by Britt Ringel
Brewer slumped into his chair. “The carriers have external and internal hangars, Commander,” he explained quietly. “I hoped that with over ten thousand cutters present, they had already emptied their internal bays.”
“Four hundred contacts…” the sensor officer counted aloud. “Five hundred now.”
Brewer stared defiantly at the tactical plot. He was beaten but remained undefeated. His hand moved to his communications controls. “Attention, Expeditionary Fleet, this is Sebastian Brewer. We will continue our attack; there is no retreat. And while we may not reach our ultimate goal, our deaths will secure the safety of the Republic. In the decade since first encountering the Parasites, that alien race has never ventured farther than their knowledge of last contact. Pathfinder dove before the Parasites entered Skathi. She will carry warning to our people. By finishing our attack here, the Parasites will sit idly in Skathi while our Republic consolidates a force large enough to defeat them. Our sacrifice here means the preservation of our Republic and our families. We can take comfort in that.” The bold speech left Brewer with a victor’s smile. He considered how much time he had spent spinning and shaping truth and opinion… and now it came back to what it was that drew him to service in the first place. He smirked. His career truly had come full circle.
Seven hundred cutters were now sailing toward the Terran fleet. The cutters would intercept Brewer’s ships nearly 1lm from the nearest super-carrier.
Brewer let his hand slide away from his chair arm. There was nothing left for him to do but ensure that there were no human survivors. He would not fail.
“Uh, contact?” his confused sensor officer announced. “Contact near the Narvi tunnel point.”
“Is it help?” Michaels asked hopefully.
Brewer’s first thought was that Pathfinder was returning, against orders, with reinforcements. The notion was quickly dashed. She hasn’t even reached Tarvos yet. It’s impossible for her to be back with help.
The sensor officer’s hands flew over his console. “Putting it up now, sir.”
The tactical plot painted a green symbol 10ls from the Narvi tunnel point. A side screen sprang to life to reveal the glowing drives of a civilian freighter. Her navigation beacon was inactive, suggesting illicit activity.
“What am I seeing?” Michaels asked in shock. “What is that freighter doing in Skathi?” he demanded. He looked between the optical and Brewer. “She… she can’t mean to dive! The Parasites will see the tunnel disturbance!”
Brewer’s grey eyes closed in defeat.
Chapter 54
Christy Scott stood near the street, shifting from foot to foot nervously on the quickcrete. The unrelenting heat from the Narvi system’s orange star went unnoticed as she watched her third grade teacher pace the diminishing line of students. Wearing a yellow, reflective long-sleeve “Daisy the Dune Racer” shirt and long pants, Christy was used to the heat, having lived on Hulda her entire, short life. Ms. Nelson continued to pace and watch the sky, scanning the congested, local airway as she wiped her brow.
Talin Elementary School had cut its day short but none of the students understood why. Ms. Nelson had insisted on no talking in the line. Christy had suspected her teacher was ill at the beginning of the day, finding the woman distracted from the moment she walked into the classroom. Ms. Nelson had recited the history of the start of the Secession Wars with little enthusiasm, starting and stopping, circling back over things she had already said without seeming to realize she was doing it. Christy felt bad that her teacher was surely sick.
Two hours short of lunch, the principal had announced over the school’s intercom that teachers were to bring their classes to the outdoor loading area and wait until each child was picked up by a parent or guardian. Christy’s classmates had cheered with her at the call, only to have Ms. Nelson snap them into a stunned hush. It was the first time Ms. Nelson had ever raised her voice during the entire semester. Curiously, this morning it was as if every teacher in Talin Elementary School had been taken over by strangers.
Christy waited in line silently. She shrugged her waifish shoulders under the weight of her backpack, burdened with the language project she was taking home. In her tiny hands, she moved deft fingers over her datapad, answering math problems to keep from talking. Tommy Hewitt had tested Ms. Nelson’s no talking rule and the entire class had withstood an uncharacteristic, withering barrage from their teacher. Hopefully, the “real” Ms. Nelson would be back tomorrow.
A nagging thought that her teacher’s anxiety might be related to her father passed fleetingly through Christy. While getting ready for school that morning, her dad had come into her bedroom to hug her goodbye. He had been wearing ill-fitting clothes she had never seen before. She remembered that she had let loose a short laugh at the comical sight before being squeezed fiercely in his arms.
Over the next fifteen minutes, Christy’s classmates departed while pacing educators kept anxious count. Even she had begun to sweat under the sweltering rays of midday. During her wait, Christy overheard the teachers whispering, wondering when they would be able to leave. This struck her as funny. Why would teachers leave the school before the end of the day?
“Christy,” Ms. Nelson said while shaking her lightly. “Your mom is here.”
Christy looked up and smiled before pushing her “Daisy” sunglasses up her nose with a tiny finger. “Goodbye, Ms. Nelson. See you tomorrow.” She began to run toward the familiar green aircar but stopped and turned around. “I hope you feel better!” she cried out as she waved.
* * *
Joan Scott barely waited for her only child to buckle her aircar restraints before moving the vehicle’s throttle forward. Sensors blared warnings to help prevent a midair collision and she realized she had not even checked to see if the airway above the school was open. The traffic was unreal. Everyone is rushing home, she thought.
In the predawn hours of the morning, she and her husband, Henry, had been awakened by Narvi’s emergency broadcasting system. Alerts had simultaneously appeared on their datapads and the home’s primary wall screens. Even the consoles in their aircars had received the alert, warning the citizens of Hulda that a large fleet entered their star system from the abandoned mining system of Skathi.
