Eternal Frontier (The Eternal Frontier Book 1) Read online

  Eternal Frontier

  (The Eternal Frontier, Book 1)

  Anthony J Melchiorri

  November, 2016

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  Eternal Frontier (The Eternal Frontier, Book 1)

  Copyright © 2016 by Anthony J. Melchiorri. All rights reserved.

  First Edition: November 2016

  http://AnthonyJMelchiorri.com

  Cover Design: Illustration © Tom Edwards, TomEdwardsDesign.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Also by Anthony J Melchiorri

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Purple and green waves of plasma coursed around the hull of the SRES Argo as it exited hyperspace. A long, metallic groan resonated through the ship. Planets loomed into existence out of the darkness of space, and a fiery star greeted the crew, welcoming them to a new solar system. Lieutenant Commander Tag Brewer had joined this exploratory mission with the Solar Republic of Earth’s Navy precisely to witness such a sight. He had spent long nights dreaming of traveling among the stars. The allure of discovering the undiscovered, exploring the wild abandon of the universe, stepping foot on a land that had never borne witness to the human race, and the potential of contacting new life on distant planets evoked a heart-thumping excitement in Tag that could be rivaled by no other experience.

  And he was missing it.

  As the chief medical officer, he bore the responsibility of carrying the ship’s biomedical science mission forward. The urge to fulfill his duty called to him at every waking hour. Now was no exception.

  Tag sat at a lab bench in the medical bay and used two fingers to gesture on a holoscreen. His movements manipulated a remote-controlled microscope behind the protective barrier cordoning off the laboratory. The remote-controlled scope allowed him to monitor his ongoing experiments in real time while reducing the risk of contaminating the cells and tissues growing inside the refrigerator-sized incubators in the next room. So instead of studying the gleaming stars outside the Argo, he was stuck looking at the microscale world contained in tiny plastic dishes.

  He wondered if he would have a chance to study any living cells from the planet they were set to visit. Studying new life...that would make these long hours in the lab worth it. That would make his entire career worth it.

  Tag pushed aside those distracting thoughts and willed himself to focus on the scope’s view. Various numbers marched across the holoscreen to report the current temperature and humidity within the incubators. Another scrolling set of numbers reported the minute voltage fluctuations taking place in a dish full of neural tissue. Tag couldn’t help but grin at the sight. Months of work had gone into achieving those small changes, indicating the tissues might actually be forming a functional neural network—a brain of sorts.

  So far, so good, Tag thought.

  The med bay hatch opened, and Tag almost jumped from his holoscreen in surprise. Curtis Morgan, Tag’s medical assistant, stood at the entrance.

  “You’ve got to check out one of the viewports,” Morgan said. “If you’ll pardon my brashness, I bet it’s a fair bit more interesting than whatever you’re looking at.”

  “Can’t. Too much work to do,” Tag countered.

  “I expected as much from you.” Morgan sauntered over to the holoscreen and leaned on one of the counters. He wore a mock pleading expression. “Dr. Brewer, come join the rest of us. I promise to work double time to make up for whatever you’re missing.”

  Tag sighed and held up his hands in a supplicating gesture. “Fine, fine. I need the break anyway.”

  The duo exited the med bay and walked down the corridor to the mess hall. The benches along the tables were filled with crew members sharing drinks and staring at the massive viewport. It showed a glimpse of what lay outside the ship via the hull-mounted cameras. A glittering display of distant stars shone behind an enormous globe burning with fire and gas.

  A marine standing with her arms crossed nodded a greeting at Tag. “There’s Eta,” Staff Sergeant Kaufman said, gesturing toward the solar system’s sun. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Gods, yes,” Tag said. It had been years since he had seen a star this close. The last time had been Earth’s own sun, shortly after starting this mission. Eta might be a good eight or nine light-minutes away, but he could practically feel the star’s warmth on his flesh and found himself wishing he could step off the ship, if only for a brief spacewalk.

  Another planet inched into existence from the cam’s periphery. Icy white, it shimmered in the display as if a fine mist covered it. Three moons orbited it like circling gulls.

  “And there’s Eta-Five,” Tag said then looked at Kaufman. “I’m jealous. You get to set foot on her. I just sit in the lab and wait patiently for you all to bring me samples.”

  “Jealous? That planet is colder than space. Ice everyw
here. Storms. It’s not exactly going to be a pleasant stroll on the beach.”

  “All the same, you get to step off this rig,” Tag said.

  “I promise I’ll bring you some nice souvenirs to make up for it.”

  “That’d be appreciated.”

