, and then the speaker went silent again and he was off tracking another bogie.
     The communications net was always open during battle, but comments were kept short and simple. Everything happened too fast to maintain any planned actions between fighters. Most of what came through on the com was chatter from the big ships, coordinating their efforts or issuing general direction to fighter squadrons.
     “Delta group, put some distance between you and the Orion; she needs room to maneuver, and her crew is worried about catching you in their big guns.”
     “Alpha squadron, our carriers are under siege; move over to give them cover. Our destroyers will have to take care of themselves.”
     “Gladius and Romeo, this is Xerxes. Those Knacker destroyers have us outgunned; we’ve already lost Hera and the rest of us have sustained damage. Concentrate all your firepower together on the destroyer which I’ve highlighted on your screens. Let’s see if those bastards can take what we’ve got.
     Simon was too busy to pay much heed to the com. His third and fourth kills came in quick succession, one a fluke really, when a Knacker fighter jetted across his bow and his main weapons, set on automatic, locked and fired instantly. He could hardly take credit for “his” kill, as it was over before he even knew what happened.
     For a while he continued flying cover for the two human carrier ships, one of which was home to his fighter squadron, until things got too hot and they fled back into hyperspace. He hated to see them go, but they’d return later if things went in favor of the humans. Hell, if the battle ended badly, then there would be no fighters to pick up anyway.
     After they departed, he hit his thrusters and turned, powering back toward the group of destroyers, hoping to provide cover and join any remaining members of his squadron. But before he could close with them, a proximity alarm sounded and his display flashed an angry red icon closing behind him. Damn!  He resisted the absurd impulse to turn and look over his shoulder. How had he let that Crab get so close? Well, nuts. There was nothing for it but to cut and run, and run he did.
     His ship served him proud, responding to his touch like a fine musical instrument to a maestro. He was known among his peers as an expert pilot, and he used every trick he knew to shake his pursuer, banking hard to port and starboard, rolling and reversing mid-turn, looping up and over in a high-g climb, abruptly braking with reverse thrusters in hopes the Crab would overshoot him. No matter what he tried, the Knacker fighter stayed on his heels, never quite lined up for a kill shot, but not losing contact with him. He pushed the limits of his ship and his own endurance, exceeding the recommended maximum g-forces for the hull. Several times he neared blackout, despite the inertial dampeners cushioning his fragile body from energies that would surely have crushed him to a pulp against the cabin walls.
     In a dogfight between closely matched opponents, the pursuer always has the advantage over the pursued. In the end it really was just a matter of time before the alien ship caught him in its sights. When it did, Simon’s day ended as quickly as it had started. It felt like a giant hand violently slammed him into his harness. A blinding flash, a deafening explosion—the sound of battle had reached him at last—and his controls went dead, the heads-up display flickering in and out of existence as he stared at it stunned.  He was drifting powerless, an easy target.
     As he shook his head to clear it, he waited for the ax to fall…but it never came. Instead he saw the Knacker fighter blur past him as it accelerated off in the direction of the human destroyers. He sat there bemused, too shaken to celebrate being alive. A human adversary would have finished off his opponent, firing an extra salvo for insurance. But the Crabs were truly alien creatures. Once his ship was no longer an active threat, they completely ignored it. This behavior had been noted in prior skirmishes as well. Knackers seemingly considered it more efficient to focus their efforts on the human ships still fighting, even if it meant leaving combatants alive.  Of course, there was also the darker explanation, that the aliens were loath to destroy a potential food item that they could pick up at their leisure later.
     Whatever the reason, Simon was still breathing, and he set about assessing his disabled ship’s status. His main engines were junk, not a spark of life left in their controls. Likewise for his plasma guns. The hit must have knocked out the main power relays from the reactor. He could see damage to his left delta wing, but it appeared to be superficial, no major structural loss. The explosion had kicked his ship into a slow roll, and as he looked out the bubble canopy, the glowing sphere of the planet Eden rose on his left, floated over his head, and dropped out of sight to his right, leaving the endless void of star-filled space above him before reappearing a moment later to repeat the cycle.
     The effect was dizzying and he dropped his eyes. As he scanned the instrument panel, a small green light caught his eye and he felt a stab of hope. Auxiliary power from the storage batteries appeared to be intact. This was insufficient to energize the weapons or main propulsion, but the batteries could fire the ship’s positioning thrusters, plus operate the sensors and com unit. He stabbed the controls that shifted power from main reactor to batteries, and let out a sigh of relief as the heads-up display reappeared. Next he hailed the Xerxes, then cursed when his helmet speaker returned nothing but silence. The antenna array must be fried. Ah well, there was nothing he could do about it. He’d best figure his options, if he wanted to live through this.
