Oncoming Storm

AGE OF SECESSION : ASCENT OF MARS TRILOGY PART I

ONCOMING STORM

In Memory

For Mike O’Brien

AGE OF SECESSION : ASCENT OF MARS TRILOGY PART I

ONCOMING STORM

Second Edition

Published in Great Britain by Roger Ruffles, February 2018

www.ageofsecession.com

Copyright © Roger Ruffles, 2016

Front cover artwork on license courtesy of dreamstime

Front cover design © Roger Ruffles, 2016

First published by Roger Ruffles, July 2016, Smashwords Edition

The right of Roger Ruffles to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. This ebook is subject to the Laws of England and Wales.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author and publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Also By The Same Author

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#3 Shadow

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#2 : Blood Feud

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#4: Blood Money – Full Trilogy

Age of Secession: Ascent of Mars Trilogy

#1 : Oncoming Storm

#2 : Darkness of Mars

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#4: Ascent of Mars – Full Trilogy

Age of Secession: Standalone books:

The Unchained

Out Early 2018:

Pay Dirt: Dishonest Intentions

Coming 2018/2019:

Augmented Genocide

The Lost Kindred

Adare’s Legacy: Kingdom of Blood

Collective Misdirection

www.ageofsecession.com

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Prologue

Nearly two hundred years into the future

After the Age of Secession began

The man in the rich fabrics and cloths walked slowly into the class-room, his body still healing from the ferocious trauma it had suffered. He was nearly two centuries old, but that was not even middle-aged by modern standards, and he felt twice that age. Through the metaglass windows, the ruins of the city could be seen, the red dust blowing in and reclaiming everything. It had been decided not to rebuild, all that time ago, but to leave this part of the planet forever as a testament to what had happened. Its destroyed state was a mirror of the man’s own body, the scars deep and the ruins mocking.

He sat down in front of the assembled children, all of them cross-legged in front of him on the floor. Schoolrooms such as this were not common, but reserved for the rich, the powerful, and the vain; except this one was special. Each one of the children was the heir or heiress to someone very powerful indeed, and it helped to have them grow up together. It was a common technique used for thousands of years, to bring those who might one day have to face off across each other on the battlefield, in the houses of government, in the law court or in the bedroom, into contact with each other early in their lives. It lessened the chances of misunderstandings.

Yes, thought the man, as he waited for the children to pay him attention, their rulers had re-learnt that one again. Such unity of approach and thinking had not existed when he was a child. He was unsure whether he approved, but it gave him something to do while he recuperated. He sighed and pulled his mind back to the present; it seemed it was the nature of the human race to forever make the same mistakes, over, and over, and over again.

So, children, he said, speaking aloud. What would you like to hear of today?

A number of hands shot up into the air.

Yes, young man, he said, pointing at one who was usually amongst the more quiet of the group.

Sir, he said, big eyes staring forwards, voice faltering as he spoke shyly. It’s the Day of the Diadochi today. Could you tell us about something that led to the rise of the diadochi again?

Some of the children groaned, but the man held up his hands and they quietened instantly.

Very well, he said. I will tell you a new story, one you may not know. You are probably old enough to hear it now, anyway. We don’t tell this story often, even in my family. You won’t know, and it’s not often spoken about, but the great hero James Gavain often thought he had as many failures as he did victories; but at the time he viewed this story as being one of his worst failures ever. He viewed it as his biggest mistake, worse even than when he obliterated fifteen star systems, believing there to be no cure to indoctrination. Do you want to hear it?

There was a chorus of affirmatives from the children, and the man laughed.

Then I shall begin, he said. This is the story of the oncoming storm, and James Gavain’s greatest failure.

