The Suns' Own Tomorrow

Planetary Orbit

Table of Contents

Planetary Orbit

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Author’s notes

Other Novels by Rabb

Chapter 1

May 14, 2452

From a great distance, the Carina star is only one of many specs of stardust in this part of the galaxy. Moving closer, the star grows in size and intensity revealing the great banded gas giants that orbit around it.

Closer still and the star fills the black expanse of space with a white glow. Its inner planets becoming clearer, exposing rocky, lifeless spheres—except for one. A sparkling, blue marble floats in its orbit, the sun’s light reflecting from its rippling blue waters and green forests. This is Carina Three, the third planet orbiting the Carina star.

Sunrise on Carina Three reveals a silhouette of the Alliance’s Seventh Fleet. Thirteen black angular ships in battle formation, each arrayed around a rotating, white torus—or wheel— in space.

Orbiting nearby the space station was the stark, black bulk of the battleship Essex. A warship, bristling with field emitters and ray cannon, she was the admiral’s flag ship. Her black skin absorbed every ounce of light making her menacing appearance barely visible against the black of space.

Approaching the Essex was a small white craft. It slowed, steadily maneuvering to align itself with its target. A man with graying, black hair and hard blue eyes watched as they made their final approach to his ship.

Admiral Tom Douglas stood nearly 6’- 4" with a square jaw and military posture. His uniform was worn precisely according to regulations, as was everything else from his shoes to the rank insignia on his collar. He had a kind and competent bearing, and was generally soft-spoken. He carried himself with confidence, shoulders pulled back and head erect.

Tom knew every niche and corner of the Essex. He knew her strengths and weaknesses as he knew his own. The Essex had been built to his specifications and under his guidance. Years of exploration had made him an expert and he had made sure that the ship lacked nothing.

The Essex was nearly a mile long and she was surrounded by a host of smaller craft, like bees swarming around the hive. Across both sides was the word ‘ESSEX’ in grey, some 50 feet tall along with the abbreviation ‘BB – 63’.

His eyes moved across her coarse exterior from her armor plated bridge, to a slotted launch bay, and on to her laser emitters. She virtually bristled with every known weapon, and she was his. His dreadnought, which was her class of ship. It was a name he’d resurrected from history when battleships roamed the oceans of Earth.

As the center portion of the Essex rotated, simulating gravity for its occupants, the shuttle maneuvered to match its speed and angular velocity. It slowly aligned with the Essex’s airlock.

Tom floated gently above his seat, and as the shuttle began to follow the ship’s rotation, he felt himself pressed back down as the centrifugal force was applied.

The shuttle made contact and locked onto the Essex. There was a hiss as air volumes were equalized. Tom released himself and stood up, then climbed down to the airlock hatch and entered the Essex.

Attention on deck! A line of four officers and six enlisted men stood at attention. The Admiral is on the ship! said the officer on duty, and the detail saluted.

Tom returned their salutes.

Sir. Yet another salute from a stocky officer with bushy white eyebrows and piercing green eyes. Captain Freeman Monroe was Tom’s right hand and a good friend. Though his hair was prematurely gray, his broad shoulders and trim waist boasted of a fit and powerful body. Commander of the Essex, he was the most senior officer in the fleet, after Tom, and had the admiral’s complete trust and confidence.

Captain, Tom returned the salute, You old buzzard.

Freeman Monroe reached for the admiral’s hand, glad to see him after all this time. Tom, everything has been arranged. Meg and Drew are on Carina Three. Their ship arrived from Earth this morning. They said they’d check in at the officers’ apartments and meet you at the terminal when you’re ready. Freeman paused and motioned for Tom to proceed toward the exit hatch.

They reached the Essex’s massive bridge. It extended the full width of the ship. A slotted window reached from side to side, complete with thick radiation resistant glass and battle shutters. Mounted just below the window slots were flat view screens that displayed an image of the ships surroundings in all directions.

Tom pulled himself up into the battle bridge command chair and fastened the restraint belt. He looked at the complement of Navy personnel at their stations from left to right across the bridge.

The ship was designed to operate, or fight, even with loss of power and heavy damage. The battle bridge would protect the commander, even if much of the remaining bridge was destroyed.

He took a moment to survey his domain, gently smiling to himself as he marveled at his trained and efficient crew.

Tom slowly came to the realization that this mission was the culmination of decades of research and development. The search for an earth-like planet—a new home for mankind.

Monroe broke his concentration as he pulled himself into the chair to Tom’s right, Penny for your thoughts.

Tom smiled, Just reminiscing.

