Alien Empress (Argonauts Book 3)

  BOOKS BY ISAAC HOOKE

  Military Science Fiction

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  Visit IsaacHooke.com for more information.

  ALIEN EMPRESS

  ARGONAUTS

  BOOK THREE

  Isaac Hooke

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © Isaac Hooke 2017

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  www.IsaacHooke.com

  Cover design by Isaac Hooke

  Cover image by Shookooboo

  Special thanks to the following Beta Readers who helped out with this book:

  Nicole P.

  Sandy G.

  Gary F.

  Lance W.

  Lezza M.

  Amy B.

  Myles C.

  Lisa A. G.

  Gregg C.

  Jeff K.

  Mark C.

  Mark P.

  Jeremy G.

  Doug B.

  Jenny O.

  Gene A.

  Larry J.

  Allen M.

  Norman H.

  Robine

  Eric

  table of contents

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  nineteen

  twenty

  twenty-one

  twenty-two

  twenty-three

  twenty-four

  twenty-five

  twenty-six

  twenty-seven

  twenty-eight

  twenty-nine

  postscript

  about the author

  acknowledgments

  one

  Rade aimed his targeting reticle over the distant mech. The unit had emerged from cover only a moment before, revealing its position. The other tangos were likely hidden nearby, ready to offer ancillary fire.

  Rade resided near the top of a rocky escarpment, partially concealed behind a boulder. The camouflage skin of his Hoplite had changed to blend in with the surrounding terrain, hiding the rest of him, at least on the visual band.

  He tracked the target as it raced across the grassy plain, hurrying toward a knoll. He was about to squeeze the trigger when a missile alarm went off.

  The Raptor drone ten thousand meters above had detected his heat signature early: that could be the only explanation. The metallic hull of his mech absorbed heat much faster than the neighboring rock. He had hoped he would have a few more seconds.

  Apparently not.

  He had positioned his ballistic shield above him to protect against incoming laser fire; those in command of the Raptor obviously realized this, and had elected to fire a Hellfire instead to maximize the damage potential.

  Rade activated his jumpjets and fired his Trench Coat antimissile countermeasures. Thirty-four pieces of seeking metal emerged from the nozzles surrounding his waist. He latched onto the rock face higher up and ascended rapidly with quick movements of his arms and legs. Before he had moved very far explosions rocked the area and he lost his footing.

  Rade activated his jumpjets again, intending to make for a plateau higher up. He aimed his grenade launcher at the distant knoll below and released several frags. He also launched a few more grenades at potential hiding places the others might have been using.

  But before he landed on the plateau, his screen turned black.

  “Gotcha,” Shaw said.

  The inner cocoon of the cockpit retracted and Rade fell to the bottom of the chamber. He opened the hatch and emerged from the simulator pod.

  Seven other pods were crammed into the storage facility adjacent to the combat room. From them, the other Argonauts emerged.

  “Well that was fun,” Bender said.

  “Damn it,” Rade said. “You guys got lucky. The Raptor found me early. A few more seconds and I would have had you.”

  “You would have had Bender, you mean,” Tahoe said. “The only one of us who ran out into the open. The rest of us were still in hiding. And once you revealed your position by firing on Bender, we would have had you anyway.”

  “So you think,” Rade said.

  “You know,” TJ said. “Standardized maps are the way to go. This randomized mission bull is a crapshoot. Either the odds lean heavily in your favor, or against.”

  “That’s the way it is in real life,” Lui said. “We never get to pick the odds.”

  “Still,” TJ said. “Your starting position, and the respective positions of your hunters, can truly make or break the scenario.”

  “So this is what, the third time you’ve failed the qualification, boss?” Fret asked.

  “Fourth,” Rade said quietly.

  The survival qualification was taken straight out of Rade’s military background. As a MOTH, he had been required to retake the qualification once a year, and he enforced the same rule on each and every member of his crew. He used similar failure criteria as the military version, in that an unsuccessful applicant had to wait a week before trying again. But if this were an actual MOTH qualification, Rade would have been kicked out after the fourth time. The longest losing streak anyone had had so far was Fret, at six times in a row. The fact that Rade was closing on that number was more than embarrassing.

  “Maybe it’s time you hunkered down in the sim room with the rest of us,” Tahoe said. “And shot out some tangos, like we used to do in the run-up to qualifications.”

  “Why not just cancel the qualification entirely?” Fret said. “Come on, let’s be realistic. These types of scenarios never happen in real life. They’re so contrived. Thrown onto a rock face in the middle of a barren landscape. A Raptor searching for you overhead. A hunter killer team hidden somewhere on the plains below. When does that ever happen? You’d see the hunter killer team coming in from a mile away, with ample time to prepare, or snipe them.”

