Richard paused. “She needs to meet with Jacob, er, Administrator Monroe, to arrange for the crews to bunk permanently on the Earth2 station. We need tighter security now that the alien ships are closer. There have been a series of incidents lately …”
“What are you saying?” Deane stared at him.
Richard frowned. Concern rippled across his face. He ducked his head into the room, scanning the area. “You weren’t supposed to see … her leave.”
“Leave? She just disappeared!”
“Well, some Enjelise variants have that ability… At least, she does. But her talent is absolutely top secret, you understand?” He paused, then blinked.
“She can teleport?”
Richard shrugged. “Saved my brother doing it.” His eyebrows lifted. “Music helps. But a story for another time.”
“She’s an Enjelise?”
“A variant. Twenty-five percent.”
“I told her the Enjelise didn’t exist.”
Richard smiled. “Did she laugh at you?”
A sigh escaped Deane. “No, she told me there was a lot I had to learn.”
Richard nodded. “She’s right. Now’s a good time to begin. Get your crew together and tell them to pack. Your team’s moving to Earth2. We can’t afford any more sabotage attempts, so we’re relocating the crews near the ships so as to consolidate our security. Besides, production is going faster than expected.”
He swung back around. “And Deane, not a word about,” the hand slashed toward the room, “this.”
“Yes, sir.”
Richard strode out while Deane lingered, wondering what had really happened and what more he needed to learn. He was exhausted, and now, they were headed back to the Terran station.
***
“Deane, wake up.”
Deane felt someone shaking him. Yesterday's maneuvers in the sim had been grueling, and he’d fallen into bed exhausted. In addition, he was still adjusting to living on the lower gravity Earth2 space station where the food was…
Someone shook him again.
“What?” He blinked open bleary eyes to discover the pert nose and bright eyes of crewmate Jet. Hastily, he sat up, grabbing sheets to wrap around him. He gazed at the male bodies sleeping all around him in the dorm, and the invading female next to him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I saw one of the engineers sneak into the shuttlebay. I think he’s planning to mess up the ships.”
Deane grabbed a shirt, underwear, and pants. He slid out of his sheets and quickly dressed. “Call security.”
“I did, but they are so slow, he might do something before they get there.”
“So, what do you expect me to do?”
Her grin was apparent through the dim light. “Why protect me, of course, and be a supporting witness. We’ll need someone else besides me to identify him.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, but only because alone you’ll create more havoc than anyone could handle.”
She tugged his arm. “Best case, you can keep me company. Worst one, you can be my shield if he’s armed.”
The last comment didn’t sit so well, but he followed her past snoring men and envied them their sleep.
They took the lift to the shuttlebay corridor and slinked up to its entrance. A red light blinked on the bulky comm at her wrist, and she whispered into it.
In front of them, the panel blinked green and slid silently open.
“How…” She put a hand over his mouth and pointed with the other.
In the shuttlebay, a shadow moved next to a ship. A flashlight ignited, revealing a brush-cut and hawk-like nose in silhouette.
“It’s Ames. We thought it might be him.” She tapped her wrist comm, then pulled out a camera.
“Light’s low,” he whispered.
She glared at him and put a finger to her lips.
Out in the shuttlebay, the silhouette straightened and peered around. Finally, it moved into a cockpit.
Jet waved them closer.
As they neared the targeted ship, they heard cursing and banging on metal. Soon, a torch flamed with a dull red light. There was more shuffling and muffled swearing.
Jet slid the camera onto a viewport and took pictures.
The banging stopped. Whoever was inside started collecting equipment and easing out. Deane grabbed her arm just as the shuttlebay erupted with lights and shouting.
From inside the cockpit, a voice said, “Oh, frag.”
Behind Deane, Deuce Card appeared with drawn weapon and flashlight. “Come out Ames. We got you.”
A head popped out from the cockpit’s hatch. “Your lot’s going to destroy Alysia with lasers and missiles. These ships are the first step to planet annihilation.”
