"If Earth can fall within two days, Jim, then the Freedom won't make any difference, weapons or no weapons."
King looked back toward Earth.
A rah ship shot a pillar of flame. An Alliance frigate burned. Farther out, corvettes were cracking, falling down to Earth like so many dry leaves.
King watched them fall. He watched the fleet crumble. He watched the cities of Earth burn.
"It breaks my heart to run from this fight," he said softly.
"We will return," Jordan said. "Stronger than we are. Ready for war. And it's war again, old friend."
King heaved a long, painful breath. Everything hurt. He knew that Jordan was right.
I let my emotions get the better of me, King thought. I nearly killed us all.
"You were always the smarter officer," King said.
"And you were always the hothead. Nothing's changed."
"Everything has changed," King said, and he felt a great weight on his shoulders.
"Our Talaria drive will be ready in sixty seconds, sir," Mimori said. "Should I chart a course to Earth through the destruction? Where should we enter the battle?"
King looked at his crew. At Mimori. At his navigators, helmsmen, gunners, technicians. Everyone was staring, awaiting his orders. The firelight through the monitors painted them red.
"You all see what is happening on Earth," King said. "An alien invasion has hit us. Our fleet needs our help. Our people need our help. Our families need our help. And we will not let them down. But we're not flying to Earth right now. We will fly the Freedom to Merc Mory, an armory orbiting Mercury, which supplied us during World War III. We will prepare ourselves for battle."
"We can't just fly away from Earth!" said a tactical officer.
"You will obey your orders," King said. "I know it hurts. To leave our friends, our families behind, if only for a day. But right now the starship Freedom is helpless. That is why the enemy is not attacking us. They realize we're not a threat. Just a museum. They're right. Right now, if we fly to battle, we would die with the others. I will not lead you on a suicide mission. I will lead you to victory!"
"Victory!" Jordan cried, his deep voice booming.
King raised his fist. "For freedom!"
His officers raised their fists. "For freedom!"
"For freedom!" King shouted.
"For freedom!" they cried back.
"Sir, the engines are primed," Mimori said.
King faced the main viewport. He stared at the fire and devastation engulfing Earth. His heart broke. It might never mend.
He gave the order.
"Mimori, turn us away from Earth. Fly to Mercury. Fly as fast as you can."
The great engines of the starship Freedom rumbled. Clanging machinery sounded in the depths. The engines grew hotter, hotter, fusing atoms within magnetic fields, then blazing out their energy. Pistons the size of grain silos rose and fell, rose and fell, hammering, pounding. Electricity raced through cables, and particles charged through pipes. The gargantuan Talaria drive, a triumph of engineering the size of a cathedral, roared to life.
Outside the ship, anyone watching would see the three great exhaust ports—each larger than a football field—blaze out their fury.
The starship flew slowly at first. Then she gained speed. Soon she was racing.
They flew away from Earth. Away from an enemy they did not understand. Away from their families. From people who needed them.
But they flew for freedom.
They flew away from Earth and for Earth.
So much for retirement on the farm, King thought. So much for running a museum. I thought that World War III was the big one. But here is the great war of my life. Of all our lives.
The starship Freedom blazed through the night, leaving a trail of luminescence like a shooting star.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Starship Freedom
Leaving Earth orbit
19:04 Christmas 2199
Deep in the stern of the starship Freedom, the legendary Talaria engines hummed.
Talaria was old technology these days. Antiquated. Some said obsolete. Too large, too noisy, too expensive. As the engines roared, the entire starship vibrated and grumbled. Bulkheads creaked, cables thrummed across the corridors, and static electricity turned every doorknob into an endurance test. People swayed on their feet. Dishes rattled on tables. These were not like the modern engines with their graviton tech. You could barely feel yourself moving with those. No. With Talaria drives, when you were flying fast, you felt it.
They were massive machines, the Talaria engines, like cities for mechanical giants. A great ring spun, full of radial beams, moving faster and faster like a propeller, like a Ferris wheel that could dwarf the London Eye, like God's eye gazing upon the cosmos. Power surged through pipes so large you could drive a car through them. Nuclear fusion churned in a chamber the size of an arena, clutched within an electromagnetic fist. Energy shone blue, blasting out the exhaust ports, showering the cosmos with isotopic rain.
The starship Freedom surged through the darkness, moving faster and faster. Soon they were moving fifty thousand kilometers per hour. Then a hundred thousand. Then they doubled speed again.
Finally the Talaria drive reached its maximum power. The Freedom surged forth at one percent the speed of light.
It was a staggering speed. A wonder of physics and engineering. They were flying thousands of times faster than a speeding bullet. A century ago, starships would need a year or two to reach Mercury. Thanks to Talaria tech, the Freedom would get there tomorrow morning.
At Merc Mory, the Freedom could rearm, then fly back to Earth with weapons to win this war. A day of flying. A day to rearm—if they hustled. It seemed so long to be away from the fight. But King had no choice.
Earth shrank behind him.
For the first time in his life, King was running from battle.
But not for long, he swore. I will return, stronger than ever before.