Chapter I

Near the end of the fourth year

Of the Age of Secession

The two hovercycles coasted gently through one of the many industrial zones of Olympus Mons City, decelerating as one after another they dropped down towards the shattered ground level. They left the mostly abandoned lower tier of the air-lanes formerly used by hover-capable vehicles, moving slowly along the deserted main roadway. The repulsorcycles bore the Enforcer emblem on their protective, armoured riders’ shields, although the traditional galaxy-wide symbol was carried on the background of the StarCom Federation, which now ruled Mars and the entire Sol System.

said the lead Enforcer Full Class across their private datasphere, her head moving within the visored helmet as she looked around at the devastated buildings to either side.

said her wing-rider, a Lance Enforcer. The repulsorcycles throttled down to low power, barely making a noise as they coasted along the roadway, having to dip below collapsed building superstructure and jump shattered rubble and remains all along the wide street.

snapped the Enforcer Full Class Muller,

replied the Lance Enforcer Deinhart.

scoffed the embittered Enforcer Muller.

The Lance Enforcer Deinhart wisely kept the rest of his opinion to himself. He remembered what it had been like, the fear as the False Emperor descended further into madness, as the Praetorian Guard had turned on each other, stormed the Sol System, invaded Mars, and the False Emperor had been shot in the head at the Red Palace here in Olympus Mons City. It had been the end of several years of civil war, of hatred and suffering. Although Deinhart had to admit, his officer had a point, Dissolution of the Red Imperium had not led to an end to the pain. As the Red Empire tore itself apart, the killing and fighting had increased as the noble Houses had scrabbled for power.

He brought his mind back to the present, as Enforcer Muller said,

replied Enforcer Deinhart, completely deactivating his repulsorcycle. As the hover engine powered down, the landing struts extended and the machine gently touched pads to the metacrete roadway. He swung his left leg off the hovercycle, supporting with his right hand as the left unlocked the Scaletipper-model pulser-rifle from its magnetic seal on his back. His eye augments lit up with a target-painting display as he scanned for any threat. There was nothing here, he thought, this is a waste of time.

ordered Enforcer Full Class Muller. She had un-locked her Peacemaker shotgun, preferring close and personal, from her Class-II Enforcer Suit armour.

Deinhart looked at the target building before them. It was unremarkable from the other industrial units, about ten stories high, a feeder gantry running above it which had been damaged in the fall of a tower further up the street. This building had survived intact, but many on the street had not. Hundreds of thousands had perished here when the dome protecting this part of Olympus Mons had been breached by the invading Praetorian Guard Marines, destroyer warships firing turbolasers and nuclear-tipped torpedoes from orbit. Those whom the Martian atmosphere had not killed, had perished in the wash of nuclear radiation, even as the protective shields had been re-established. The area still had residual traces of radiation harmful to human life, even now.

Enforcer Muller carefully began to mount the steps leading to the entrance door before her. The red dust of Mars shrouded the entire area, blown in from the rock deserts beyond the city limits. Enforcer Deinhart used his cybernetic, augmented mind to command his pulser-rifle to switch on to fully automatic fire.

asked Lance Enforcer Deinhart.

said Muller.

commented Deinhart. In front of him, Muller used a lightwire connection from an implant on her palm to jack into the door’s systems, automatically opening them with a grinding of red dust.

said Muller.

She crossed into the threshold, and following her, Deinhart did the same, moving to the left rapidly and dropping to one knee, weapon ready to fire. The entranceway to the building was deserted.

he said.

They moved through the building, searching in vain for any sign of life. The dust was not disturbed, the cleaning droids deactivated. There was no energy feed to the building, which had made the sudden power drain stand out as unusual, not just because it was so powerful.

Illumination panels in the corridors did not activate as they moved across the metal gantries and grids, not that they needed them with their augmented borg eyes. There was no power to the building now. Abandoned droids littered the floor of the laboratories and offices. It was eerie at one point, the half-light from the dying planetary day’s sun sending a low amber through the metaglass windows.

said Muller.

Deinhart felt it. he said. He accessed a layout plan of the building, showing the first of several huge fabricating halls beyond a clean-room further up a corridor beyond the office section.

ordered Muller, reading the same layout plan on their shared datasphere.