Deuce sliced a hand through the air. “Oh, save the rhetoric for someone else. You did the job on the first prototype, sabotaging it for the Santine Corporation. You’re a mercenary, in it for the money and nothing else.”
Ames’ long, lanky body emerged onto the shuttlebay floor. He flapped his hands. “Large corporations pay big money.” He grinned.
Deuce grabbed his arm and waved his gun at two arriving agents. “All that money will be hard to spend where you’re going. I’m arresting you for sabotage and murder.”
The grin vanished.
Deuce shoved Ames at the incoming agents and put out a hand for Jet.
She slapped the camera into his hand. “Caught him red-handed. It’s all there. We can testify if you need us.”
Deuce’s eyebrows raised. “Nice work, Samantha. We’ll make an agent out of you yet.”
“So sorry, cuz. I’m a space jockey now.” She squeezed Deane’s arm. “I have stardust in my eyes. I got you what you wanted, and so, I’m done.” She lifted the heavy necklace from her neck and unclasped the wrist comm, placing them in his hands.
“All yours.” She turned to Deane. “Let’s go, Captain. You need your rest, so we can fly tomorrow.”
Chapter 41
It begins
When the alarm sounded, Deane was washing his face. He heard the shrill blare and straightened up, staring for a minute into the mirror above the wash basin. A wet, tense face stared back. Grabbing a towel, he dried away his fears, spun around, pulled his gear out of the closet, and headed out.
As usual, Garrett and Jet were trading barbs with each other over breakfast when they heard the alert. Abruptly, they stopped and gazed at each other.
“Time to go,” said Garrett. Jet nodded, grabbed a roll, and together they picked up their gear and headed out.
Harry wanted to sleep in, but the ear-piercing siren rolled him right out of bed onto the floor. Brushing back disheveled red hair, he spit out several choice curses to any and all nearby listeners. Then, rolling upright, he grabbed a fast shower and threw on clothes. He bent over to scoop up his bag and strode out, muttering curses.
Lucas was already in the shower, not alone. He turned off the water and reached for two towels. One he dried off with, the other he tossed to his companion. Stepping out, they dressed in silence.
“Meet you there,” he said, picking up his gear, and headed out.
Soon the corridor filled up with crews, funneling their way into the ready room.
At the front of the room, Captain Spencer and Captain Longstaff wore worried expressions, rather than the bland faces, usually reserved for drills.
So, this was not a drill.
As the last few of the crews arrived, the door closed, and absolute silence settled over the room. Captain Spencer cleared his throat. “We have spent years preparing for this moment,” he began. “Approaching unidentified ships are nearing our closest planet. We have found probable weapons’ signatures on board, and intelligence with body heat emissions drives the ships. We don’t know whether they are hostile or not, but experience says most likely they are. However, no one is to fire unless fired upon first. War is not our objective. Terrans didn’t want a war when they came, and luckily Richard Steele fi
gured that out. Maybe these beings only want a place to live, but revenge could be their goal. If they are aggressive, then we have prepared as best we can to defend ourselves. However, you are the frontline, the first defense. We hope to stop them.”
Captain Longstaff took over. “If there is hostile action, the plan is simple. We approach the enemy in five rows of two using Kracta to hide us. Then we break out, right row heads right and left row goes left. The leading ships circle to their flank, hopefully avoiding enemy fire. If possible, take them out any way you can. We don’t know what weapons they have now, but previously, they used laser and projectile fire.”
Captain Spencer paused and intently gazed around. “Billions of lives will depend on the outcome of this encounter. We hope to stop them with your efforts. They’re counting on you.”
Captain Longstaff stepped forward. “Go to your lockers, suit up, and get your final briefing. From there, you’ll enter your ships and follow normal launch procedures. We have practiced numerous strategies already. Which ones we use will be determined as events unfold. In a real battle, you never know what you are going to do until the action starts. Alysia Station will be launching their five ships at the same time and will rendezvous with us. Captain Spencer will be your designated fleet commander. Good luck and Godspeed.”
