Freefall (Rebel Stars Book 4) Read online

  

  ~ REBEL STARS, BOOK 4 ~

  © 2017

  Edward W. Robertson

  Art by Juhani Jokinen.

  Typography by Stephanie Mooney.

  THE COMPLETE

  REBEL STARS

  REBEL (Book 0)

  OUTLAW (Book 1)

  TRAITOR (Book 2)

  RONIN (Book 3)

  FREEFALL (Book 4)

  STARDUST (Book 5)

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  please sign up for my mailing list.

  The rest of my books are available on Amazon.

  1

  "For the second time in human history," Toman Benez said, "we are about to be invaded by an alien race."

  He paused. It was a well-practiced pause, one he'd polished to a mirror shine during the days he'd waited for the assorted leaders and dignitaries to gather on his ship in high orbit above Mars. Once the pause had endured for the appropriate length, he opened his mouth to go on, just as he'd practiced, but the words stuck inside his throat.

  Forty pairs of eyes, once locked on him, began to exchange looks.

  In the front row, MacAdams clasped his right fist in his left hand, knuckles going white. Rada sat to MacAdams' right. The chair to his left was empty. Left that way for Webber.

  Seeing the vacant chair, Toman's voice unlocked. "The Dovon call them Those with Words of Friends and Hearts of Treason. We call them Lurkers. No one knows what they call themselves. For decades, they've watched us from the outer fringes of the Solar System, destroying any ship that threatened to explore beyond—or to expose them. Until a few months ago, we didn't know they existed. A few weeks after that, we discovered they'd already sent a fleet."

  Everyone in the room knew that already, but the Belters murmured to each other, faces angry. Kansas Carruth and the representatives of the Locker's crews—including her formal rivals the Blackwings and Orcs—laughed grimly, cursing to each other. One man actually spit on the floor. The Martian delegation clustered around a device while the Lunars spoke in whispers. The corporate delegation (which included reps from Nevedia, Vatonberg, Conex, and others—small, but most were operating with Toman through backchannels) stirred, exchanging messages through their devices. Harry Fontaine, the diplomat from Earth's Unified Defense League, said nothing, staring at Toman while his aides sat stiffly.

  "Here is what the Lurkers are bringing against us." The blank white wall behind Toman lit up with a view of deep space, stars tossed across the blackness like jewels. In the center of the image, a cluster of dark smudges blotted out the stars behind them. "See the middle there, where it looks like someone smeared grease across the screen? That is the Lurker fleet. They're emitting very little radiation of any kind, but my people have spent days analyzing the video. Best we can tell, the enemy has a force of not less than five hundred ships."

  "That's it?" Can-Rita, a Belt Dasher, tossed back her head. "We could scrape up that many fighting vessels ourselves."

  "We're not going to beat them with even numbers. These are warships capable of crossing light years of void. We already know they outclass us. The Lurker ship my people fought beyond the Black Curtain in the Kuiper was wielding tech that's way beyond us—combat-viable lasers, jammers, advanced stealth."

  "Yet your people still beat it."

  "Key word being 'it.' A single ship. One that had almost certainly been on patrol for years, if not decades, and might have been light on weapons and heavy on repairs. Even then, beating it took the efforts of our most advanced ship, my best team, a tactic that won't work again, and a whole lot of luck. The ships they're bringing against us now will be newer. It's hard to say, given their stealth features, but we think they're bigger, too. Maybe big enough to house additional fighters."

  Toman paced across the front of the room. He'd been giving speeches to shareholders, employees, and partners since he was sixteen. Typically, he relished the chance to take information that had taken months or years of work to gather and condense it into an hour of crystallized knowledge that he could pass onto others as easily as you might hand them a cup of coffee.

  But that had been business. This was war. He had confidence in his leadership of the former. The jury remained out on the latter.

  He straightened his back. "We don't have much in the way of hard information about the Lurkers. That's a problem. But we can still extrapolate from circumstances. We know they've been watching us for decades. They will be well-acquainted with our defenses, our technology, our capabilities, maybe even how we think. Their observations aren't all from a distance, either. Over the course of keeping us trapped in our home system, they've destroyed hundreds of probes, drones, explorers, and warships, gaining firsthand experience in what it takes to kill us.

  "So they have all this information about us, right? Theoretical and practical knowledge. Years and years of it. Now, they've launched a fleet at us. What does that say?"

  "It says they expect to win," Kansas said.

  "Exactly. The fleet represents a tremendous investment of resources. They wouldn't have launched it unless they were extremely confident."

  "So what? In every fight, both sides expect they're gonna win, or else they wouldn't be fighting in the first place. Guess what? One of them is always wrong. Why can't it be the Lurkers?"

  "Certainly, they could be wrong about their chances." Toman found that he was pacing again. "They could be overconfident. They could have misinterpreted key data. It's even possible they're not certain they can win, but launched an invasion anyway, be it due to troubles on their home world, or in a desperate attempt to stop us from advancing to the point where we become rivals. There are any number of ways that we could be in less trouble than we fear. Nonetheless, my argument is that until we know different, we have to treat this as a full-fledged invasion. One that means to conquer or destroy us. One that we have to resist with all of our power."

