They say time stops for no one but for Rita and Darren, they found that not to be true. Glen Aurellius found himself drafted into an alien led army and fought to survive. A group of military and civilian personnel found themselves on a tour of Federation space… and Necron-Xeno Alliance continued spreading darkness across the cosmos.
These stories and another are all in Multiverse 8…
Amazon: Amazon
B&N: B&N
PS: This is Book 92!!
Final one.
Running into issues replacing the covers on Amazon and B&N. 🙄
Typical.
Anyway... on to the last one!
Research and Development
Eugene Ryans, husband to Deidra, the queen of the realm, and king consort? He snorted at the idea. Whatever his title was these days, he had a problem. Well quite a few actually but the one currently causing him headaches was the plan to build the bombers to strike back at the pirates on their continental island three thousand kilometers east of the Imperium’s eastern coastline.
The plan was to build the craft in factories inland to protect them from the pirates. Actually all of the aircraft were built inland, so it wasn’t much of a big change. He just wished that they could do the same for ships. Build them in blocks and then ship them to an assembly drydock? He shook his head. It wouldn’t work. The pirates were watching the coast and apparently had spies all over the coast.
The bombers seemed like the smart plan to take on the enemy, to strike from afar and break their will. That was the general idea anyway. Putting it into practice was still an issue though.
He’d shot for the moon with the idea of building a jet bomber. Max had laughed that off so he’d been forced to scale back to something more tangible. He had realized that Max was right; a jet engine let alone a bank of them in a modern aircraft was still light years out of their reach. After all, the Imperium was still less than a decade out of the medieval dark ages. Pre-gunpowder! They were still struggling with modern medicine and tech like electricity was like black magic to them. They were still trying to modernize them to the point of using indoor plumbing, schools, agriculture.
He grimaced in exasperation. Another list that went on and on, he thought with a pang.
Max Howlett, the chief engineer of the realm, had recently made it clear that the B-29 Stratofortress that they had recently settled on was out of their league too. At least, for the foreseeable future. Which was why they had scaled down again to a B-25 Mitchell bomber that could barely make it to the enemy coastline one way.
How to get it back was a problem in itself. The pilots had been talking about rigging a bomber as a tanker and doing some sort of in-flight refueling or something or other.
He made a soft puttering sound at the thought. He wouldn’t want to try to refuel over the sea. What if they failed? That would suck.
The bomber project was a big project, on par with the other aircraft but oh so much more complex. Just trying to work out what they could use in existing production lines was probably giving the logistics people fits. Then there were all of the small farms that would have to be built and the politics around them, security concerns … power … he grimaced.
There was a big concern that a lot of their tech was falling into the wrong hands somehow. Evidence of that was that the pirates had fielded a carrier of all things. It was pre-World War II style, but the damn thing had raided the Nuevo Imperium some time ago. They had also fielded a craft that had shot up one of their PBYs and forced it to land.
Which was another problem. How to find the crew, the craft, and how to rescue them.
Well, first things first, get eyes on the scene. That meant flying, which meant a bomber outfitted with surveillance gear flying at altitudes that the pirates only dreamed about.
If Max and his miracle workers could do it.
---+--+-{0}-+--+---
Max Howlett was a big guy with hands covered in calluses, cuts, and perpetual dark stuff under his fingernails that could be from any number of things. He was the chief engineer of the Imperium and a rather busy man.
At the moment, a very busy and frustrated man, he thought with a pang.
He had been tasked with building a bomber to take the fight to the enemy. It was one task among many really, but at the moment, it was the one at the top of his ever-growing pile of things to do before he shuffled off this mortal coil.
He had struggled to design it, though he’d made some headway, but then Eugene had thrown him a curveball and asked for an updated version.
He understood Eugene’s reasoning. Why make a period correct bomber when they could make it faster, safer, with more range and more lifting ability?
There were of course issues though; there always was. He didn’t have the blueprints for anything. They’d thought that they could use the PBY engine off-the-shelf, and he’d worked from that basic assumption for weeks only to find out recently that they were too underpowered to do the job. They also had a tendency to overheat, and two engines had cracked blocks from bad castings. One had thrown a rod, which had torn an engine up. Fortunately, the plane had managed to limp back to land on the water near the coast and had been towed back to a port.
He frowned. Eugene was supposed to be in charge of where to place the factories and the politics involved. There was a lot of concern about people learning the wrong things and how that tech could be misused if allowed in the wrong hands. Duke Medicini was one such concern.
He rubbed his brow. Honestly, what they were doing was so far in advance of what others had that he doubted they’d understand. They could of course sabotage a factory.
He looked up in concern over that thought and then made a puttering sound. Best not to think of that. They were having enough issues with quality control and just getting their current stable of aircraft into the air let alone keeping them in the air.
