The Word Is War Read online

  The Word is War

  Richard Tongue

  THE WORD IS WAR

  Doomsday War: Book 1

  Copyright © 2019 by Richard Tongue, All Rights Reserved

  First Kindle Edition: May 2019

  Cover by Keith Draws

  With thanks to Ellen Clarke

  All characters and events portrayed within this eBook are fictitious; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant;

  Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant;

  Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.

  Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;

  A soldier's billet at night and a soldier's ration;

  A heart that leaps to the fight with a soldier's passion.

  For I hold as a simple faith there's no denying:

  The trade of a soldier's the only trade worth plying;

  The death of a soldier's the only death worth dying.

  So let me go and leave your safety behind me;

  Go to the spaces of hazard where nothing shall bind me;

  Go till the word is War -- and then you will find me.

  The Song of the Soldier-Born, Robert Service

  Prologue

  “Damn it!” Commander Jack Winter exclaimed, as a swarm of red lights danced across the monitor screen, electronic gibberish scrambling across the display. He turned to the engineer standing next to him, Lieutenant Jennifer Moore, who shook her head with a sigh.

  “That’s the third time in an hour. I just can’t keep the damn system on line, sir. I don’t think it’s hardware. My guess is that we’ve got some bugs in the sensor analysis software. The program’s drawing hard on the network.” She grimaced, then added, “I don’t see a fix until we get home, either.”

  “Captain Cardoza isn’t going to be happy about that,” the third member of the team, Lieutenant-Major Joseph Morgan, replied. “Reality rarely seems to enter into his calculations.”

  “Watch it, Joe,” Winter replied. “I don’t necessarily disagree, but he’s still the Captain of this ship, and you will treat him with the respect he deserves.”

  “Funny,” Moore said. “I thought he was.” She looked up at the panel again, and added, “I’ll keep working on it, sir, but I think you’re going to have to assume the long-range sensors are unavailable.”

  “Great,” Winter said. “Just great.” He turned to Morgan, then asked, “I think this is better done in person, don’t you think?”

  “Less public,” Morgan agreed, glancing at his watch. “Coming up on change of shift, so he’ll be up on the bridge about now.”

  “About now?” Winter replied with a smile. “He’s damn near living up there. Not that I blame him.” Turning back to the engineer, he said, “Carry on, Lieutenant, and if you find any more problems, let me know right away, no matter how minor. A coding error this severe suggests a Board of Inquiry when we get home, and I want all the information we can gather. Having to do a second shakedown cruise will be bad enough. We don’t want a third.”

  “No, sir,” she replied. “I’ll get right on it.”

  The two men glanced at each other, then walked for the elevator, Morgan a step ahead as they made their way down the corridor. Their ship, the Heavy Cruiser Cerberus, was fresh from the shipyard, the smell of fresh paint still in the air, the decks gleaming and pristine. Everything about her was new, a technological step forward for the Terran Confederation, the culmination of a decade’s advancement in astronautical engineering.

  The only problem was that nothing worked.

  It wasn’t anything vital. The ship flew, the engines were in good condition, the weapons systems almost perfectly calibrated. They’d made a real effort on the tactical functions, but they’d been almost ludicrously sloppy on everything else. The lower decks had a strange tang from the lifesystem that the biochemists had assured them was harmless but had still driven half the crew to bunk down in the cargo bays, turning them into impromptu dormitories. As they stepped into the elevator, the lights switched from white to red, bathing the two old friends in an eerie crimson haze.

  “Great,” Morgan said, shaking his head. He glanced at his watch, smiled, and added, “Nineteen hundred. I guess it’s just about time for the emergency lighting to come back up. Always the same damn time every day.”

  “Security’s been over the lighting systems five times,” Winter replied. “There’s nothing there that they can find. Probably a single dud switch somewhere in the bowels of the system.”

