Contents
Title Page
Copyright © 2021 Nathan Hystad
Books By Nathan Hystad
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Space Strike (Space Race Book 3)
Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One)
Copyright © 2021 Nathan Hystad
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover art: Tom Edwards Design
Edited by: Christen Hystad
Edited by: Scarlett R Algee
Proofed and Formatted by: BZ Hercules
Books By Nathan Hystad
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The Bridge Sequence
Lost Contact
Lost Time
Lost Hope
Space Race
Space Race
Space Battle
Space Strike
The Survivors Series
The Event
New Threat
New World
The Ancients
The Theos
Old Enemy
New Alliance
The Gatekeepers
New Horizon
The Academy
Old World
New Discovery
Old Secrets
The Deities
New Beginning
New Lies
The Colony
Baldwin’s Legacy
Confrontation
Unification
Culmination
Hierarchy
Lineage
Legacy
The Resistance Series
Rift
Revenge
Return
The Manuscript
Lights Over Cloud Lake
Red Creek
Return to Red Creek
Prologue
Seventeen Years Ago
Proxima. The word carried so many different connotations for Captain Preston Lewis. A distant solar system with a potentially habitable planet was at the forefront, but there was more to it. Dreams. Aspirations to expand beyond the physical boundaries of Earth and its corporate greed.
“Captain, we’re within probe range.” Commander Garret Breaker pointed to Obelisk’s viewer. Proxima b showed on screen, zoomed as clearly as they could manage. It didn’t look like much, but Preston understood the potential. This was a big gamble on behalf of the Board. He was convinced Proxima would never amount to a colony, not in the way he’d like it to be.
Watching the hunk of rock, he imagined space stations in orbit, the mining efforts on the planet in full effect. Those selfish Corporations would tear the world apart. It was a travesty, but he wasn’t here to change their minds. He was hired to do a job, and that was to gather intel.
“Send the probes, Breaker. Store all data and continue our progress.” Preston glanced across the bridge, Catarina Kelley catching his eye. He still couldn’t believe Bryson had allowed her to join their expedition. But when it came to Catarina, he doubted there was much compromise in her bones. She was strong-willed and driven to succeed.
Preston remembered a young Bryson following him and the SeaTech CEO around while they discussed politics and ethics. Carter was a brilliant man, determined to usher SeaTech into the Primaries. He hadn’t lived long enough to see it through, but if anyone could continue the legacy, it was Bryson.
Almost two years. Preston shook his head slowly, remembering the party the Board organized before their departure. Arlo had been so crestfallen, refusing to race again. The boy possessed an aptitude like no other, at a remarkably early age, and letting him down was one of the only regrets Preston had in his life.
Arlo Lewis had abandoned the race circuit, and it was his fault.
He planned on making it up to the kid, but by the time he returned from this mission, Arlo would be over twenty years old. A lot could change in five years, especially while entering adulthood.
A notification chimed on the commander’s console, and Preston waited for an update. “Sir, the probes are disappearing.”
Preston frowned and peered at the screen. “What do you mean?”
“They’re vanishing.”
Breaker’s face had paled, but Preston wasn’t so easily shaken. “They’re new models. Sage probably screwed up the design like they always do,” he muttered.
“We’ve loaded the ones from Luna. Would you like me to deploy them?” Ensign Kelley asked.
“Good plan. Please distribute the reserves.” Preston watched as all twenty of the initial probes slowly blinked off the screen. What could be causing the failure? “How close were they to Proxima b?”
“We were 0.0015 AU from reaching orbit, Captain,” the commander advised.
They waited as the Luna models thrust from the belly of Obelisk, racing for their programmed destination.
A few minutes later, they also began disappearing. Preston rose, stalking to the side of the bridge. “What’s the problem?”
“Captain,” a voice said through the computer’s speakers. It was Engineer Rufus Eloff.
“Go ahead, Eloff,” Preston said.
“We’re picking up some energy fluctuations.” Eloff’s voice cracked.
Preston glanced at his commander, who shrugged. “What’s triggering it?”
“We can’t be sure, but it appears as if something’s emitting a powerful energy spectrum within this system. It’s scattering our readouts,” Eloff told him.
“That’s probably our issue with the probes.” Commander Breaker appeared to relax slightly.
“Okay. Can we plot an alternate path to avoid the disruption?” Preston asked engineering.
“I think so. Stand by for new flight plan.” The call went silent.
“See. Everything’s going to be okay,” Preston told the bridge crew. There were five of them on the bridge, and over the last three years of training and the mission, they’d become like family. They were so invested in the mission that he couldn’t imagine something preventing them from landing at Proxima in the next few weeks.
Preston returned to his seat, and Obelisk shuddered, nearly sending him to the floor. “What happened?” Alarms rang throughout the bridge, and Preston clutched the captain’s chair’s arms, seeking signs of danger through the viewer. There was only black space, littered with distant stars.
“No visuals, sir, but I think we’re being followed,” Ensign Lane told him.
“What makes you…” The ship shook, buckling as they were struck.
“Our thrusters… damage on deck four. Engine capacity at seventy.” This from engineering. Another violent shake.
“What in the hell is attacking us?” Preston used his computer to obtain a visual from the twenty exterior hull cameras mounted around Obelisk. He couldn’t see anything. Fighting an invisible enemy wasn’t a simple feat. And Obelisk had rudimentary firepower, at best.
“There’s no way to tell, but judging by the trajectory of the damaged
