The Contingency Read online

  THE

  CONTINGENCY

  PART ONE OF THE CONTINGENCY WAR SERIES

  G J OGDEN

  Copyright © 2019 G J Ogden

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Ogden Media Ltd

  Cover design by germancreative

  Editing by S L Ogden

  www.ogdenmedia.net

  The Contingency War Series

  No-one comes in peace. Every being in the galaxy wants something, and is willing to take it by force…

  READ THE OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES:

  - The Contingency

  - The Way Station Gambit

  - Rise of Nimrod Fleet

  - Earth's Last War

  AckNowledgements

  Thanks to Sarah for her work assessing and editing this novel, and to those who subscribed to my newsletters and provided such valuable feedback.

  And thanks, as always, to anyone who is reading this. It means a lot. If you enjoyed it, please help by leaving a review on Amazon and Goodreads to let other potential readers know what you think!

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  ONE

  Casey Valera swiveled her pilot’s chair towards Blake Meade, who had been asleep at his tactical console for fifteen minutes. Watching carefully for any signs of stirring she soundlessly slid the sequined purple sneaker off her right foot. She had waited just long enough for the ship’s Tactical Specialist to drift off into a deep and comfortable sleep; any sooner and he would have been too easily roused from his regulation-breaking on-duty slumber.

  Casey slid down in her chair to achieve some additional reach and lifted up her long leg, pointing her foot like a ballerina. Extending her leg towards Blake, she stretched out her yellow-varnished toes so that they just reached underneath his nose, which wrinkled as her toe hovered over his top lip. She stifled a laugh and flexed her toes, maintaining a laser-precise distance from Blake’s wiry black nose hairs as he snuffled and began to stir, forcing Casey to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. She withdrew her foot an inch further from his face and waited for Blake to drop off fully again, before she pounced, pressing her big toe up against his nostrils, blocking them off completely. The operation was performed with the sort of dancer-like elegance that typified every movement Casey made. Her natural grace and style was one reason why she was perfect for the role of piloting a deep-space recon ship. Unable to breathe, Blake coughed and spluttered and woke suddenly, gasping for breath. His head turned on a swivel and his guard was raised as if he was expecting a fight, despite there being only four people on the entire ship, which was thousands of light years from Earth.

  “What the hell?!” he shouted, rubbing his nose. “Casey, was that you again?”

  Casey had swiftly returned to her normal sitting position during the confusion of Blake’s rude awakening. She had swiveled her chair back to face the main viewport again, and was pretending to innocently survey her instruments when Blake leveled the accusation at her.

  “Was what me?” she asked, shooting Blake a well-rehearsed feigned look of shocked surprise. Then her eyes narrowed, and she threw an accusation of her own right back at him, “Blakey... have you been sleeping on duty again?”

  Blake Meade ruffled his short-cropped brown hair and then rubbed his eyes. “Cut out the act, Casey, I know it was you. That better not have been your stinkin’ foot again.”

  Casey snorted a laugh, but then attempted to disguise it as a cough, which would have fooled no-one, especially not the naturally observant TacSpec crew member.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” said Casey, now switching to her ‘affronted’ act. “You should be more worried about the Cap finding you snoozing on the job, and spend less time focusing on my toes.”

  Blake glanced down and saw that one of Casey’s non-regulation sequined purple sneakers was resting by the side of her bare right foot, while the other was still worn. His lips curled into a smile. Gotcha, bang to rights... he thought.

  “It’s funny you should mention your toes, ‘cause I’m damn sure the Cap don’t allow snot-yellow toe-nails. Oh, and by the way, you’re missin’ one of those ugly purple sneakers.”

  Casey kept her eyes focused on the panels in front of her, but searched around with her foot, eventually finding the errant sneaker and slipping it back on.

  “The Cap likes my toenails, I’ll have you know.”

  Blake laughed. “No he don’t. That cheerless bastard only likes two things – the mission, and staring at Satomi’s ass.”

  Casey laughed and smiled at him, and Blake returned the smile with equal warmth. Casey was about the only thing that had made the near four years of their mission tolerable for him. And despite her annoying tendency to prank him, if it hadn’t been for her joyous laugh filling their small air-filled tub in the middle of the nothingness, he’d probably have gone mad. Her laugh was blissful, like having your brain massaged with soundwaves.

  “Don’t knock it, can you imagine how grumpy he’d be out here without her to distract his attention away from duty, duty, duty?”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” yawned Blake. “That’s prob’ly why she’s here in the first place. Y’know, all that personality-matching mumbo jumbo they make us go through is only so we don’t end up killin’ each other before the four years is up.”

  Casey beamed at him and made a heart symbol with her hands. “Aww, that must mean we were always destined to be bosom pals then?”

  “Not if you keep stickin’ your stinkin’ toes up my nose!”

  They both burst into giggles and Blake drank in the sound of her laughter again. Wiping a mirth-induced tear from his eye, Blake added, “Where are those two anyhow? Still in the lab, findin’ us another pointless corner of the galaxy to search?”