  “Maybe some alien blood samples or something.”

  “Even better, bring back the whole alien,” Tag said.

  Kaufman laughed. “We’ll see what we can do.” She guided Tag and Morgan past a couple of awestruck engineers. “How are the experiments going?” She was one of the only crew members aboard the ship that showed interest in Tag’s work, and he enjoyed their conversations on both his work and the scientific theories involved.

  “As good as always,” he replied. As much as he wanted to talk science with her, the sight of the viewport kept all thoughts of microscopes and cellular biology at bay. Morgan had been right. This was a good deal more interesting than the neural cells, and he couldn’t help staring at the beautiful images swirling before them.

  “Here. Saved you both a couple of seats,” Kaufman said. She sat on a bench next to a marine with a Mohawk and another with arms as thick as Tag’s torso. The other half-dozen marines at the table passed around an unmarked bottle, pouring and throwing back drinks.

  The marine with the Mohawk looked Tag and Morgan up and down. “What? You bring us a couple of snacks, Kaufman?”

  “No room for science geeks here,” the other, Williams, said with a derisive scoff. “This table’s reserved for the big boys.”

  “Make room and show some respect.” Kaufman shoved Williams. Tag squeezed in beside her, and Morgan sat across from them. “When we get down on that planet and some alien blows your brain out, these guys will be the ones that put it back in.”

  Williams brushed a hand over his shaved scalp and winked. “Aren’t you growing fresh brains in that lab, Dr. Frankenstein?”

  “He sure is,” Kaufman said before Tag could answer.

  “Though I’m not sure you’d understand how we do it,” Morgan said with a smirk.

  “All I was looking for was a ‘yes,’” Williams said. “I don’t care about all the science mumbo-jumbo.” He downed another glass of whatever he was drinking and leaned closer to Tag. “If I lose mine, why don’t you just grow me a new one? Or better yet, grow me a spare so it’s ready to go when I get back.”

  Kaufman eyed Tag knowingly. “Afraid the doc can’t do that. It takes months to grow a brain, so that’s no dice for you.”

  “Don’t be too hasty,” Tag said. “You’re half right.” Kaufman’s expression dropped. “It takes months to grow a normal-sized artificial brain. But if all I have to replace is one the size of Williams’s, I think I can get that done in a day or two.”

  “That’s cold, Doc. Ice cold.” Williams grinned then poured a drink and passed it to Tag.

  He threw it back. The drink, whatever it was, burned the back of his throat, and he pinched his lips together, refusing to cough in front of the others. It took him a moment to recover as he watched the viewport.

  Something new caught his eye. Not a planet. Not a star. A shadow moved into the outboard cam’s view. The dark silhouette slid over snow-covered Eta-Five like a lurking barracuda.

  “What is that?” Tag said, rising from the table. His pulse quickened.

  Kaufman’s eyes went wide. “Three hells, I thought we were the only ship out here.”

  “We are,” Williams said. He paused for a beat. “Or, we were.”

  Tag’s heart climbed into his throat. The ghostly ship moved to the edge of the cam’s view. For a brief moment, he held his breath. An itching sensation crept into the back of Tag’s mind. The ship loomed larger, closer, then disappeared under the cam’s view.

  This isn’t right.

  “How did we miss something like that?” Morgan asked.

  His question remained unanswered. A huge clanging sound reverberated through the mess, and the Argo shook.

  “All hands to battle stations,” Captain Weber’s voice boomed. “I repeat, all hands to battle stations.”

  Kaufman and the other marines shot from their seats and rushed to the exit. A tide of people flooded between the tables and spilled into the corridors. Startled voices called all around Tag. He looked for Morgan, but the man was already gone.

  A distant explosion echoed through the Argo. The outboard cams went dark, and the viewport crackled then went blank. The ship jolted as if the engines had kicked in again, and it started forward. But the acceleration was short lived. A deafening bang sounded somewhere on another deck, and more yells sounded out. Tag pushed through the other crew members and made his way out of the mess.

  Metal screeched, echoing in the passageway, accompanied by the unyielding wail of klaxons. Malicious red lights spun over the faces of men and women, their expressions wrought with a mixture of panic and gritty determination. Their voices cried out, creating an incomprehensible cacophony in concert with the thunder of heavy footfalls as they dashed to their battle stations, churning around Tag. He needed to get to the medical bay, but he prayed the crew wouldn’t need him there.

  They’ll be fine, he thought as he spotted a contingency of marines donning full power armor rushing through the corridor. But a sinking feeling in his gut told him he was wrong.