The pair of Enforcers carefully moved onwards, alert for any sign of anything, be it a droid, a drone, a humanist, or a borgite. They saw nothing untoward as they moved into the clean-room, through a form of airlock before they crossed into the first fabricating hall. Delicate augmentations had been manufactured in this giant building, and the fabrication areas had to be clear of all forms of contaminants.

The building mainframe cycling the clean-room airlocks, and the lights went green above the entrance tunnel to the fabricating hall beyond. The door cycled open, the hole at the centre growing wider as it permitted them egress into the corridor beyond.

swore Muller as she saw what lay beyond.

Deinhart saw it through her eyes, using their shared datasphere, gasping. He strode forwards, careful to scan for any sign of life, although he detected none as he stepped onto the exit gantry. He stared over the balcony, looking into the pit of the hall.

The separating walls had been knocked through and removed, linking the halls one after another into one huge space. Going nearly a hundred metres underground, floors had been removed, to create an open area. At the far end of the gigantic cavern, there was a strange structure, which was obviously not intended to be there. It was like nothing either had ever seen before, in the lit mega-hall. Power thrummed throughout this part of the building, holo-projections activated and console graphic displays in working order, to either side of the strange construction at the end of the room.

said Deinhart.

Their datasphere suddenly came under attack, an incredibly potent virus smashing through the firewalls impossibly fast. Another mind broke into their datasphere, and a voice with cruel humour in it said,

Deinhart whirled around, but it was a trick, for the voice had not come from behind. He felt the mental anguish of Muller behind him, and he began to turn back in slow motion. A human cry began to sound out, and his peripheral vision caught something he had only ever seen on holo-vids and news broadcasts.

Emerging from its chameleonic field, light bent around it to protect its presence, a black synth-skinned cybernetic biomorph had been revealed. It had morphed one arm, the hand turning into a spike which it had driven directly through the light Enforcer armour Muller wore. Another hand was coming up to her chest, the muzzle of a weapon sickeningly appearing from the wrist, and it fired at point-blank range into the centre-piece of armour above her heart.

Deinhart’s finger tightened, or at least he sent the thought. When his pulser did not fire its rapid spread of laser beams, he began to frown, even as the blood dripped from his mouth inside his helmet. The stench of burning was filling his nostrils.

His heart was slowing. He looked down, to see his arms had been hacked off, and there was a hole in his armour, his heart liquefied by the heavy-duty blaster shot that had blown through his back. He had been killed by something behind. As he thought it, the blood and awareness drained from his brain, and he died.

The two Faceless agents looked at each other. one of them said on their unit’s datasphere.

All throughout the widened hall, the air shimmered as the workers, agents and guards lowered their chameleonic fields. There were many more of them here in the supposedly abandoned building, working around the device.

said the other Faceless Assassin.

The station commander, a Centurion of the Third Empire, broke into their discussion. it said,

both of the Faceless Assassins said.

The two cybernetic biomorphs removed the helmets of both victims, and then used special implants to quickly absorb the memories of their targets. Even as they did it, they read the DNA of their victims, bodies beginning to morph and change. They assumed different heights, synth-skin turning into armour plating, and after about thirty seconds, Enforcer Muller and Enforcer Deinhart stood where the two Faceless Assassins had been.

said the Centurion, knowing as they all did that as much as they needed to test the construction’s systems, their tapping into the local energy grid would bring this sort of unwanted attention. They had gone back to generator power, but now they knew they could get into the grid when they needed to, and more importantly, the construction worked; or at least, it could achieve the required full power and activation. The assassins were to provide the final piece of cover, for they had to remain undetected on Mars for a while yet.

both assassins replied.

*

Commodore Jason Bramhall exited the turbolift onto the bridge of the Y-class frigate VSS Youngheart, an apt name considering his own relatively young age for the rank that he held. As he received the salutes of the bridge crew he returned them, the duty officer announcing,

he asked, easily striding across the small bridge and taking the captain’s chair off the duty officer, sitting down calmly.

said the Lieutenant,

Commodore Bramhall coughed slightly and relaxed into the chair, asking one of the ex-Praetorian Guard navvies to fetch him a synthesised coffee. As he did so, he also jacked into the datasphere, reading the second shift ship’s reports, and then focusing on their current situation.