  "Your point is obvious." Ambassador Fontaine's voice was as smooth as marble. "If we overprepare for their attack, and beat them handily, then nothing is lost except for a little time and labor. Yet if we underprepare, and are defeated because of it, then the least we stand to lose is our freedom—and perhaps our existence. If that is all you came here to say, one might wonder why we came here to listen."

  His Earthside aides looked down, smirking into their laps. Toman didn't think this point was necessarily obvious, especially to a room full of people from places like the Locker and the Belt, fractious pirates and freeholders whose typical response to outsiders giving them orders was a burst of gunfire. People like that would need persuading to join any chain of command where they weren't the top link. Earth, he could already see, was going to be a problem.

  And without Earth, they were lost.

  "We are talking about the continued existence of our species," Toman said. "You'll forgive me if I want to make sure we're all on the same page. Does everyone here understand the gravity of this threat?"

  He was met by nods, grunts, and an upthrust fist from the commander of the Orcs.

  "Then let's move on to our most recent intelligence." Toman tapped his palm with his ring finger. On the screen behind him, the angle shifted slightly. Now, rather than a single smudge, there were two: a larger one lingering behind, and a smaller one streaking forward.

  "The fleet has already split." He indicated the lagging group. "The majority of their ships are braking hard, getting themselves down to effective combat speed. A splinter group is coming in much faster. It isn't hard to guess their intention. They'll swoop past our outer lines, scout our defenses, and relay that to the main fleet. We have to assume they'll also have a list of high-priority targets
. On their pass through the System, they'll strike anything they can to soften us up. This advance unit is set to arrive six days before the main attack."

  This set the room buzzing again. Aley Rhoads, one of the Lunars, lifted her hand. "Judging by their flight path, is there any indication of where they're likely to attack?"

  Toman shook his head. "We can just about rule out Neptune. Beyond that, it's too early to know."

  Fontaine chuckled like the purr of a great cat. "There's no need to guess. They'll come for Earth."

  "If you have information I don't, I'd love to hear it."

  "What I possess is common sense. Let us break down the possibilities. If the advance incursion, a mere fraction of their strength, is powerful enough to engage us in fleet action, then we're doomed no matter what we do. If it isn't powerful enough for direct combat, it will seek to maximize its hit-and-run damage. As much as we have spread ourselves across the System, Earth remains our heart and our head. They'll come for us."

  Toman folded his arms. "We don't have any data to indicate that's true. Even if it is, we won't have to commit ships to it for another few weeks."

  Fontaine lifted one palm. "The argument for the robust defense of Earth is the exact copy of the one you just made regarding the invasion. If these Lurkers strike an outlying station, which can easily be evacuated in advance, then little strategic value is lost, and we will fight on. But if they successfully attack Earth, then everything is lost. So that is what we must defend: for the cost of not doing so and being wrong is suicide, while the cost of overcommitting to Earth and being wrong is minimal."

  "Not if it's my station that winds up nuked," Can-Rita said.

  Fontaine shrugged.

  Toman tapped his hand again, dragging his finger over his palm. The screen behind him seemed to protrude outward, becoming 3D; the view of the stars shifted to a stylized map of the System, complete with oversized planets and stations making their orbits around the sun.

  "Our defense doesn't have to be all or nothing." He walked into the middle of the virtual model, conjuring up a fleet of icons from the Kuiper Belt and tracing it sunward. "We can post enough ships around Earth and the moon to try to dissuade an attack on our core, limiting damage to less vital regions of the System. But if we've got enough units at our disposal, we can field a second fleet to meet them head on."

  Can-Rita tipped back her head. "Didn't you say they'd be coming in faster than a greased cheetah? How d'you expect us to keep up with them?"

  "If we get our interdiction fleet accelerating early enough, we can match the speed we're projecting them to be at as they enter our space." He gestured across the model, conjuring up a new fleet icon and sending it on a broad loop throughout the outer System, accelerating all the while. Once it had matched speeds with the invaders, it bent course to meet them. "It's going to take a little finesse, but we should be able to intercept them before they come within range of any major stations."

  "And what do we do if they decide to speed up and shake us loose? They just flew here from somewhere so far away that if I had a penny for every mile they'd crossed I'd bribe them to turn around and go back home. It's pretty damn obvious they've got gear that we don't. Don't tell me you think we can out-burn them."

  "If I did think that, you should hospitalize me immediately, as I would have a case of terminal optimism. Yes, we have to assume they'll be able to out-accelerate us. But even if they ramp it up to a speed we can't keep up with, that leaves them less time to do awful things to us as they zip through the System. They'll have less flexibility in what they can target, too. With our main fleet keeping them away from Earth and the moon, the Lurkers might be able to bruise us, but they won't be able to cripple us."

  "And what about Mars?" This came from Christina Black, the severe-looking prime minister of the Martian Global Council. It was an honor to have her on board instead of a representative, but Toman suspected that if the meeting hadn't been in Mars orbit, Black would have sent one of her secretaries instead.