  “I’m not going to cancel the qualification,” Rade said. “We need to maintain our finely-honed edge. But TJ is right, the simulation scenario might be overdue for some tweaking. I’ll see if Harlequin can come up with something more realistic. In the meantime, I’m going to practice my ass off, as per Taho
e’s suggestion.”

  “Ha!” Bender said. “Practice! Everything can be solved with practice! When are you going to admit that you’re just too old, boss. You ain’t cut out for this boots-on-the-ground stuff no more.”

  “I’m not too old,” Rade replied. “As I said, I just need some more time in the sim.”

  “You know what the problem is, don’t you?” Manic said. “Too many bedroom sessions between you and Shaw. That’s where all your practice is these days.”

  “Hey, leave our bedroom out of this,” Shaw said. “The only reason Rade is failing is because... well, actually, Bender’s right. He’s too old.”

  “Thank you,” Bender said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Rade said.

  “Welcome, honey,” Shaw said sweetly.

  “When did my crew turn against me?” Rade said.

  “When you started requiring us to pass MOTH qualifications every year...” Fret said.

  “He’s right,” Tahoe said. “We’re not MOTHs anymore, boss.”

  “We still need standards,” Rade insisted.

  “Maybe it’s time to lower those standards,” Lui said.

  “Never,” Rade replied. “I told you, we can’t lose our finely-honed edge.”

  “But that’s what our combat robots are for,” Fret insisted.

  “Is it?” Rade said. “And what happens when the robots fail? Who fights for us then?”

  Fret didn’t have an answer.

  Rade noticed a call request indicator in the lower right of his vision. It was from Surus.

  Rade accepted. “Hello there, Surus, what can I do for you?”

  “Rade, I need to see you in your office,” Surus said.

  “I’ll be there shortly.” Rade disconnected and turned toward Shaw. “The alien needs to see me in my office.”

  “You and her have been spending a lot of time together in that office of yours...” Shaw said.

  “Come with me, then,” Rade said.

  “I think I will,” Shaw replied.

  The pair made their way to the bridge. When they arrived, they squeezed past that cramped series of curved stations to the adjacent office. Surus wasn’t yet there.

  Rade edged by the visitor’s chair, and his desk, to take his customary seat. Shaw remained standing.

  When Surus arrived, Rade gestured toward the visitor’s chair. “Have a seat.”

  Surus glanced at Shaw uncertainly, then sat. “Thank you.” The Artificial the alien inhabited always looked the same, the epitome of effortless beauty.

  “I appreciate your seeing me on such short notice,” Surus said.

  “Of course,” Rade said, leaning backward to rock his chair. “You’re our client. You’re paying for our time. So what do you have? You’ve found another Phant for us to track down?”

  “I have to return to my homeworld,” Surus said.

  Rade stopped rocking in his chair. “Why, what’s happened? Our mission is over, then?”

  “Not over,” Surus said. “Merely on hold. Our homeworld is under attack.”

  “Is it Phants?” Rade asked. “Motherships from another hive?”

  “No,” Surus said. “The Greens are mounting a desperate defense against an attack from another Tech Class IV race. I will call them the Hydra, though of course there is no translation for their true name in the human tongue. An aquatic race, the Hydra are one of the few species beside the Elder that the Phants could never conquer in their native region of space. The Phants did inflict great suffering upon them, however, and caused severe damage to their colonies. After repelling the involved Phant hives, the Hydra swore to hunt down every last one of our species, regardless of affiliation. They’ve had varying degrees of success in that regard, mostly tracking down those Phants that have chosen to nest away from the Motherships, subsisting upon the geronium deposits in the upper atmospheres of gas giants.

  “The Hydra have developed a sophisticated method of detection. Specifically, they dispatch seekers to furtively scan the gas giants of systems in the region, and whenever they encounter any hives, they send in a special kill fleet to clean them up.”

  “I take it they don’t discriminate between Greens and other Phants?” Rade asked.

  “They do not,” Surus said. “The Greens are grouped in with every other Phant in terms of their ‘enemy’ status. My homeworld was supposed to have a shielding system in place that would fool the scans of the seekers, but apparently the Hydra found a way around that.”

  “What can we do?” Rade asked.

  “I am returning to defend my homeworld,” Surus said. “I cannot ask for your help in this matter. It is beyond the scope of our contract.”

  “You don’t have to ask,” Rade said. “Because we’re helping without question. We owe the Greens. Without you, humanity would have fallen to the other Phants.”

  Surus nodded. “If you go, there is a good chance you will not return. In fact, there’s a good chance I won’t return.”