Bramhall had gone back to field operations, commanding and leading one of the three contracts the Vindicatus nation of the Mercenary Lord James Gavain were currently engaged upon. Commodore Bramhall, utilising those frigates and corvettes of Eighth Fleet and Fourth Fleet not currently on special operations throughout the colonised galaxy, was prosecuting the contract with the StarCom Federation to disrupt privateers and pirates in the employ of the League of Suularitsaar from raiding across the two nations’ shared borders.

Commodore Bramhall’s four Y-class frigates, captured during the last Shadow War, were currently running silent in the uninhabited EC-1499 System, chameleonic fields engaged to prevent their detection. The deserted system, according to the StarCom Federation’s Central Intelligence Department, was one of many uninhabited systems being used on the League-Federation border for the privateer raiders to sneak across in their stinging attacks. The series of wars between the League and the Federation could re-erupt at any moment, but here in the southern part of the Core, the hostilities were never completely over.

Two days ago there had been an attack on a StarCom system, which had resulted in a military convoy being intercepted and hijacked. The privateers had jumped elsewhere, but analysis of the jump trajectory of the captured convoy ships showed they were heading back to Suularitsaar space. When they crossed the border, there were only three systems they could jump into, and Bramhall had a team waiting in each.

As he sipped at his coffee, he mulled it over. The captured convoy cargo-freighters and tanker were military, ex-Praetorian design, which meant they would be hard for a normal House frigate squadron to assault. His were the advanced, post-Dissolution Praetorian design however, and with the element of surprise he fancied his chances. The only problem is one of his squadrons should have detected the captured convoy by now, and they had not.

It was shame, really, he reflected. Their contract with the StarCom Federation stated that they had salvage rights to all ships taken during the course of the contract, except military ships belong to the Federation. They could loot and claim any League of Suularitsaar military or civilian ships however. At this rate, it did not look as if they would be claiming any salvage rights, as the captured Federation convoy seemed to have disappeared.

the scanners operator announced calmly,

Ah, thought Bramhall, suddenly smiling, putting his near empty cup of coffee into the holder on the arm of his chair. That fit the profile of their targets.

A flash of blinding white light, and a hole was ripped into realspace by the ships translating into the system from hyperspace. As they rapidly decelerated with eye-watering distortion, the impossibly elongated hulls snapped back into the dimensions they would normally display.

Two cargo-freighters led at the front, two tankers behind, then four more cargo-freighters arranged in a square pattern at the rear. They coasted forwards at their gentle realspace speed, untouched for the barest of seconds.

In that first second, Bramhall read the tactical scanner feeds, his cybernetic mind ingesting the displays. This was unexpected; the ships were not ex-Praetorian Guard but of a design commonly used by the League of Suularitsaar, and he realised what had happened. The delay in their arrival was because the League of Suularitsaar had swapped out the cargos onto civilian ships, which only made them easier targets.

Bramhall smiled. he said, directly accessing the datasphere that he had given permission to be established with his frigates,

They would be able to take them all as salvage, he knew, so he wanted as little damage as possible. It was going to be a good day.

announced a mission controller.

said the helmsman.

As the VSS Youngheart accelerated, changing angle so as to bear in on one of the tankers behind, the strikepods roared away from their launch tubes. The strikepods moved fast, the cloud of specially designed assault ships moving faster than even a torpedo as they crossed the small distance to their target.

Clouds of strikepods were erupting through this region of space, as more strikepods were launched from the frigates Yearning, Yawning, and Yardage in the first two seconds of contact. The clouds all focused in on the undefended, unprotected convoy that had translated in. The strikepods fired a complicated series of repulsors and forcefields to slow their rapid approach, magnetic locks and grappling devices latching onto the thick hulls of their targets.