  “Lieutenant Ramsey couldn’t find his butt with both hands and a guide dog,” Morgan grumbled. “Just another Academy brat.”

  “Hey, I was one a couple of decades back, remember?”

  “All too well, but you at least grew out of it.” He looked around the elevator, then said, “Style over substance. Just like I always said. Too much effort making this ship look pretty, not enough making her work.”

  “They’ll work out the bugs, sooner or later. They always do. A couple of heads will roll back home, and then…”

  “And then they’ll forget everything they’ve learned the next time they launch a prototype ship.” He grimaced, then added, “How did we get lumbered with this detail, anyway.”

  “Admiral Karkada thought that Captain Cardoza needed a seasoned Executive Officer during the shakedown tests.”

  “You ought to have a ship of your own, Jack.”

  “No argument here. Why don’t you sell that line to Admiral Karkada.”

  “The next time we meet, I just might do that.”

  Winter chuckled at the thought, then turned back to the door. He’d known Joe Morgan since he’d been a Marine, twenty years ago, when the veteran officer had taken the then-rookie Ensign Winter under his wing on his first duty posting, out on a now-abandoned space station on the frontier. When Morgan had been forced to leave the Marines, he’d transferred to the Fleet, keeping his rank, and now the roles were reversed, Morgan serving quite contentedly under his old friend. Sometimes, he thought that Morgan was more ambitions for his career than he himself was.

  Not that the thought of commanding his own ship didn’t have an appeal, of course, but there were too many officers, too few ships, and he hadn’t the time or patience to play the political game that might have got him a center seat of his own. Cardoza was his age, had been at the Academy with him, but now his classmate had an extra stripe and was on his second command. On the fast track. Whether or not he deserved it.

  The doors snapped open, and the two men stepped out onto the bridge. Lieutenant Ramsay stood to attention as they entered the command center, then slumped a little as he realized who he was saluting. Evidently he had expected Captain Cardoza, not Commander Winter. The command deck was every bit as advanced as the rest of the ship, the latest holographic control interfaces for the duty crew, both the sensor technician and the helmsmen wearing VR goggles to integrate them directly with the ship. And yet, there were still problems, too many amber lights instead of green on the monitors.

  “Good evening, Commander,” Ramsey said. “Major.”

  “Lieutenant,” Winter replied with a curt nod. “Where’s the Captain?”

  “Down in Sickbay. A surprise inspection.”

  “That should cheer up old Zheng,” Morgan said with a smirk.

  “Did you hear the news?” Ramsey asked. “Trouble on the frontier. The Colonial Workers’ Union is talking about a general strike.” Shaking his head, he said, “We ought to send in the Marines, clean house completely.”

  “Are you volunteering for that mission, Lieutenant?” Morgan asked. “Take it from someone who actually knows what he is talking about. There is nothi
ng worse than urban warfare. Close-quarters fighting isn’t like sitting up here on the bridge and pushing a button. You’ve got to get up close and personal, and you taste the blood of the people you kill as they die.”

  The young officer’s face grew pale, and Winter asked, “Any word on what the Senate actually intends to do about it?”

  “No, nothing yet, they’re still in debate. We can’t give in to them, though. Not without setting back our expansion plans by a couple of decades. They’re asking for far too much.” He looked at Morgan, then said, “It’s the Titan Terror, all over again. That’s how it started, forty years back.”

  “I hope to God you’re wrong about that,” Winter replied. “A quarter of a million people died in that fight, on the ground and in space. And we were damned lucky the death toll was so low. If we really ended up with a full-scale insurgency, we could lose tens of millions, see whole worlds depopulated. Better we keep talking, as long as we can. Even if it hurts our expansion plans a little. We’re talking about human beings, not machines.”

  “Policy decisions, Commander, are for the Senate,” the clipped voice of Captain Cardoza said, as he walked out of the elevator. “Not for us. If we are called to action, then we will do our duty, no matter the cost.” He looked at Winter, and said, “Is that understood?”