He rolled his shoulders and neck and then went back to looking at the design document. It was almost a blank page. There were links to common parts with other aircraft, but they were sparse compared to what was needed.
He snorted. To think Eugene had tried to talk him into building a jet! He had nixed that idea, which had killed the idea of a jet fighter to use as an escort. Eugene had downgraded the project twice so far.
He scrubbed his face. There had to be a way to do it. He was looking at a complete engine redesign though, and that was causing a massive headache. Until he figured it out, he couldn’t work on anything else.
“Boss, we’ve got a fire at the LVP plant. And Cecily called to say she’s running late,” Jer, one of his assistants, reported as he leaned into his office.
“Shit. I’ll be right there,” Max growled as he saved his work, what little there was of it, and got up to go investigate.
---+--+-{0}-+--+---
Here is a snippet from the story Rolling Tide of Darkness:
UO5-16 Destroyed Hyperbridge Star System, Upsilon Sector
The first Necron-Xeno alliance convoy arrived in the destroyed star system with the usual explosion of expended energy as they exited hyperspace.
There were twelve ships in the convoy; they immediately sent out four cruisers to scout ahead of them. The rest of the task force then reoriented and set sail for the neighboring star system. It would take a few hours to cross to a point where they could jump into hyperspace once more.
Hazel Irons III was awake upon their arrival. The second generation clone was eager to get started. She knew there was a ticking clock; she needed to prove herself to her queen before an ansible transport arrived and the link to the alliance was established.
She also needed to set her hooks into the sector quickly. She was aware that their partners would no doubt be sending their own expedition. After all, they had been the ones to send the first two Preserver ships and find the partial hyperbridge to the virgin sector.
Her lips quivered in a smirk. Well, virgin to her queen for the moment. But like many virgins facing invasion, it would not be a virgin for much longer.
Soon the rather small and mostly unpopulated sector would be conquered and added to the collective. It would become a place for the alliance to grow more ships and fighters for the war to consume the galaxy. It would be a new unknown front against the Federation forces in the Tau sector.
All of that had to wait, however. She had a mission to perform. To do that, she had to push and exercise her limited initiative to dig her hooks into the sector as quickly as possible.
Once the Necron and AI navigators were ready, the ships jumped into hyperspace once more.
~///*\\\~
UR34DP-17 Empty Star System -Necron Cryptorium Preserver II
Cerberus, the Guardian of Tomorrow, stomped through the hidden base’s alabaster and black marble corridors to the command center.
He didn’t need to move in haste but did so because of the urge to do something, even if it was little.
“Report,” he barked, red eyes glowing with anger and purpose.
“Ship arrival detected,” a Necron voice whispered.
“Multiple ships detected,” another voice stated.
“Passive sensors are too far out to get a definitive identity,” the first voice whispered.
The knight paused and turned to the Caretaker as she gently laid a hand on his arm as if to brush past him. She glided into the room and then paused.
“Defense is my domain,” he warned.
“So be it. If we are in need of defense, you will of course be in command. But for the moment, we continue to hide.”
“Agreed,” the knight commander growled.
~///*\\\~
Hazel noted that there was no attempt to contact them upon arrival. That was irritating. She had been warned that the base was hidden. “Olly olly in free,” she whispered.
She saw the Necron ship captain turned to her.
She shrugged. “Worth a shot,” she joked. He did not react to her attempt at levity.
“Tough crowd,” she said as she looked around the room. “Have we established that there is no one else in the star system?”
“Confirmed,” a Necron sensor tech reported.
She looked to the captain. “May I suggest we transmit our IFF and any codes to get the Cryptorium to report its presence?” she asked mildly.
The Necron ship captain went over to his throne and tapped in a command. After a moment, a pulse could be seen echoing out from the flagship in a wave. A second pulse of information followed a moment later.
Attempting to make contact with the Cyptorium was important in the grand scheme of things, Hazel noted. The question was would they reveal their presence?
~///*\\\~
The Caretaker was on hand when the signals came in. The first identified the ships as from the alliance; the second was a command to contact the ships. That would of course reveal their location within the star system. “It has been confirmed. They are friendly and are aware of our presence,” she said with a look to the knight.
The rest of the council had been woken from their stasis slumbers and were present.
“Do you concur that they are not a threat.”
“They are not a threat … for now,” the knight ground out, clearly unhappy with anyone knowing of their location.
~///*\\\~
The ruling council was wary of the order to reveal themselves. Instead, they bounced a signal off of several rocks to hide their location.
The bounces delayed the conversation. It was ultimately in their favor; other than the order to reveal themselves, the newcomers did not have any other codes or a message from the Gravemind or Guiding Intelligence.
~///*\\\~
Sitrep: Starting to ramp up on writing Shelby 10.