  Casey shot him a reproaching look. “Come on Blakey, we only have two more weeks to go and then we’re done. Besides, I like it out here.”

  Blake shook his head. “You must be the only pilot in all of Earth Fleet that actually likes flying deep space recon missions.”

  Casey raised her legs and rested them gracefully on the top of the pilot’s console. The purple sequins on her sneakers glistened, reflecting the many glowing screens, dials and indicators that adorned her station. “Of course I do, what’s not to love? It’s peaceful out here. There’s a beauty to it, know what I mean?”

  Blake grunted. “No. There ain’t no beauty out here, just a whole lotta nothin’. We’ve been to over thirty systems and it’s the same every time; nothin’, nothin’, and more damn nothin’.”

  “Then why did you volunteer, Mr. Grumpy?”

  Blake cocked an eyebrow at the quirky young pilot. “The pay, of course, dummy, same as every other sane and normal person.” He yawned again and rested his hands behind his head, while relaxing back in his chair. “I get ten years’ worth of regular TacSpec pay for just four years spent driftin’ around in the ass-end of the galaxy, searchin’ for ghosts.”

/>   “They could still be out here, you know.”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do,” said Blake, with a dismissive waft of his hand. “Believe me, I’d welcome nothin’ more than an opportunity to take out the last dregs of the Hedalt Empire. But the fact is the fleet mopped up all the outposts within a few years of nuking their home world. Those that fled didn’t get far, either. The ugly bastards aren’t suited for space travel, not like us.”

  When Casey remained silent, Blake glanced across and saw that, for the first time since she had woken him up by shoving a toe up his nose, her normally joyous, vibrant glow was missing. He studied her face, noting that her freckle-covered cheeks were no longer raised up, so that even her eyes weren’t smiling. Blake had spent enough time with Casey Valera over the last four years to know the cause of her sudden melancholy.

  “Hey, it was us or them, Casey, and they started it,” said Blake balling his hands together in his lap and sitting more upright. “We did what we had to do to survive. There ain’t nothin’ more to it than that.”

  Casey stared blankly out through the viewport and into the void of space. “I know, Blake, it’s just sad that’s all. I know they invaded our system, and I know they killed billions, but still...” she hesitated.

  “Still what?”

  “Extermination just seems a little extreme...”

  Blake laughed, and Casey shot him a dirty look. “Don’t laugh at me, you brute. We’re not all cold-hearted beasts like you!”

  “You do realize that extermination is why we’re out here, Casey? We’re not out here scourin’ the galaxy for any remaining Hedalt outposts just so we can rock up and say, ‘Hey! Sorry we nuked your planet and wiped out your species!’ and invite them out for a beer to make up for it.”

  “I don’t want to nuke them or have a beer with them; I’m just out here because I like flying,” said Casey, with some of the vibrancy returning to her cheeks.

  “Yeah, well don’t you worry ‘bout it, Casey, they’re long dead, like I said,” Blake replied, relaxing again now that Casey seemed to be returning to her usual self. “And I ain’t gonna shed a tear if we do find a colony and have to turn it to rubble. They did the same to us; they’d do it again, given half a chance. It’s just nature, is all. Survival of the strongest.”

  “You TacSpecs are all the same; animals. I should put a collar on you.”

  Blake smirked and winked at Casey. “That’s not really my kind of scene, but thanks for the offer, all the same.”

  Casey shook her head, trying her hardest to look deeply disappointed in him, but she was unable to hide a thin smile. “I don’t know how I ever got matched with you.”

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  The door to the bridge slid open and Captain Taylor Ray walked in, followed shortly by the ship’s Technical Specialist, Satomi Rose.

  “Unless you plan on flying this ship with your feet,” Taylor began, with a sort of affable sternness, “can you please take them off the console, Casey.”

  Casey tilted her head backwards and smiled at Taylor, looking at him upside down. “I graduated top of my academy class in foot flying, Cap.”

  Taylor rolled his eyes and continued onto the bridge, stopping in the center of the deck, as Casey swiveled her chair around to face him, whipping her legs off the console with the same grace with which she’d placed them there earlier. Taylor noticed the sparkling purple sneakers twinkling under the harsh lights of the bridge and shook his head again. “I guess I should be grateful that you’re wearing shoes at all…”

  “They’re sneakers Cap, and I knew you’d like them!” said Casey, beaming at him.

  Blake also spun his chair around to face his fellow crew members, and got straight to the point. “We got a new destination yet, Cap? Casey over here is on the verge of falling asleep.” Casey glowered at him, but he pretended not to notice.

  “That’s actually what I’m here to tell you,” said Taylor, “and I’m sorry, the answer is no, not yet. We’re still awaiting some updated information from the CoreNet, before we can make a final decision.”

  Satomi now spoke up. “The problem is that we’ve travelled so far from the closest super-luminal transceiver that it’s taking a while for the data to work its way through the Fabric.”