  “Captain?” Specialist Nakamura, the young crewman at the sensor station interjected, looking up from his panel. “We’ve got something on the mid-range sensors, right at the limit of our current resolution. A target in the wake of a comet.”

  “Show me,” Cardoza said, sliding into the command chair. The image of the comet flickered up onto the viewscreen, the long tail dominating the sky as it closed in on the local star. A red box surrounded a faint object trailing behind it, just large enough to make out that it had a regular, definite shape.

  “Could just be an odd-shaped asteroid,” Morgan volunteered.

  “Switch to long-range sensors,” Cardoza ordered.

  Shaking his head, Winter replied, “We still don’t have them running, sir, and Lieutenant Moore believes we won’t get them operational until we get home. That’s what I came up here to tell you.”

  “Helm,” Cardoza said, “Take us closer.”

  “Aye, sir,” Specialist Sabatini replied, her hands nimbly working the controls, bringing Cerberus’ engines to full power.

  “Might I recommend that we launch a probe instead, sir?” Winter suggested. “We don’t know what’s out there, and…”

  “Our systems are far more sophisticated than a probe package, Commander, and I am quite confident in the ability of this ship to ward off anything it might encounter, even with one eye closed.” He smiled at his own joke, and added, “Given the current interstellar situation, I would not be surprised if a Colonial ship was hiding out there, perhaps responsible for some of the systems malfunctions we’ve been experiencing.”

  “There’s no sign of sabotage,” Hunter protested. “Just carelessness.”

  “I disagree,” Ramsey replied. “My investigation has suggested that there are signs that Colonial sympathizers might have infiltrated the shipyard, and in that case, there could be…”

  “There could be a hundred reasons for caution,” Winter interrupted. “Sir, I strongly recommend that we at least bring the ship to a state of alert.”

  “If for no other reason than to test our combat systems,” added Morgan. “We’ve got several drills scheduled, and…”

  “And now might be a good time for another,” Cardoza said. “Very well. Commander, bring all decks to standby alert, and ensure you monitor their response times for the after-action briefing. I will want a full report.”

  “Aye, sir,” Winter replied, walking over to the wall and snatching a microphone. “Now hear this. Now hear this. This is the XO. All hands to standby alert. I repeat, all hands to standby alert. Department heads report readiness. That is all.” He replaced the microphone on the holder, then tapped the wall to bring up a monitor, watching as every department, one after another, hurried to prepare for action. Morgan slid smoothly into the Tactical station, earning a scowl from a disappointed Ramsey who had evidently hoped to man the guns himself, and Cardoza benignly watched as the ship continued to race towards the comet, towards whatever might be waiting for it in the dark.

  “Defensive systems engaged,” Morgan reported.

  “Excellent, Major,” Cardoza replied, flashing a smile. “Let’s hope we don’t need them.”

  Winter watched as the departments indicated their readiness, the senior staff hastening to respond to the alert. They’d picked a veteran crew for this ship, and it showed, their response times way above anything he could have hoped. After less than four minutes, the last light winked green, and he turned to Cardoza.

  “All departments ready, sir.”

  “Who was last to report, Commander?”

  “Life Support, sir, but it’s one of the biggest…”

  “That’s no excuse. Inform Lieutenant DePaul that I will expect a full report on the deficiencies of his department and the manner in which he plans to overcome them on my desk in three hours. If heads need to roll, they can.”

  “Sir, it’s a new ship, and Life Support’s responsibilities…”

  “I am not accustomed to repeating an order, Commander.”

  “No, sir. I’ll see to it.” Morgan flashed Winter a brief glance, then turned back to his station.

  “Nakamura, are we getting any clearer readings yet?” Cardoza asked.

  “Some, sir, but they’re getting deeper into the comet’s tail, and the particulate matter is causing some problems with our systems. I’m trying to work through it now, but we’re probably going to have to wait for our short-range sensors before I can give you anything definitive.” The technician reached for a control, and added, “Though I believe that it is artificial, sir. That I can say.”

