Prologue:
Aboard the UNS Trygve Lie
Wormhole corridor en route to alpha Centauri-a system
Tuesday, 12 November 2097
A wormhole is a hell of a place to die.
As weapons discharged all around, super-dense bullets and vicious searing plasma blasts gouging away at the precious inches of steel separating them all from the airless void—and from gruesome death by decompression—US Navy Captain Jack Corrigan reflected that, in hindsight, deepest interstellar space probably had not been the wisest choice of locales in which to start a mutiny.
But start it he had. There had simply been no other way. And now it was win or die.
The sounds of gunfire and shouting reverberated from every surface as the Marines under his command continued to press the attack, trying to push back the ship’s crew and break onto the command deck. Though he maintained a stoic demeanor on the surface, inside he felt equal measures of pride and pain in watching these elite forces at work; pride in their skill and efficiency, and pain from the atrocious losses they were suffering. A number of Marines lay dead or dying already, and precious little ground had been gained for it.
The firefight had been raging for nearly twenty minutes when the collateral damage being dealt to the spacecraft seemed to Corrigan’s senses to be nearing a critical mass; an inflection point, beyond which neither side of the conflict could win and both sides would die together. Pipes ruptured, blasting jets of steam out into the corridors. Wiring exploded in showers of sparks and flame. One compartment decompressed, its airlock tearing loose from its hinges and hurling itself and the room’s inhabitants into the airless depths of the wormhole. The crewmembers’ screams were cut short in an instant as the last of the air was ripped from their lungs. Their bodies tumbled in the ship’s wake through a formless, nightmare void. Would their lifeless bodies ever re-enter normal space—and if so, where? Or would they simply fall through this bizarre, unnatural realm for the rest of eternity? No one knew, for no one lost in a wormhole had ever been seen again.
Corrigan gritted his teeth, unsure which worried him more—the fearsome weapons blasts, the hellish void outside, or the terrifyingly fragile nuclear fusion engine housed a mere few hundred meters away, at the opposite end of the UNS Trygve Lie. The fusion drive operated by heating hydrogen isotopes to six hundred million Kelvin and containing the resulting plasma within precisely tuned magnetic fields. Part of his mind rebelled at the very thought of such a machine; nature was being placed under enormous and entirely artificial stress in order to serve the needs and wishes of Man. It all seemed horrifically dangerous enough on its own, when everything around it was going smoothly. He could scarcely imagine the looks on the faces of the engineers back on Earth if they knew a full-scale shooting war had broken out so close to their delicate, deadly creation.
A war, Corrigan thought bitterly, turning the small but potent word over and over in his mind. I never wanted this to become a war.
Yet a war was just what he had on his hands now.
It wasn’t supposed to go down this way. He’d hoped he and his team would be delivered without incident to their destination, the scientific base on a moon in the Alpha Centauri-A system. That had always been a naive hope, he realized now. The conspiracy they were confronting was too big, too all-pervasive. The agents of Omega never had any intention of allowing three American Naval officers and thirty Marines to leave this ship alive. And, given the dozens and dozens of well-armed Russian soldiers sharing the voyage with them, it had been only a matter of time before the enemy decided to end the charade and remove the Americans from the picture.
Their only hope, Corrigan had felt, was to strike first, and strike hard. To seize control of the ship and hold her until they reached Alpha Centauri.
But it turned out their adversaries could put up a hell of a fight when their backs were pushed to the wall. And especially when there was literally nothing on the other side of that wall. Nothing but the void of the wormhole.
Now a number of his men and women lay dead, and the UNS Trygve Lie had become a shooting gallery—the Wild West at high noon, here in the darkness between the stars.
“Captain,” came a voice over his earpiece. There was static mixed in, either from interference from the fusion engine or some attempt by the enemy to jam their communications. Either way, it wasn’t completely blocking the signal, and Corrigan could hear his right-hand man, Commander Sean Maguire, just fine.
“Go ahead, Sean.”
“Sir, I’m just outside the command level. Captain Morozov has locked the whole section down. He ordered the approaches barricaded and manned with small arms and a couple of larger pieces.”
Corrigan cursed. “And?”
“We’re ready to launch a full assault against them whenever you give the word.”
Corrigan nodded to himself. “I’m on my way there now. We had some unexpected resistance to deal with back here. How does it look, Sean? Overall?”
A slight hesitation. Then, “It’s doable. But it won’t be easy.”
“Doable.” Corrigan repeated that one-word description, his voice carrying a degree of disapproval. “That’s not terribly encouraging, Sean.”
“It’s not what I’d call ideal circumstances, no, sir,” the commander replied. “But we need to move now, before they clear away the last of my hacks and regain complete control of the ship’s computers and life support systems.”
“I know,” Corrigan growled. His mind raced. There had to be a better way to do this than using pure brute force in a frontal assault. But whatever that other way might be, he couldn’t think of it at the moment. And there was no time left to come up with a better plan.
“Sir?” came Maguire’s voice over the link. “Go or no go?”
Corrigan hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurl what was left of his Marines against set defenses in narrow corridors with almost no cover. And especially when one misstep or stray shot might kill them all—everyone on board, American, Russian and otherwise. But the Commander was correct. The longer they waited, the more opportunity the other side had to regain full control of the ship, including the environment and the airlocks. Once that happened…
Corrigan inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, then gave the order. “Go.”
He glanced back at the Marines he’d helped secure this section of the ship, seeing them binding the wrists of the few prisoners they’d managed to capture. “Leave them,” he barked. “Get forward.”
Then he turned and sprinted for the command deck.
ALPHA/OMEGA: REVISED & EXPANDED DIRECTOR'S CUT
The Epic Novel of America vs Russia--on Alpha Centauri!
Stripped of his command and condemned to political exile, Captain Jack Corrigan believed his career was over.
But then the sinister "Omega" cabal seized control of Russia and launched an all-out military offensive across the solar system.
Ordered to embark on a secret mission by the US president, Corrigan discovers the Russians' ultimate objective: the scientific outpost orbiting the distant star Alpha Centauri, gateway to the vast frontier of galactic space.
Now Corrigan and his most trusted lieutenants race from world to world, dogged by enemy agents and assassins at every turn.
Can they find a way to defeat the Russians before Earth and all her colonies fall beneath Omega's despotic heel?
FULLY-REVISED AND MASSIVELY-EXPANDED EDITION
"Quick and punchy, down-n-dirty and rich with background... Jump in and take the ride!"
--Jim Beard, author of the Sgt. Janus series
"A Military SF Space Opera like no other!"
--Tommy Hancock, Editor-in-Chief, Pro Se Press
Check out the prologue for Hinterspace 1: Privateer. The audio book should be live soon!
A Rogue Psyborg
A Dead Captain
A Transport Gone Terribly Wrong
Ross, a psyborg war veteran turned privateer whose very existence is illegal, is hired to retrieve stolen tech from one of the most secure research sites in the Sol system. When everything goes sideways, he finds himself faced with a dilemma: risk exposure or place himself at the center of a conspiracy spanning the length and breadth of Hinterspace.
Hinterspace: In the largely lawless region between the belts, the ruthless are happy to take advantage.
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