The bridge bustled around King. Some crew members had their eyes closed, mumbling under their breath. They were communicating telepathically with other departments aboard the Freedom, as well as with other starships, those in the thick of battle. A few crew members were arguing loudly. Some kept running from station to station.
Monitors across the bridge kept displaying information from ATLAS. The system was pointed at Earth, attempting to paint a picture of the battle in orbit. Some ATLAS sensors were sweeping the rest of space, searching for more enemy ships. Portals were opening across the solar system—notably above Mars, Titan, and Europa—spilling out more aliens. Red warning signs kept flashing. Alarms kept sounding.
To add to the chaos, King had his MindLink turned on. He hated the damn implant, but right now he needed it. Information from the MindWeb kept feeding directly into his brain. He hallucinated floating numbers, maps, and video clips. The information hovered all around him, bluish and translucent like ghosts.
Data kept flooding in, too fast to process. Other starships, battling the rahs in orbit, kept sending updates. Alliance bases on the ground were transmitting too. Most were begging for aid.
King could hear them.
"Oh God, they're breaking in."
"They're boarding us!"
"They look like spiders. What the hell are those things? Send reinforcements! We need ai—"
Gunfire rattled.
People screamed.
Aliens screeched.
Every moment, another warship went silent. Another monitor aboard the Freedom went dark. Starship after starship—gone. Base after base—destroyed.
The picture was incomplete. ATLAS couldn't see everything. The updates from Earth were scattered. Aboard the Freedom, they scrambled to arrange the data into a meaningful picture of the war.
But everyone knew that humanity was losing.
King looked at the monitors around him, the old physical ones and the new telepathic ones. He saw the starships burn. He heard the voices cut si
lent. He knew many of those starship commanders. He had mentored some. He had fought with others in the war. He watched them fall. He watched his beloved Alliance tear apart.
He watched Earth burn. The rahs were landing. The spiders were swarming.
King saw all this. And he was out here, flying into deep space, unable to help.
He picked up a comlink. He opened a communication channel to every speaker on the starship. Thousands of people aboard the Freedom heard him speak.
"Attention, all crew and passengers. This is James King, commander of the starship. An hour ago, a fleet of alien starships attacked Earth and her colonies. Until tonight, we did not know if aliens existed. Tonight we learned that aliens are not only real, they are an enemy.
"The aliens belong to a species known as the rahs. We do not know their origin planet. We do not know why they attacked. We know only that they are predatory, technologically superior to us, and hostile. On the surface, they resemble arachnids, though we have not studied their biology.
"The rahs fly clawed starships, which my crew and I have been referring to as clawships. We've witnessed two types of clawships. Some are small, agile, and deadly, with a single rah pilot. We've called them clawfighters. Other enemy ships are larger, even larger than the Freedom. We've called them warclaws. Both types of vessels have unleashed unimaginable violence and destruction.
"The rah attack was planned in advance. We know this due to its sophistication. The attack caught us off guard. It caused terrible loss of life.
"An hour ago, the rahs attacked the Alliance fleet in orbit around Earth, destroying many of our starships. Our greatest dreadnoughts were hit first, with many destroyed. Much of the fleet is gone, and the rest are still engaged in bitter combat.
"An hour ago, the rahs also attacked the Red Dawn and the Desert Thorns. Those two unions of nations have joined the war. The enemy does not distinguish between humans. They do not take sides in our squabbles. They see us all as prey.
"An hour ago, the rahs struck many targets on the surface of Earth. With beams of focused plasma, like swords of fire from the sky, they destroyed many of our landmarks. The Statue of Liberty. The White House. The Kremlin. The Forbidden City. The Alliance Headquarters. Buckingham Palace. These targets, some symbolic and others military assets, have all been destroyed. The president of the United States is believed dead. So are the leaders of many other nations. We've been unable to contact High Commander Archer, the head of the Alliance, and we know his bunker was struck.
"Battles rage across Earth and her orbit. The brave soldiers of the Alliance, as well as soldiers from the Red Dawn and the Desert Thorns, are fighting the enemy. Many are giving their lives to defend our homeworld.
"I regret to tell you that many lives were lost. The number of casualties, civilian and military, is not yet known. But the number is staggeringly high.
"I know this news is difficult. I know our hearts are all broken. But tonight we must set aside grief. Tonight we must summon our courage and strength—and fight the enemy.
"The starship Freedom is a museum. A tourist attraction. A resort. Recognizing this, the enemy spared us. While many warships burned, the Freedom escaped destruction. But decades ago, the Freedom was a mighty warship. That she will become again.
"As commander of the Freedom, I've ordered the starship to fly to Mercury. The Alliance maintains an armory orbiting that planet, ready to equip the starship Freedom for war. At Alliance Mercury Armory, we will stock up with torpedoes, railgun projectiles, Eagle missiles, bullets, and all the other weaponry we will require.
"Once we return to Earth, civilian guests aboard the Freedom will be given a choice. You may depart the Freedom, return to your homes on Earth, and seek safety there. Shuttles will be provided. Or you may remain aboard the Freedom where you will be classified as refugees, and thus under Alliance protection. The Freedom will be flying to battle. But I believe that everywhere that humans live is now a war zone. We don't know the full situation on Earth, but we know the rahs have landed ground troops. Perhaps no place is safe.