  “Colonials,” Ramsey said, shaking his head. “Terrorists.”

  “We don’t know that, Lieutenant, and besides, what could they possibly have to gain?” Winter asked.

  “Elements of the Titan Rebel Fleet were never accounted for.”

  “Conspiracy theories are not tactical assessments,” Cardoza snapped. “I am inclined to agree with Commander Winter. More than likely this is a forgotten probe, debris from earlier exploration of this system. Or possibly a civilian ship engaged in unauthorized mining operations. I don’t believe in ghosts, Lieutenant, and I strongly suggest you adjust your beliefs to match.”

  “Aye, sir,” the chagrined officer replied.

  “Closing on target,” Sabatini said. “Contact in eight minutes.”

  “Coming into range now,” Nakamura added. “Definitely a ship, sir. It doesn’t match anything in our database. Design unknown.”

  Winter’s eyes opened wide, and he said, “Check that, Spaceman.”

  “Checked and verified, Commander.”

  “First contact?” Cardoza asked, his voice reverent. “After all this time? Here? Now?”

  “It had to be somewhere, somewhen, sir,” Morgan said. “Though I’m not so sure about that.” He looked up at a display screen, an image of the ship slowly building as the sensors harvested data, and added, “The alloys look familiar, along the same lines as ours…”

  “That might just mean parallel development, or that they came up with the same conclusions about metallurgy as we did,” Cardoza replied, his eyes gleaming, doubtless realizing that commanding the ship that made first contact with an intelligent alien race would propel him to his first star a lot faster than he could have ever hoped for. “More information, Nakamura. We need to know everything we can, right away.”

  “I’m on it, sir,” the eager technician replied.

  “Communications, any contacts?”

  “Negative, sir,” Specialist Singh said. “I’ve loaded up the First Contact pack and am ready to transmit at your command.”

  “I’d suggest we wait until we know more,” Morgan volunteered.
“Let’s let them make the first move, nice and slow. We don’t know their intentions. Assuming it is an alien race.”

  “Agreed, Major. Maintain approach, helm, but reduce acceleration. There’s no need to rush into anything.”

  Winter looked at the display, frowning. Humanity had reached the stars two centuries ago, the development of the first hypergate and the launch of the dimensional beacons allowing a slow, steady advance through local space. With more than five hundred visited systems, tens of thousands of worlds, and all the communications capacity of dozens of inhabited planets, humanity had yet to find any trace of sentient life.

  Alien life, certainly. Most worlds had some single-celled organisms, bacteria, viruses, and there were dozens of planets with more advanced ecosystems, some even rivalling that of Earth, long ago, but none of them had ever shown any sign of sentience. Nor was there even any sign that intelligent life had ever visited any world within reach. Mankind, as far as could be determined, was alone.

  Most spacemen had figured that sooner or later, they’d encounter intelligent alien life. It was a big galaxy, hundreds of millions of systems, and somewhere out there, other civilizations were doubtless waiting for them. But why here, and why now? They’d picked their target star because it was out of the way, with a dimensional beacon that had been emplaced to exploit mineral resources that failed to materialize on closer inspection. There was nothing special about this system, just a dull red dwarf with a distant Jovian and a handful of moons. A perfect place for a shakedown cruise.

  “Four minutes to target,” Sabatini said.

  “Correct your semantics, Spaceman,” Cardoza chided. “You will no longer refer to them as a target. This could be the greatest day in human history, and I have no intention of allowing anything to spoil it.”

  “Sir, I’m picking up power signatures from the unknown ship,” Nakamura volunteered. “Could be an engine warming up. Pretty hot readings, though. I suppose they might be attempting to spool up their hyperdrive.”

  “Time for the First Contact package, Singh,” Cardoza ordered.