Feel like you’re back home, sir?

Pretty much, Tom said. But not for long.

Monroe replied, Why don’t you go on down to the planet, sir? I can conduct this drill.

Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the family, you know. He glanced at Freeman, I just needed to pick up a few things first.

Yes, sir, Monroe replied, big plans?

Dinner party at that new restaurant, he winked.

You mean the Marine mess hall?

We’re all pretending. A Navy family usually has too rough it, but I hear the Marine mess hall puts out fancy tablecloths, china and crystal on Saturday nights.

Call it what you want, sir.

Meg and Drew are already down there, then? Checked into the family Pavilion?

Monroe replied, Yes, sir, and you should get going, Meg’s expecting you. Wouldn’t want to bear the brunt of her anger if I don’t get you on your way. She was quite clear on that!

He continued, You know, with this busy Navy life and all the distances, I never understood how you and Meg ever found the time to raise those two kids. Monroe shook his head, Quite the phenomenon, your family! Anyway, Lieutenant Vincent is meeting you both for dinner and your son, Brad, is still trying to get his leave approved.

Tom nodded, I told Brad to BE at this reunion! Sounds like he waited until the last minute…again.

Monroe shook his head slowly, Brad’s a good officer. He just gets a little…too interested in Lieutenant Vincent at times.

What’s he done now? Tom asked.

He was discovered in her quarters, again, but he took full responsibility for the incident.

He knows the rules against that! Tom replied. Did Vincent get a reprimand?

Yes, sir, she did and has already worked off her punishment.

But Brad has not.

That would be correct, Monroe replied.

What was Brad’s punishment?

He’d to run diagnostics on each of twenty fighter craft and enter their logs and documentation. This had to be done independent of the Essex’s computer systems and he had to sign off on his responsibility for the tests.

A lot of work, Tom replied, but he’d better be there or his mother will have his hide.

Monroe just winked.

Tom met the eyes of his old friend, knowingly, Thanks, Freeman, I don’t know when my family will ever be together again. We seem to be from one end of the galaxy to the other.

Nothing is going to spoil the reunion this time, Tom. I’ll take care of things here on the Essex.

Chapter 2

Carina Three raced around its sun in a slightly off center elliptical orbit at about 60,000 miles an hour. It was now approaching the aphelion of its path and as the gravitational forces of the sun forced it to turn, a ripple formed in space/time. The ripple grew larger and more intense, until an invisible wormhole was produced.

Black faceted, diamond shapes began to appear. Viewed with the sun as a backdrop, they were no more than silhouettes emerging from the wormhole. They streamed into the Carina solar system about five minutes apart.

The ships were nearly invisible, reflecting only the black of space from their mirrored surfaces. One by one, they emerged until there were twenty-four of them in a line moving across space at the Carina Three Lagrange point L1.

There were no radio waves emitted. No heat signatures. No electromagnetic waves generated. They were first and foremost, stealthy and quiet—listening, watching, exploring. Their passive, long-range sensors examining every planet, asteroid and moon in this new solar system.

Their mission was to look for signs of other civilizations, other occupants of this solar system that might prevent their colonization. They listened on all frequencies of the spectrum, for most civilizations generated some kind of radio wave. They found only a minor source on the third planet of the system. They couldn’t make sense of the gibberish they received, however, it was clear to them that the source was insignificant. A minor inconvenience in their plans.

They focused on the source. They mapped each ship orbiting the planet and discovered intricate details of the Seventh fleet. Then, their focus changed to the planet itself and to what seemed to be a small colony on the surface.

Twenty-four ships with mighty armaments against thirteen ships and a small colony—surely, not a force capable of resisting them. Whatever the source’s technology might be, it couldn’t possibly be as sophisticated as theirs, they reasoned. After all, they’d conquered many races, and a surprise attack in overwhelming force had always eliminated any problem they encountered.

They rapidly developed a battle plan and moved their ships into orbital position. Each mirror faceted ship, nearly half a mile in diameter, moved quietly through space. Their fleet readied itself and waited for the order to commence the attack.

Chapter 3

In the bow of the Essex, the hanger bay’s huge door reached across the full width of the ship and separated the bay from space. The bay’s doors were normally closed to hold atmosphere. However, rules clearly stated that all personnel working in the hangar area were required to wear skin-tight decompression suits in the event the hangar lost atmospheric pressure.

Eighty fighters were secured to the painted white floors and attended by mechanics and avionics specialists in bright orange coveralls, complete with emergency tethers and air packs.

The wings of the fighter merged into its body creating a smooth, flattened shape resembling a stingray. This became the nickname for the nimble fleet.