  ‘The Fabric’ was the more colloquial term for the sub-layer of space accessed by a vast network of nodes that stretched out across the galaxy. Earth Fleet believed them to have been built by the Hedalt, countless thousands of years ago. Each node, or ‘super-luminal transceiver’ to give them their official designation, was connected to the others through engineered wormholes called threads. Together, it created a patchwork quilt of connected super-luminal transceivers that spanned most of the known galaxy, hence the name, the Fabric. The Fabric also acted as a super-highway for faster-than-light navigation. It made it possible to jump extremely long distances from node to node, like express lines between railway stations. The alternative was to spend hours or sometimes days computing blind jumps, which had a far more limited range.

  The reactions of Casey and Blake to Taylor’s news were polar opposites of each other. Casey continued to beam back at the Captain, happy for the delay, because it meant more hours floating serenely in the expanse of space. Meanwhile, Blake’s shoulders slumped and his head dropped low, knowing it would likely be at least another day or two before anything remotely interesting happened on the ship.

  “The Captain and I have been hard at work crunching the numbers,” continued Satomi, while walking briskly over to her mission operations console on the left of the bridge. Taylor followed her and while his back was turned, Blake smirked and tapped a quick private message to Casey using the communication system built into the arm of his chair. ‘Hard at work crunching each other, more like...’

  He looked over to Casey, eagerly anticipating her reaction, and watched as she read the message, following the line of her mouth as it curled upward. She glanced back at him, eyebrows raised, and mouthed the words, “That doesn’t even make sense...” But, Casey had expected nothing less, and perversely this was why she’d found it amusing. From the countless whispered words and private messages Blake had sent over the course of four years in deep space, one thing she had learned with absolute certainly was that Blake was terrible at innuendo.

  “Our current location puts us several parsecs beyond the furthest deep space recon vessel ever to visit this part of the Fabric,” Satomi went on, oblivious to the antics behind her. “But I believe there are some good prospects within our safe blind jump range. I’m just waiting for the computer to process the final data so that we can select the ideal system.” She tapped away at the console, confirming some final numbers, before turning back to face the others. “We only have time for one more jump, before heading home, so I want to make it a good one.”

  Taylor turned around and fixed his gaze directly at Blake. “And no, before you ask, Tactical Specialist Meade, we’re not just going to sit out here and watch the clock run down. We have a mission to perform.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Cap!” said Blake, lying. “I just hope we see some action before I get to lounge on my fat ass back home and drink away my not inconsiderable bounty.”

  “That’s the spirit, Blake!” said Taylor, with enthusiasm, but then he decided he needed to clarify his statement. “I mean about seeing some action, not drinking away all your pay.”

  “The way he drinks, he’ll be broke again in less than a month,” said Casey, then she smiled at Blake and added, “then he’ll be back out here with me again, won’t you Blakey?”

  Blake laughed. “I’d rather work on the garbage scows. Dumpin’ trash into the sun is more appealin’ than havin’ your toes stuck up my nose.”

  Taylor considered asking Blake to clarify exactly what he meant by that statement, but then thought better of it. Blake and Casey often spoke a language that only they understood.

  Satomi shut her eyes and massaged the back o
f her neck. She could tolerate the back-and-forth between Blake and Casey for short bursts, and even enjoyed it and joined in on occasions, but she was tired and not currently in the mood for their silliness. “I suggest we all turn in for the night; it will be at least another five hours before the computer has finished processing.” Then she turned to Taylor and added, apologetically, “With your approval, of course, Captain.”

  “Good idea, Satomi; I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m beat.”

  Blake glanced over to Casey and waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. Casey just mouthed back the words, “That also doesn’t make any sense...”

  Remarkably neither Taylor nor Satomi appeared to spot the exchange.

  “Let’s reconvene on the bridge at zero six hundred,” continued Taylor. “Casey, please rig the ship for automatic.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain Taylor Ray,” chirped Casey, breezily. She always used his full rank and title when responding to a direct order; it was another quirk about her that Blake loved.

  Taylor swept off the bridge, followed a few seconds behind by Satomi, who called out, “See you guys in the morning...” before heading through the door, without waiting for a reply.

  Casey sprang into action, turning the mundane and highly procedural task of adjusting dials and flipping switches to configure the ship for automatic running while they slept into an almost hypnotically expressive form of performance art.

  Blake stood up and stretched, which caused him to inadvertently break wind. “Oops, sorry ‘bout that...” he said, though his amused expression suggested his apology was far from genuine.

  “I take it back, you’re worse than an animal!” cried Casey. “Go on, get off my bridge.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Aren’t you comin’?”

  “Not yet.”

  Blake smiled. Casey often sat on the bridge alone after the others had retired, sometimes for hours, and she was always the last to go to sleep. For someone who loved being with people – and who was so easy to get along with – her frequent desire for solitude was one of the many little idiosyncrasies that made her so special, at least to Blake.