     He had dropped low toward the planet’s atmosphere during the dogfight, had even contemplated entering it at one point, as the human fighters had better handling characteristics in air than Knacker egg ships. Now his sensors told him that he was falling into Eden’s gravity well, slowly losing altitude as he was pulled inexorably toward the surface. He had no way of powering free of the planet, and no means of calling for rescue. That left only one option. If he was going down, then best to not do it as a flaming meteor.
     A frown of concentration knit his brows as he quickly worked calculations on the navicomputer. Yes, it was feasible—if he could avoid drawing the attention of the Crabs.  The Avenger’s conformation would allow a non-powered glide to the ground. But first he had to counter the spin of his ship, and level it out for approach to the planet’s outer atmosphere. He hit the starboard vertical thrusters once, twice and then lightly a third time, and brought the ship to a standstill. The planet was now steady under him, while the battle raged on above.  The ship was aimed slightly nose-down toward Eden, and another judicious nudge of the thrusters pushed it forward. He nodded with satisfaction as he checked his sensors; at his increased rate of fall he would soon enter the thin outer reaches of the atmosphere. After that it was all downhill, so to speak.
     Until then Simon had time on his hands, and he used it to check on the course of the battle playing out far above his canopy. His sensors painted a dreary picture. The humans had put up a good fight, in particular the newer fighters, but they were badly outnumbered. The Knackers were an ancient space-faring race, and over the course of millennia had plundered countless planets for materials to build their armada. They could attack anywhere, and often hit several star systems simultaneously. SpaceForce was spread too thin trying to defend the Federation.
      Optimists argued that humanity appeared to be the younger, more vigorous, and more innovative species at this stage in their evolution. Whether this proved correct or not, the numbers currently favored the aliens, and true to form, the smaller human force over Eden was slowly being decimated. The defenders were down to about two squadrons of fighters, and the enemy had at least twice that many still in action. Two human destroyers were flaming ruins, one had disappeared altogether—hopefully into hyperspace—and the remaining three were fighting for their lives. It looked like two Knacker destroyers had also been damaged badly enough to render them ineffective, but that left eight ships still waging war on the human fleet. Simon cursed vehemently, beating his fists on his thighs in frustration at his impotence. The outlook was grave, and he could do absolutely nothing to help.
     As he looked on, all three of the remaining human destroyers fired simultaneously on one of the Knacker ships. The combined energy impacts sheared a deep glowing gash into the starboard side of the alien vessel. Nothing vital was hit, however, and the ship returned fire, scoring direct hits with two plasma salvos on the lead human destroyer. Simon thought that it was the Xerxes, and he cringed as he saw flame gout from the stricken ship. It began to list sideways and its weapons went silent.
     Simon hung his head, unable to watch further. A few moments later he yanked it up again as the onboard display flashed an alarm for local hyperspace activity. Something was coming out of warp very near the battle zone.
     What eventually emerged into normal space was so large, and so unfamiliar, that at first Simon thought it must be an alien construct. To his surprise the ID tag on the heads-up display identified it as human: “SFS Titan, Lamprey Class super-dreadnaught.”
     Simon sat back and shook his head in wonder. A Lamprey!  Those were still in development, had been for over 5 years! This must be one of the first to see service. No wonder it had been late to the fight; there could not be enough of them to cover all the Federation planets. This ship must have responded to an urgent summons. Just how fast did that thing move in hyperspace?
     He stared in awe as the interloper moved closer and its dimensions became fully evident. Simon knew the ship’s basic specs, had read them in SpaceForce briefs. The Lamprey was over a half-kilometer in length, long and slender, a flattened cylinder capped at the front by a bulbous knob resembling the head of some primitive life form. Simon had heard that the class designation derived from a legendary Earth creature, which the ship’s conformation vaguely resembled.
     Its imposing size notwithstanding, the Lamprey represented a major advance in human weapons technology. Besides heavy plasma energy guns to fore and aft, and lateral weapons nearly as powerful, the super-dreadnaught possessed a single main gun unlike anything that humans—and hopefully Knackers—had ever seen. Ironically it was based on very old technology, something developed centuries before on Earth.
     At the Lamprey’s core, and running nearly the entire length of the ship, was a huge modified rail gun. It was so named because the ancient models had utilized long metal rails along which a solid projectile would slide, driven along the shafts by magnetic fields and ejected at tremendous velocities. The technology had been appealing from the start. It was simple in design, required only a cylindrical metal slug as ammunition, and could deliver as much impact as missile warheads at a fraction of the cost. The striking power came from the muzzle velocities the guns achieved; with that much kinetic force delivered on target, no other explosive was needed.
     The problem with the original designs, which had led to humans abandoning them as primary weapons, was that the projectiles moving at extreme speed created unacceptable heat and wear in the guns, which rapidly broke down the rail components.  Small versions had been deployed on naval warships, and these had performed adequately if used lightly, but the problems had worsened exponentially as larger models were attempted. Only now, with advances in materials science and energy manipulation, could a gun be built that enhanced the known strengths of rail guns and avoided their weaknesses.