"My guests—this is a difficult choice. Our trip to Mercury and back will take two days. By then, you must decide. Depart our ship. Or stay, hope for safety within our armored hull, and fly with us to battle.
"The path ahead will be long. The battle will be hard. And the starship Freedom will be part of this war. Thirty-five years ago, we fought a great war among humans. Now we will begin to fight in the great war of all humanity.
"With the determination of our fleet and her brave spacers, with the courage of our forces on the ground, with the unrelenting spirit of humanity, we will triumph against the rahs—so help us God.
"Tonight we enter the great war of our lives. For Earth. For humanity. And for freedom!"
King ended his transmission. For a moment everyone on the bridge was silent. Maybe everyone across the starship. For a moment only the sound of the machinery filled the bridge.
They all looked at him.
Jordan, his second-in-command and best friend. Jordan—tall and somber, forever the voice of reason that tamed King's fire.
Darjeeling. Dear old Darjeeling, the backbone of the ship, forever stalwart and loyal.
Mimori. Personification of the Freedom. Woman and machine. Muse and goddess. Mimori, beloved above all others.
Spitfire. Spitfire of so much flame and anger and sadness. Spitfire, commander of the starfighters, mistress of the stars, who was like a daughter to King.
Navigators. Technicians. Engineers. All those on the bridge. All those who served on this ship. A crew that ran a resort, that now carried the hope of mankind.
They looked at King. At this time of crisis, they turned to him for leadership, for strength, for hope. King did not know if he had any hope to give them.
He looked at his bridge crew. He spoke to them alone.
"I believe in you. I'm proud of you. None of us expected this. But I have full confidence in your abilities. There is no better crew in the Alliance. And there is no better starship than the Freedom."
Jordan stepped forward. The tall XO raised his chin. He began to sing with a mellifluous baritone. He sang the "Song of Freedom," the anthem of the starship. Spacers had sung this song during World War III. Jordan himself, back then a young starfighter pilot, had composed the music, while Prince Robert had written the lyrics. Today every human knew the words, knew the legend of the Freedom. Standing on the bridge, the crew joined the XO. Even King joined in, raspy voice and all. They sang together.
Let all free souls salute her flight
Let her engines bathe the dark with light
Let her cannons sing the song of freedom
The fleet will gather; she will lead them
Our flagship sails into the flame
As poets weep and sing her name
For liberty's light! For glory's hymn!
Praise the Freedom, she will win!
The song ended. They stood in silence. Many of them had tears in their eyes.
Darjeeling stepped toward King. Tears glistened on his mustache.
"Sir," the Englishman said. "Has there been news of the royal family? Have they been able to evacuate the palace, or …"
King put a hand on Darjeeling's shoulder. "Oliver, I'm sorry. They're gone."
Darjeeling tightened his lips. Even to remain standing seemed a struggle to him. "Sir, may I depart the bridge? I must see the princess. If there is any comfort I can give, I must."
King nodded. "Of course, Oliver. Be there for her. She needs you now."
Darjeeling saluted, lips quivering, then spun on his heel and marched off the bridge.
We all need you now, Oliver Darjeeling, King thought, watching his friend go. We all need strong men, loyal soldiers, and good friends.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Starship Freedom
7 million kms from Earth
19:59 Christmas 2199
Princess Emily was sitting in the royal suite, holding Nile
s in her lap, when she heard the commander's speech over the speakers.
When the speech ended, she sat in silent terror.
The royal suite aboard the starship Freedom was luxurious, fitting for a princess. Oil paintings hung on the walls—original works by Renaissance masters, depicting scenes of Greek mythology. A Titian hung over the fireplace, featuring a lounging Venus with flaming red hair. Giltwood furniture, Italian marble tiles, silver statues of cranes and ibises—it was all elegant, priceless. A suite for the most pampered and powerful of guests.
But none of this opulence could comfort Emily now. She barely noticed it. She sat in an upholstered armchair, struggling to breathe.
In his speech, the commander had said many things. But just two words echoed in Emily's ears.
Buckingham Palace.
Her home.
It was among the targets destroyed in the assault.
Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she trembled.
"Oh, Niles," she whispered, holding the drone.
"Emily, I'm … I'm sure your family rushed into the bunker," the drone said, but his voice shook. "As soon as the attacks began, I'm sure they fled to safety."
Emily nodded. She had seen the bunkers below Buckingham Palace, constructed during the third world war. The royal family had plans to deal with doomsday threats. There were not only bunkers below the palace, but also shuttles ready to rush the family out of London entirely, if deemed necessary, and to countryside hideouts. But had her family evacuated in time? The attacks had been so sudden.
"Niles, I'm scared." She hugged him even closer.
A knock sounded on the suite door.
Emily leaped to her feet. Niles flew through the air, then steadied himself and hovered at her side.
She stood there, trembling. Suddenly she felt like a little girl. Just a weak seventeen-year-old child, lost in space, so afraid. A little bird in a gilded cage, trapped as the house burned around her.
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