  She gestured to the screen on the right-hand wall, which displayed an image of orange-brown Mars passing below them. "Besides the motherland of Earth, Mars has some of the biggest population centers in the System. To say nothing of the shipyards at Ares."

  "Then maybe along with the defense fleet and the pursuit fleet, we need a sweeper—a third fleet assigned to cover Mars and as much of the Belt as possible. If the enemy comes for a target here, the sweeper fleet can make them pay." Toman rocked on his heels. "But we're in danger of getting ahead of ourselves. Before we can hash out a strategy, we have to know what kind of resources we have in play. How many assets can we bring to the field? I'm talking fighters, drones, and anything that could be classed as a capital ship. How many can you reasonably field in the seven weeks until the Lurkers' initial strike reaches our borders?"

  He gazed across the dozens of faces gathered in the high-ceilinged chamber. Everyone had on their poker face now, glancing at each other from the corners of their eyes. Were they really getting cagey at a time like this?

  Just as he was about to say something exasperated and ill-advised, Kansas Carruth leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

  "I have no problem being transparent. As you might have guessed, the recent warring didn't do us any favors, but the Hive and FinnTech are now working together to rebuild as fast as we can. I estimate that by the time the Lurkers' first fleet arrives, we'll be able to field approximately 120 combat-ready vessels. Roughly a hundred will be fighters, mostly heavy. The rest will be support and command boats."

  Kansas nodded. "We'll be closer to a hundred. But the crews are working on converting everything with a hull into something that can shoot back. Doubt what they come up with will be much more than cannon fodder, but if the aliens are bringing as many cannons as it looks like, then we'll need plenty of fodder, too."

  Toman frowned. "You could just use them as drones."

  "And waste the chance to let the crews I don't like go out as heroes?"

  "The Belt can pitch in about eighty ships that have half a chance of scaring someone," Can-Rita said. "And another four or five hundred of what you you would be wise to call 'light fighters' if you're in punching distance of a Belter."

  Toman tapped a note into his palm. "These light fighters, are they capable of fighting alongside a fleet? Or are they better designated for local defense?"

  "What you should be asking is whether a a swarm of flies can take down a rhino."

  "I don't actually know the answer to that. For now, I'll put them in the 'local defense' column." He amended his note and looked up. "Who's next?"

  "'Who's next,'" Ambassador Fontaine said. "Hustling right along, aren't you, Mr. Benez?"

  "Right now, we can count down the minutes until the aliens start shooting us. Until that moment comes, I intend to treat each of our remaining minutes as the most valuable thing on earth."

  "A fine example for the rest of us to follow. Yet you'll forgive me for feeling as if while we're discussing outmaneuvering the invaders, you are working to outmaneuver us."

  "I'm sorry, Ambassador?"

  "You've called us here to your ship to discuss the intelligence you've gathered regarding the so-called Lurkers. It is of course unusual to handle intelligence in this manner rather than forwarding it directly to the leaders of Earth, Luna, Mars, and the many stations, but you've put yourself through a great deal of hardship to attain this information, so your wishes must be respected."

  Fontaine smoothed the front of his suit, which had buttons on it. Toman hated buttons and was suspicious of anyone who wore them. They were as inefficient and outdated as a gasoline-fired engine. Thus wearing them was a specific statement, one that seemed to rebuff or reject the modern era—an era he'd been partially responsible for creating.

  The ambassador motioned to the hologram of planets and fleets. "I came here to receive this information, and to deliver the gratitude of Earth's people
for your having shared it with us. But it seems as though this gift comes attached to some extremely thick strings.

  "You speak like being the first to learn a few tidbits about the coming enemy entitles you to control our entire response toward that enemy. But you're just one man, Toman Benez, in charge of a single corporation. If you think you're going to lead the defense of humanity as we fight for our very existence, you're dead wrong—for you will do so without the help of Earth."

  2

  Toman would have sworn the room went nine degrees colder. The attendees sat up straighter. You could almost see their ears pricking forward.

  "I'm sorry," Toman said, "but where exactly have I implied that I'm in charge of humanity's gestalt defense?"

  Ambassador Fontaine made a swooping little "voila" gesture. "You have invited half the System here. You stand at the front while we listen; you lecture us as to what the enemy does and how we must respond; you tell us what can and can't be done, and how we must defend ourselves. You would use your authority as an expert on data collection to claim authority over our military command. What else can this be called but a soft coup?"

  "How many coups have you known to take the form of an open discussion among representatives from every corner of the System?"

  "Do you deny that you intend to shape our survival strategy?"

  "Of course I want to—"

  "If you would crown yourself the architect of our survival, doesn't that make you our king?"

  Toman rubbed his mouth. "I'm not here to anoint myself lord high general. I'm here to gather and shape ideas. It's up to everyone else to decide whether those ideas are worth pursuing. When we're searching for who to listen to, who do we look to? Those with experience. So let's look at a few key facts. First, my pilots are the only people to have fought the Lurkers and survived. Second, my pilots—along with several from FinnTech, which is now working under our umbrella—are just about the only people who've flown with the Motion Arrestors in live combat.