  “I understand,” Rade said. “Just let me tell the men. I don’t want to force any of them to come along.”

  “If you go, they’ll follow you,” Surus said.

  “She’s right,” Shaw said. “We’ll follow you to the ends of the galaxy.”

  Rade smiled fleetingly. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll do my best to discourage them. None of them has to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Like you said, we owe the Greens,” Shaw said.

  two

  When Rade relayed the news about the attack on the Green homeworld to his men, unsurprisingly everyone wanted to go.

  “How do we get to their homeworld?” Manic said. “The Greens collapsed the last Slipstream leading to their region of space a good, what, twenty years ago?”

  “I kept an Acceptor before our Mothership departed,” Surus said. “It resides under 24/7 guard on my base.”

  “Your base?” Manic asked.

  “Yes,” Surus said. “My company, Green Systems, purchased a Franco-Italian moon shortly after incorporating. I contracted some of the best developers in the galaxy to construct a headquarters on that moon. My own private base of operations.”

  “Must be nice to have cashflow like that,” Manic commented.

  “Once we reach the homeworld, I don’t suppose there’s a chance we’ll get some of those nice Tech Class IV mechs the Greens have?” Bender asked.

  “I have purchased several Titan classes,” Surus replied. “They are waiting at my base. You will all get one before we use the Acceptor to teleport to the homeworld.”

  “But Titans are not Tech Class IV,” Bender whined.

  “No, they are not,” Surus said.

  “Can we take the Titans back to the Argonaut when we’re done the mission?” Fret said.

  “Ha,” Tahoe said. “Good luck fitting even one Titan in the hangar bay. Far too tall.”

  “Then let’s get a new ship?” Fret asked.

  “We’ve been through this before,” Rade said. “The Argonaut suits our needs just fine for the moment.”

  “The Titans are for this mission alone,” Surus agreed. “Additionally, I am uncertain how long we will use them once we cross to the Green homeworld.”

  “What do you mean?” TJ asked.

  “The situation on the homeworld is grim,” Surus replied. “The siege has been ongoing for the past six months. I am not sure how much longer the defenses will last. When we arrive, it might be to a destroyed world. Or a world on the brink of destruction.”

  “So this ‘homeworld’ of yours is really just a Phant hive in the upper atmosphere of a gas giant, right?” Bender said.

  “That is correct. Or rather, several individual sub-hives, scattered throughout the atmosphere.”

  “What happened to that big skull-shaped ship of yours you used to drive around the galaxy?” Bender asked.

  “We still have it, of course,” Surus said. “Unfortunately, the ship is tied up in the war against the remaining Phants, and won’t
be able to reach the homeworld for another six years.”

  “Ah.”

  There were a few more questions and comments, and when the crew had no more, Rade dismissed the men.

  Shaw lingered in the combat room, which also served as the mission briefing area aboard the Argonaut. Tahoe stayed behind, too, not moving from where he sat cross-legged on the mat.

  “I don’t suppose we can continue toward our original stop of Bharat Station?” Tahoe asked.

  Rade checked the galactic maps on his Implant. “No, I’m afraid not. From our current location, if we continue to Bharat now, it’ll take us an extra three weeks to reach Taurus 62.” That was the moon where the Green Systems base resided. “I know you arranged to meet Tepin and the kids at Bharat. I’m sorry.”

  Tahoe hid his disappointment well. “Not a big deal. I mean come on, I’d much rather be fighting for my life on some alien homeworld on the far side of the galaxy, than spending time with my nagging wife while our kids run around out of control on the station. Who wouldn’t, right?”

  “I can’t actually tell if he’s being sarcastic or not,” Shaw said. “Considering how old his ‘kids’ are.”

  “It sounds like he’s not really looking forward to either option,” Rade said. “And I don’t blame him. Did Tepin already buy the tickets to Bharat?”

  “Yeah,” Tahoe said. “But it’s not a big thing to cancel. She’ll be happy to stay on Earth.”

  Rade rested a hand on Tahoe’s shoulder. “I know it’s been a long time since you were able to see your family. I’ll make it up to you when the current mission is done.”

  “It’s always when the current mission is done,” Tahoe said. “But when the current mission is done, we always have another mission. Sometimes it seems like we never have a break. I like to work like the next man, but sometimes I feel we’re headed toward burn-out. And I’m not just talking about myself.”

  “I’m not quite sure what you mean,” Rade said. “We have lots of breaks between missions. A ton of free time. It usually takes anywhere from three to eight weeks to reach a given planet involved in an op. Look at our current mission: we have two weeks until we reach the Green Systems base.”