Captain Longstaff stepped back to the podium as the doors opened. Murmurs rippled around the room.
“All our prayers go with you. Dismissed,” ordered the newly promoted Commander Spencer. The room emptied.
Muffled footsteps echoed in an unusually quiet corridor. Abruptly in the back, someone shouted, swung around, and headed in the opposite direction.
His crewmembers reached out and grabbed him, one on each arm. “Now Mike, we need you,” they argued. “You have to come with us. We can’t fly without you.”
Behind him a companion nodded. “Hey guy, we’re going to win this, but we can’t win it if crews chicken out.”
They spun him back around and quick-stepped to catch up. To inquiring voices, they answered, “ Give him a moment. He’ll be fine. Just a case of nerves.”
Someone gave a ragged laugh. “Entertaining a few second thoughts myself, but isn’t everyone?”
Embarrassed, Mike shrugged off the hands. “It’s okay, guys. I’m good now. Let’s go get those bastards!” He let out a hoarse shout.
A throaty roar responded, filling the corridor, and the pace picked up. Arms lifted, and fists clenched as they made their way to the shuttlebay.
Jet squeezed a shaky Garrett’s arm and sang, “Left, right, left, right, we’ll show those devils how we can fight.”
In no time, the whole corridor rang with their chorus.
Once inside, they grew quiet as crew assignments began. Entering their designated ships, each crew adjusted their straps, reviewed launch instructions, and checked their monitors. Now all conversations took place in abrupt no-nonsense words.
Deane studied his own crew. He noticed the pale faces and slight shake of their hands as they settled in. Harry stared out the viewport briefly, and Garrett chewed on a nail while laying in a course. Lucas kept rubbing his face and blinking. Jet was entirely too quiet.
Deane cleared his throat. “Remember nothing should happen until we reach Kracta. After that, Alysia is depending on us.”
Ahead of them, a ship catapulted out, causing the four remaining ships to shake in its backdraft.
Deane studied his launch sheet. “Okay, tighten your seatbelts and seal your faceplates. Report when done.”
One by one, they responded, “Straps secured, and helmet fastened.”
In his headset, a familiar bass voice said, “Controls over to you, Captain Wood. Our prayers go with you.”
“Acknowledged, Mission Central. I have control.”
He raised a hand. “Prepare for launch everyone. Give us a countdown, Jet.”
Deane watched the digital numbers flash red as Jet counted, “Five, four, three, two, launch.”
Deane pressed the launch button.
Bang.
His head snapped back as the ship catapulted out the open bay door. The familiar push of acceleration shoved him deep into his seat as their ship streaked out into a star-sprinkled universe.
Not far ahead, Captain Longstaff’s ship formed a bright spot against the dark canopy. “Greenfire, you’re in our sights,” he said.
In his ear, Mission Central said, “Launch successful, Red Dragon. Station clearance in five. Start the countdown for booster push. Watch for ships launching behind you.”
Deane scanned his screens, happy to see all lights green. “All stations report in.”
“My panel shows green,” chirped Jet.
“Weapons locked and loaded,” Harry grunted.
“Course laid in,” Garrett responded.
“All good here,” Lucas answered.
Satisfied with the status of his ship, Deane said, “Start a countdown to booster ignition, Comm.”
Jet answered, “Countdown initiated.”
Craning his neck, Deane studied his overhead monitors. Next to him, Garrett reaffirmed their course to Kracta. Lucas focused on their speed and direction, preparing for the jolt of the booster and its effect on their trajectory.
Deane checked his back monitor. A third ship had ejected out of the shuttlebay and was moving up fast.
Jet cut in, “Ready for booster ignition. Five, four, three, two, one.”
A jolt from the booster rocket propelled the Red Dragon forward, causing grunts from everyone. Behind them, the other ship diminished rapidly, but up front, gathering ships appeared.