This snippet is from the story The Tour, a Federation story:
Agnosta
Chief Warrant Officer 2 Nohar Yellow Tiger Rajestan was nervous but did his best to fight the jitters down. He’s been in stasis pods before; this would be no different.
He just didn’t like confined spaces. The pod was bad. But the coffin was a temporary evil; it meant he’d be asleep for the journey ahead.
He still wasn’t certain what possessed him to take on the journey. Orders obviously, though with his rank he could have gotten out of them had he wished. General Anhueser’s personal request and reminder that it could help him with his ongoing fear of travel too. His therapist Maddy had also been on that wagon.
He glanced at the nurse. She looked impatient.
“I’m going,” he muttered.
She indicated the pod.
“Okay, okay,” he muttered as he climbed in.
“It’s like taking a nap, sir.”
“I’m a warrant. Don’t call me sir.”
“Sorry, Warrant … ah, Chief Warrant Officer … um …”
“Chief is fine. Not that we’ll know each other long,” he growled. The nurse smiled and began to hook him up. A jack was attached to his implants to plug him in and monitor his vital signs. Additional sensors were attached for backup purposes.
“Can you leave the door open until I’m asleep?”
“That’s against protocol,” the nurse said with a frown. A doctor out of his range of view cleared his throat. She looked up. “… But I guess so, Chief.”
“I know; I sound like a kid,” the cat muttered, ears back. His fur was up. He knew he was anxious.
“Just try to relax, sir. The drugs can’t take hold until you relax,” the nurse said, voice dropping into a calming lilt.
He growled something but she kept moving. He could smell her since she was so close. Humans tended to like perfume and this one liked jasmine. It was a bit cloying, clogging his nostrils. He fought the urge to sneeze.
“Just close your eyes and picture a nice sunny day. Taking a nap in a hammock on a porch maybe …”
He let his eyes droop and then close.
“That’s good. Now, I’m attaching a Somnetic Delta Wave Inducer,” the nurse said. “It will help you fall asleep.”
Nohar grimaced but didn’t reject that. He had used the device a few times when anxiety had gotten the better of him and he’d needed to sleep. It was better and safer than drinking himself to sleep to avoid the nightmares. He felt the device being placed on his forehead. After a moment, there was a slight click sound and then he started to feel lethargic.
He heard the nurse say something in an approving voice and then nothing more.
---#---
Major General Pasha 101001 looked out the window as the shuttle continued to climb to orbit. As missions went, this one was better than most. It was also long overdue. He just wasn’t certain about it.
He had pitched the idea of an inspection tour to the Admiralty several years ago. He had thought it had been forgotten until a decision on high had come up. He’d been a bit wistful about seeing home again and had hinted about taking an assignment there or retiring. Apparently, that had made certain parties volunteer him for the mission.
His basic inspection tour had been bloated. The navy had provided one of their super fast couriers but they’d tagged their own IG inspector onto the mission. He’d been fine with that until the Marines had coughed up two of their own IG officers.
His staff had been pared down from seven to five including his AI Jack. One of his staff was First Lieutenant Angie Samara from the army AG office too, replacing his adjunct. That had been irritating. Not that he really needed someone to hold his bag.
Officers from Inspector General’s office from any branch of government were generally not well received. They were very much into nitpicking down to spot-checking the number of nuts and bolts in containers.
Pasha thought of his mission as showing the flag, going around and showing off to the public as well as the military personnel that the military did care about the individual bases and so on.
Of course before each arrival and supposed colonoscopy, the commanders of the AO would be busy scrambling to get everything neat and tidy. The rank and file might complain about such antics but it served a purpose. Well, correction, several purposes, Pasha thought. One was to put everyone on notice that they were checking in and cared about getting shit right. The second concept tied into the first; it was that if they were going to try something stupid, think twice, big brother was watching.
The third they all knew about already was for publicity and morale. The troops felt better when they knew that the bosses actually cared about them and their welfare. Listening to some of the troops and seeing them show off their skills was also important.
The senate Military Affairs Committee had gotten wind of the mission and sent their own representative from the senate IG office. He had yet to meet her.
He’d put his foot down at any additional people when he’d heard the mutterings about other government departments wanting to tag their own people in. The last thing he needed was a love boat with a couple dozen petty bureaucrats. Besides, the little courier could only handle eight passengers. Going with more people would have meant a bigger ship, which would have been slower and would have defeated the purpose of doing it fast.
Fast hell, he thought as the shuttle’s main engines cut off and they drifted to the station in orbit of the moon. He’d be lucky if the mission was completed in four years. He was expecting delays that would run them to five easy he mused darkly. He glanced over to his crew. They were all looking out the windows. He snorted to himself and then closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Better to meditate than get drawn into some last-minute paperwork or some such nonsense.
---#---
They say time stops for no one but for Rita and Darren, they found that not to be true. Glen Aurellius found himself drafted into an al...