  Very wrong.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tag slammed against the bulkhead, knocked off his feet by a tremor resonating through the ship with a growling roar. Pain coursed through his head where his skull had impacted the shining alloy, and his hand instinctively shot to the site of the injury. He could already feel the knot of bruised tissue that would push up against his skin. But his concern over the contusion gave way to a new threat.

  A robotic voice droned through the ship’s comms, “Unauthorized boarding. Unauthorized boarding.” While hell erupted all around him in the SRES Argo, Tag recovered and sprinted for the medical bay on instinct, his mind racing as fast as his feet could carry him.

  “What the hell’s going on now?” Tag yelled out, but he received no answers.

  There weren’t supposed to be any other vessels in this sector of space. No known spacefaring species and no human ships. Yet the warning continued: “Unauthorized boarding.” Whatever—or whoever—was in that mysterious ship had taken them unaware and unprepared.

  The Argo shook more violently than before. Tag fell again and crashed into a nearby engineer wearing a grease-stained coverall. His jaw cracked against the engineer’s shoulder, and his teeth bit down hard on his tongue. The taste of blood flooded his mouth, and his vision blurred. He grabbed a stanchion to brace himself. With fresh pain rattling his skull, he stood on shaky legs then sprinted down the passage. People thronged past him as he pushed forward, ignoring the flashing lights and screaming alarms.

  A new noise pierced the din. An unhealthy grinding sound bellowed through the wide hatch at the end of the corridor. Tag winced, holding his hands up to shield his face, then willed his thumping heart to settle. A dangerous curiosity tugged at him, urging him to peer through the hatch. The open hatch led to the expansive cargo bay, and Tag guessed that was where he’d find the purported unauthorized boarders forcing their way onto the ship. As if to confirm his suspicions, a squad of marines rushed through, clad in gleaming power armor suits and bristling with weapons. The hatch slammed shut behind them. More men and women flowed down the passageway, and Tag was swept up in the current. The crowd started to disperse as the medical bay hatch appeared in the bulkhead to his right. A marine shouldered past him as he made it to the hatch and opened it.

  “Dr. Brewer, I’m back here!” The gruff voice of Morgan cut through the chaos. What in the three hells is he doing in the patient regen chamber? The cylindrical chamber’s blue glass doors slid open, revealing a host of tubes and straps to hold patients in. Morgan stepped out before Tag could vocalize his concern.

  “Just resetting the biosensors,” Morgan offered.

  “Good. Let’s get ’
em all prepped!” Tag said.

  He and Morgan rushed to the other chambers. The regen chambers were designed for life-threatening injuries, internal bleeding, missing limbs, and other horrible maladies. Tag primed the pumps that would deliver painkillers, nanofiber mesh bandages, and engineered cells designed to supercharge the healing response in a patient’s body. They’d only had to use them once when a mechanic on a spacewalk neglected to engage the safety on his hull drill. The man had lost a fist-sized chunk from his calf, but a week of regen chamber treatments had restored the destroyed muscle and tendons. Tag feared the chambers were about to see a great deal more use.

  “What is going on out there?” Tag shouted over the grating sounds bouncing in from the passageway.

  “I don’t have a goddamned clue,” Morgan yelled over the alarms. “Must be pirates or something!”

  “This far out?” Tag replied, nonplussed.

  “Hey, I didn’t exactly have time to stop someone and ask!”

  Tag primed the last regen chamber and strode to the middle of the bay.

  “Set up triage stations,” he ordered.

  “You got it.” Morgan was already digging through a cabinet full of supplies. With a stack of polymer-infused bandages, tourniquets, and other goods in his arms, he spun and dumped everything on a table bolted onto the deck. Then he nodded to another set of crash couches with built-in IV chambers for patients.

  “If anyone—” The ship’s violent shaking interrupted Morgan.

  The sudden motion threw him against Tag, and they both tumbled across the deck. Boxes clattered off the table, and rolls of gauze bounced away. Tag winced as he heard the sound of shattering glass behind him. He twisted to find its source. In the adjoining laboratory, beakers and graduated cylinders fell from the busted-open drawer of a lab bench and broke against the deck, flinging crystalline shards everywhere. A cell incubator door flopped open, threatening to spill its cargo of live, experimental artificial organs and cells. The chaos exploding around him drained away as a burgeoning sense of dread overtook him. The contents of that incubator represented the culmination of a decade and a half of research. Not that it couldn’t be replaced with more hard work, but the synthetic brain resting in there alone had taken him almost two years to fabricate and even longer to design.