“Booster separation in five, four, three, two, one. Separation complete.” Jet leaned into the comm to watch as the rocket fell away. Deane followed on his own screens.
“Separation successful,” he proclaimed.
“Come join the fleet, Captain Wood,” said a female voice over comm.
Immediately, he recognized the dulcet tones of Hallie Lord. “Lieutenant Lord?”
A yellow LED on his panel lit, indicating her ship.
“Captain Lord, now. I got a promotion and a ship.”
“Congratulations, I think,” he said.
“Ship approaching on your seven, Captain Lord.” Deane recognized the clipped-toned voice of Captain Longstaff as his green light blinked on.
“We have you in sight, Sir.”
“Welcome to the party, folks,” said a voice unfamiliar to Deane. A purple light flicked on his panel.
“Elija, is that you? How’d they talk you into this insanity?”
“Richard promised me an armed ship for the Terran cause. Besides, I kinda missed the adrenaline rush of flying in space. Nothing compares.”
Deane recalled someone named Elija on Alysia who ran a Terran stronghold called the Homestead. Another Terran recruited to the cause, he thought.
“Did you really name that crate Purple Haze?” Deane heard Captain Spencer and Longstaff both laugh.
Elija answered, “A tribute to a popular Earth song. When they assigned me purple, it was a natural.”
“Hallie corralled Bashar into being her helm for the Golden Angel out of Earth2.”
Lucas snickered, and Deane smiled. Jet leaned into her comm and said, “That man can really fly.”
Another voice just coming online muttered, “And he plays a mean game of pool.”
“Heads up, chatterboxes. Two at nine o’clock coming from Alysia Station.”
“I have them on my screens.” Deane now counted seven ships forming up around him.
“White Lightening reporting in,” came a voice as a white button lit up.
“Who’s that?” asked Captain Longstaff.
“Captain Adji T’Kai out of the Ching T’Karre off Alysia Station.”
Commander Spencer’s voice boomed in, “Welcome. How many more, Henry?”
“Six forming up with four more on the way. That’s all we could get operational in time for this launch. And even then, it was touc
h and go.”
“All right. Start setting the formation,” Commander Spencer ordered. “Mission Central has plotted the alien ships to approach Kracta at ten oh five with current speed. We want to surprise them on the other side, far enough out to avoid damaging our only surviving moon.”
Two more ships approached from Alysia Station. Team Orange captained by Jared Stone out of the Diechwrathe called their ship the Orange Peel, and the Gray Team captained by Taj Polo from the Republic flew the Grey Dawn.
“Listen up. I don’t want to arrive too early and mill around waiting for these guys to show. It wastes energy we might need. Captains, limit your speed to level four. Five neutron pellets will do the job. You have the course. Our objective should be easy to spot. Frag, it’s the big white object in the sky; the one you see every night. And nine other ships will be flying right next to you, so you shouldn’t get lost. Confirm you have received your instructions.”
Deane punched his comm. “Instructions received.”
There was a pause as the other captains responded. Then, Commander Spencer said, “Monitor this channel for orders and reports, but use frequency three-two-five for admin, logistics and anything else, including personal messages. Commander Spencer out.”
On his screen, Deane observed two final ships approaching from Alysia Station.
***
“Patch me into my wife, Adrian. She should be in your shuttlebay helping launch the ships.”
Richard surveyed the empty shuttlebay of Earth2 and breathed a sigh of relief that all the ships had, at the least, flown out safely and now were joining up with the fleet. All was going according to plan. The crews were trained to the best of his ability, and ten functioning warships went to meet the enemy. Not as many as the fifteen they’d wanted, but a decent defense. The stations were armed and satellites with weapons ringed Alysia. Ground missiles were ready, and the planet was on alert. Now, he needed to connect with his wife to make sure Alysia Station had done their part, and their ships had launched successfully.
“She’s already left, Richard.” Adrian’s voice held a quizzical tone.
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