     The new weapon was based on the general design and principles of the originals, but with one important difference. Instead of metal rails, this gun utilized dense force screens which under certain conditions could be made to behave like solid matter. Magnetic fields could be propagated down their length, and the projectile slid along the energy “rails” with virtually no friction or wear. Round after round could be fired without overheating the gun.
     The electromagnetic fields generated by the weapon used prodigious amounts of power, and no less than five fusion reactors were dedicated to powering the gun and the inertial dampeners arrayed along its length. Basic physics states that every action produces an equal and opposite reaction; without dampeners, the weapon’s recoil would kick the entire ship backward nearly a quarter kilometer with each discharge, or more realistically, the gun would probably be blown out the back of the Lamprey’s hull.
     As the entire super-dreadnaught was essentially a housing for the rail weapon, the ship had to aim directly at its target in order to fire. Simon watched with intent interest as the Lamprey approached to within about ten kilometers of the alien destroyers. The surviving human ships had redoubled their attack on seeing help arrive, but the Knackers found time to begin throwing energy beams at the newcomer. Then the dreadnaught fired back.
     The main gun’s ammunition was a cylindrical 100 kilogram slug of depleted uranium alloyed with titanium. This material possessed a density nearly seventy percent greater than lead. The round was further strengthened with an outer sheath of pure tungsten. The gun accelerated this projectile to a muzzle exit velocity of 223 kilometers per second, or over 800,000 kilometers per hour. The round traversed the ten kilometers to its target in less than 0.05 seconds.
     The kinetic force that the slug delivered to the Knacker destroyer on impact approached 2.5 million megajoules. This was equal to the energy released in the detonation of a 0.5 kiloton bomb. The alien vessel was armored with nearly 3 meters’ thickness of high-density refractory materials in multiple sandwiched layers, designed to reflect or diffuse high levels of incoming energy. However, the Knackers had relied on energy beam weapons for much of their history, and had tailored their defensive armament to protect against same. Sophisticated as it was, the destroyer’s hull was not designed to handle this type of assault. The rail gun round punched through the alien ship as if it were tissue paper.
     The slug’s tungsten sheath disintegrated on impact, exposing its heavy metal core. Depleted uranium has singular properties when subjected to extreme heat and kinetic forces. It instantly pulverizes and explodes outward in a cloud of fine particles. In these conditions the metal is also pyrophoric, meaning the dust cloud ignites into an intense fireball within microseconds.
     In real time, the Lamprey fired, and a faint blue aura lanced 100 meters out from the bow of the ship, as the exiting projectile dragged the gun’s energy fields with it into space. Simultaneously the front of one of the Knacker destroyers flared brilliant white, and then the entire ship…expanded…an instant before the hull split open like a cracked egg. Fire jetted from every orifice of the dying ship. The kinetic energy of the round, which continued on in the same direction as the original impact, exploded out the destroyer’s stern, blowing the rear quarter of the ship off into space. The entire event took less than two seconds.
     Simon sat stunned for a moment. Then he raised his arms high and shouted, “Yaa-hoo! That’s how we cook Crabs! Get ‘em, boys!” As he spoke, the Lamprey was already turning to target a second alien ship. Another blue flicker, and another destroyer became so much salvage material. A third vessel had joined its comrades in their death throes before the aliens had time to react.
     Almost as one, the remaining Knacker destroyers accelerated out of the firing path of this new threat. Then they wheeled and bore down on their attacker. The dreadnaught turned ponderously to track the enemy, but the alien ships were smaller and quicker. As a group they closed with the Lamprey and began unleashing their main energy weapons into its flanks.
     The dreadnaught had considerable firepower even in its lateral plasma guns, and bright beams lanced out along its length as the humans found targets. But it was no match for five destroyers at close range, and structural debris sprayed off the ship as the enemy weapons bit glowing chunks out of its hull. In a few moments the Lamprey turned away towards deep space and began to run. The alien vessels followed on its heels like a pack of wolves hounding their prey. Simon saw the remaining human destroyers begin moving to come to the aid of their beleaguered comrade.
     Abruptly his own fighter began to buffet and shake around him, and reluctantly he tore his gaze from the drama playing out in space above. A scan of his instruments confirmed that his ship had reached the outer limits of Eden’s atmosphere. He had to ensure that his approach angle was proper. If he came in too steep, he ran the risk of burning up on reentry.
     Once he was satisfied that he had it right, he looked up again, but the sky was hazing over with atmospheric molecules, and friction had started to glow his hull. The battle scene above faded from view until he could see nothing.
     With a sigh Simon leaned back in his flight seat for the long ride down to the surface. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let the adrenaline slowly bleed from his system. He had lived to see another day. Whether he lived to regret it was a different question.