One of the strikepods launched from the Youngheart hit the lead cargo-freighter directly above its bridge, with pinpoint accuracy. As cutting lasers began to burn into the hull plating, the strikepod settled in, locking down tightly onto the protective armour. It created a seal, ensuring there would be no sudden decompression which would throw the strikepod off as the cargo-freighter was breached.

Colonel Tschavirev, commander of Fourth Fleets Marines, led from the front as was the Praetorian Guard way. He dropped down through the hole burned into the hull of the cargo-freighter, his heavily armoured form smashing heavily through the holo-display and console beneath him.

Laser shots left scorch marks on his armour, but he carried a rotary cannon mounted on his left arm, and he swept it around in a rapid arc. The projectiles whipped out with blurring speed, parts of the bridge and the blood and flesh of the small pirate crew erupting in all directions.

More of his Marines dropped down, but Colonel Tschavirev was striding forwards, mag-locking boots clunking on the deck plating, a precaution against failure of the artificial gravity. With his right hand he pointed the over- and under-slung laser barrels at the captain of the ship, who was screaming as she desperately fired a shotgun at him. It was pointless against Marine armour, and Colonel Tschavirev felt no emotion as he sent two blisteringly bright ruby red beams of laser light through the brain-pan of his target.

he announced on the datasphere. He turned to his adjutant, a Sergeant behind him. he said, more reports coming in to him from his teams on the other privateer ships.

Commodore Bramhall said, satisfaction in his voice.

said Tschavirev,

His teams echoed the Mercenary Lord’s hail thought the convoy.

*

Admiral-of-the-Fleets Lucas De Graaf gripped the arms of his flag chair hard as he used the datasphere to read the tactical data being thrown at him. The dreadnought VSS Thor’s Hammer was a huge warship, one of the biggest and best, a T-class ship-of-the-line, and flagship of the Vindicatus Mercenary Corporations First Fleet. Admiral Lucas De Graaf had not only been serving the Mercenary Lord since the beginning, but he was the overall commander of all the many hundreds of naval warships and assets.

said a damage control specialist calmly.

De Graaf commanded,

The House-designed battlecruiser began to lose control, its engines failing as directional thrusters mis-fired and the ship was thrown off-course.

Explosions blossomed all along the Cervantian battlecruiser’s hull, the Vindicatus dreadnought too close to launch torpedoes, but it still delivered missiles tipped with nuclear warheads and electro-magnetic pulse charges. Disruptor emitters sent their near-translucent beams directly into the upper and lower shields, stripping them away, as heavy-duty capital weaponry turbolasers bored thick, bright red, yellow and orange beams directly into the stricken ship. Magnetic Acceleration Cannons hurled projectiles into the rippling port hull of the battlecruiser, the heavy balls and long log-like munitions penetrating into the inner decks. Particle Acceleration Cannons exploited the damage, the sparkling blue-white PAC beams driving even deeper into the warship.

The Thor’s Hammer rolled, turning rapidly in space, the starboard batteries adjusting aim to continue the devastating, blistering hail of fire as the upper hull batteries began to fire. Turrets tracked the target, weaponry powerful enough to destroy cities raining more damage into upper shields. As the battlecruiser listed, exposing its upper shields, they failed with glittering pronouncements of their death.

The Cervantian battlecruiser began to lose power, as its primary engine suddenly detonated. Shields failed everywhere, the T-class Thor’s Hammer continuing to roll quickly, bringing strong shields to bear against the weak return fire from the battlecruiser. The hammering continued, secondary engines failing before the cascade meltdown was averted by the Cervantian engineers. With impending doom, the port broadside opened up, the hail of ferocious fire ripping into the ship.

As power failed the tertiary engine blew, and running lights all along the battlecruiser were extinguished. The listing battlecruiser began to shake and tremble as detonations from deep within began to rip through it, massive sections of bulkhead and decking flying off into space as the House-designed warship began its rapid disintegration.

announced a mission control specialist, satisfaction in her voice.