Colorful squadron banners, tied to the ceiling, separated them into four rows of twenty with a broad operational space down the middle of the bay. The fighter’s canopies were connected to flexible air chambers that extended to the bulkhead and airlock enabling the pilots to enter and exit their ships even when the bay was in vacuum mode.

Lieutenant Commander Brad Douglas’ tall, muscular frame was lying uncomfortably in the cockpit of one of those fighters. His military cropped, black hair framed a strong, noble face, with blue eyes like his fathers.

The cockpit was designed so that the pilot laid on his stomach to minimize the effects of G-forces on the body during high speed maneuvers. Brad’s body was strapped in place while he checked on the arrays and touch pads displayed around his head and shoulders.

Brad reached down and disconnected his straps, Computer, power down and remain on standby.

Affirmative, the system responded.

Brad popped open the entry hatch. He slowly pulled himself up and through the opening, emerging at the top of the fighter. His long frame, too large for the confined space. As he floated up, his head and shoulders protruded above the black skin of the fighter.

Brad lifted his feet out of the hatch and pulled himself up, floating above the platform. The fighter stretched out beneath him, smooth and black, with implied lethality.

Floating nearby, partially hidden by the wing, was the ship’s flight mechanic, Jimmy Conrad, a lanky young man with puppy dog eyes. Diagnostics in the remote check out, Brad, he called, all 188 checkpoints. He squinted as he looked up into the bay lighting and pushed toward Brad,

They met face to face as he pulled around from the platform railing and removed his outer gloves. Yah know, when you get punished, I get punished.

And all is right with the world, Brad grinned. He’d inherited his mother’s smirk, and his ego was showing proudly.

You’re lucky you didn’t get stuck on this bucket all night, Jimmy quipped.

Connections!

Right! You need to start thinking with the proper head or you’re going to find yourself floating in space!

Floating in space…floating in space. Why is it always that? What’s wrong with disemboweled or torn limb from limb? How about blown up or decapitated? Brad put his arm around the mechanics shoulders as they shoved off the ship and floated across the hangar bay.

Let’s see, said Brad, complete diagnostic regimen.

Done, stated Jimmy.

Structural and propulsion systems?

Check, Jimmy agreed.

Weapons and computers.

Done.

And so forth. You know, my dad will kick my ass if I don’t get down to Carina Three tonight.

A little pain…yeah, that might be good for you, Jimmy answered.

Seriously? Brad acted hurt and indignant. Then, with a crooked grin, Just sign off on the damn log so I can get off this tub and visit my family!"

And, Jessica? Jimmy grabbed the log and signed his name.

Jessica, who? Brad asked innocently.

Right! Jimmy replied with a grin and shoved the log back into Brad’s hand.

About now she should be lying on the beach, sunning in her microscopic bikini, that is, if she hasn’t decided to shed ALL her clothes.

They allow that on Carina Three?

Oh, yeah! Brad grinned, nodding his head. Then, raising one eyebrow he added, And the fleet is in...

Chapter 4

Jessica lay face down on her beach towel with her bikini wadded up beside her. Every curve, crease, and cleavage was heavily oiled and already beginning to tan. Her thick blond hair was in a single braid, pulled around to one side. Her face was handsome, not pretty, and she was no delicate flower. She was a big girl with muscular legs and broad hips that curved into a small waist. Her skin was fair with almost invisible fine, blonde fuzz. She lay with her arms under her head.

Beside her, Jude Harrison lay on his side with his head propped up on his arm. He was a skinny kid with dark hair and olive skin. His features, sharp, with dark brown eyes and thick mustache. He followed every curve of Jessica’s body from ankle to knee to cheek.

Why don’t you take those things off? Jessica squinted, looking at Jude’s floral swim trunks.

Women are the exhibitionists, not men, he answered.

Another stereotype, she sighed. Women are this way, women are that way.

Women are beautiful! he said.

She smiled, You act like you’ve never seen one before.

Not many like this! His eyes moved along her body.

You’re supposed to look at my face when you talk, Jude.

Just admiring the scenery. I can’t get used to this! One minute you’re my squadron leader, the next you’re this gorgeous, naked lady lying in the sun! So just cut me some slack, okay?

Jessica rolled slightly to her right and pulled her left leg up. She lifted herself to her elbows so that her ample breasts hung heavily under her. You like this? she whispered.

Shit! Jude rolled over and hopped to his feet. Shit! He kicked the sand and walked away across the beach. Then he turned, Drew asked me to come to the party tonight, will you be there too?

If Brad gets his leave, she