Admiral De Graaf announced,

Admiral Lucas De Graaf refocused his attention on the strategic holo-maps. he commanded a communications officer,

Lucas De Graaf narrowed his eyes. The situation was unexpected, and would doubtless cause issues for the Vindicatus nation’s relationship with the Cervantians, but ultimately, they were mercenaries and this had been a target system of their employer, House Vanquise.

They had jumped in, ready to begin their assault on what was supposed to be a small un-allied House nation wedged between the expanding territory of House Vanquise and House Cervantes. Several squadrons of First Fleet were tasked with clearing defences, allowing House Vanquise to bring their ground armies safely into the system to launch planetary assaults. Instead, De Graaf had found the El Bonillo System was already in the midst of an invasion, Cervantia having launched across their border into the system to take advantage of the distraction of House Vanquise’s rolling war to expand their territory.

The reaction of the Cervantians had been to fire upon the mercenary ships, which had been a mistake. Despite trying to stop the battle, De Graaf had been left with no option but to fight back. House Cervantes were an ally to Vindicatus in the Coalition of Mutual Defence, but they wanted this rich system for themselves, and the Vindicatus were not here in a national capacity but on a mercenary contract. Imperial Law had always stated that this meant Vindicatus ships were fair game, and although the Red Empire of Mars was dead, De Graaf knew that many nations the colonised galaxy over still observed that collapsing Imperial Law.

Nevertheless, De Graaf imagined Mercenary Lord Gavain would have to speak to the Cervantian Star Lord about the day’s events. House politics was fractious at best, and they did not want any more betrayals in the Coalition in favour of the Third Empire.

said the communications officer.

said Admiral-of-the-Fleets De Graaf.

The Thor’s Hammer dreadnought was leading the Second Main Squadron of First Fleet towards the system’s main planet, the five ships of the squadron engaging both the eight Cervantian House and Praetorian warships, as well as the disintegrating remains of the defending House ships the Cervantians had been hammering. First Vanguard Squadron, including the super-massive juggernaut Zero Tolerance, were engaging the remaining House ships and the Cervantian invaders around the second planet, whilst the Fifth Rearguard Squadron of the battlecruiser VSS Vengeance and its strikecruisers were darting around the third ringed planet and its many moons. The numerically superior Cervantian invaders had been suffering badly, and already had sustained major losses.

The Thor’s Hammer began engaging the destroyer, and a lightcruiser which was vainly trying to interpose itself between the Vindicatus dreadnought and its target. Droid transporters and a droid controlship were breaking orbit, moving away from the planet, abandoning the droids and drones they had dropped barely an hour before at the start of the Cervantian invasion.

In all spheres, De Graaf saw that his half-fleet of ships was prevailing. They had sustained damage, but the Cervantians were beginning to retreat. They should have surrendered the system, he thought. As the first jump signatures were detected of the House Vanquise invasion ships coming in-system, De Graaf ordered two of the strikecruisers to retreat, unwilling to let them suffer too heavily. He did not want to lose a single ship, and they had captured a battlecruiser, and two droid transporters. There would be more before the end of the day.

he sent the general order,

He received a series of affirmatives from his ship captains.

*

Field Marshal Ulrik Andryukhin looked at his adjutant, Major Naomi Calaman, who sat directly opposite him inside the strikepod. The X-class destroyer-transporter VSS Xenogenesis was one of the new, post-Dissolution Order warships, a hybrid multi-purpose ship-of-the-line carrying a full regiment and three battalions of Praetorian Guard Marines. One Marine was worth twenty normal House troops, and Field Marshal Ulrik Andryukhin had all three of his X-class ships in the Karagandy System.

He watched Naomi Calaman with his usual hint of amusement, her face unreadable through the visor of the sealed helmet she wore on her heavy duty Upgraded Praetorian armour.

he said, unable to resist baiting her.