Less than a month earlier, a Republic fleet larger than any in recent history had quietly but noticeably transited the system and dove for Skathi. Initially, Joan had thought the Narvi defense force commander had jumped the gun this morning and sent out an emergency message in error, mistaking their own fleet for Hollarans. However, when no correction was issued and a second message recalled every able-bodied member of the Narvi defense force, active, reserve and retired, Joan had known the fleet could mean only one thing.
She gritted her teeth while drifting the aircar thirty meters to the left. It was crazy how thick traffic was. She was tempted to break the law and take her aircar outside the designated traffic lanes.
“Just ignore it,” Joan remembered suggesting to her husband. “They can’t possibly expect you to respond, Hank.”
She pictured her husband having difficulty fastening the final button of his Narvi Guard uniform. The outer blouse had strained to cover his ever-growing girth. His voice echoed in her head. “I can’t ignore it, Joanie. They’ll throw me in confinement after this is over.”
“But you separated seven years ago and you haven’t exercised with your old company since the end of the war.”
Hank had smiled his goofy smile at her as he secured the last button. “I doubt the Hollarans will even come to the surface, honey.”
She had given him a cold stare. “The talking heads on the news outlets say this invasion force has two troop carriers that dwarf the largest Republic transports.” She had walked across the bedroom and took firm hold of her husband’s hands. “The men in those transports are trained, professional killers. You’re not even in shape anymore!”
Joan closed her eyes at the memory. The wounded look from her husband wa
s clear proof of her decisive blow. Without retort, he had hugged her and told her how much he loved her. Even then, she had not been able to speak. She had been furious with him for choosing to play soldier over staying with his own family. He’ll come home tonight and I’ll tell him how much I love him, she resolved. I’ll say everything I should have said this morning.
“Mommy, look!”
Joan turned toward her daughter. Christy was holding out her datapad for her mother to read a headline:
NARVI DEFENSE SHIPS ANNIHILATED
Pictures of an oblong spacecraft hovered under the words. Joan had seen holo-vids of Hollaran warships before. This looked nothing like them. The Hollies have not been idle these past ten years. She shook her head. Isn’t one galactic blood fest enough in this decade?
An update washed over Christy’s datapad. In the backseat, Joan’s own datapad beeped noisily for attention. The aircar’s center console switched from the navigation screen to an alert as the car’s resident computer read the message to her.
“Attention, by order of the Narvi Council, all civilians on the planet are to proceed to the nearest emergency shelter.” The message repeated even as the navigation screen reappeared and calculated the fastest route to a Talin bunker.
Joan deactivated the guidance and veered off the airway while throttling down. Her neighborhood below was a beehive of activity. She circled as she watched the confusion on the ground. Her blood ran cold. My God, the Hollarans are really coming. She looked at her daughter with wild eyes.
“Mommy, what about Sparks?” Christy asked.
Joan hesitated briefly but then reactivated the guidance. The car executed a sharp turn to reenter the airway. “The shelter won’t take pets, honey. Sparks will wait for us at home.”
The aircar took its place back in the thickening line of traffic. It’s going to take us forever to reach downtown. The thought of Hollaran invasion ships coming down around them clawed at her. Maybe I should run into the badlands. Just exit the airway and make a run for it on our own.
A thundering noise made Joan nearly jump out of her seat as the aircar was buffeted to its left.
“Look!” Christy exclaimed while pointing toward the ground.
A bare kilometer to the right, a squadron of old, Copperhead air superiority fighters scrambled in unison. The venerable engines spat flame even in the daylight as they pushed agilely upwards and to the east. The shockwave had cracked the passenger-side window of the aircar.
Joan’s heart pounded. We’re really at war, she thought, terrified.
“That was cool!” Christy proclaimed and bounced on her seat.
Tears began to well in Joan’s eyes. My daughter is going to see it firsthand. She pushed the throttle forward, urging her vehicle to move faster. Guidance systems inside the aircar prevented it.
* * *
They traveled for close to thirty minutes. Christy had never seen so many aircars in her life. The entire airway was flooded with them. “Where is everyone going?” she asked.
“We’re going someplace we’ll be safe, honey.”
The statement alarmed Christy. Was she not safe now? The aircar had lowered over the central business district. They were only a dozen meters over a major road leading into the heart of the city. Talin had always been a magical place for Christy but today, the sheer volume of activity overwhelmed her senses. “Can’t we just go home, Mom?”
Her mother was struggling with the aircar controls. “Not yet, baby. Soon.”
Loud sirens began to whine throughout the city. Christy felt the terrible noise vibrate through her chest. “Windstorm!” she cried. She had only heard the sirens at school, when they practiced where to go when a major windstorm struck the city. The pitch of the sirens rose and fell with a mournful quality.
“Hold tight, Christy,” her mother warned.
The aircar lurched as Joan deactivated the nav-guidance. Christy felt herself shoved sideways as the aircar exited the main thoroughfare and commenced a sharp, sweeping turn. A moment later, it hovered over a landing spot before touching down.
“Where are we, Mommy?”
Her mother did not answer. Instead, she reached into the backseat to fetch her datapad. She synched the instrument to her aircar’s navigation system and examined the green route before her. “We’re almost there, honey.”
Christy saw her mother turn to her and smile strangely. “Hey, Christy,” she said. “Let’s race, okay?”
Outside, it seemed as if everyone in Talin was racing. People were running but in all different directions. Even traffic directors and policemen were scrambling with the rest of the people. Christy felt her mother’s hand close around her own and they began to run.
Christy knew that her mother could beat her if she tried although in all their other races, she had always let Christy win. This time, her mother was almost dragging her forward, her little feet touching ground only once every two or three steps. All around her, people ran with them in hysteria. “I don’t want to race anymore,” Christy called out. People were beginning to scream. Seeing adults scream in terror made Christy want to close her eyes tight.
An amorphous shadow was suddenly over them. Where Narvi’s sun had shone one moment, the city became bathed in a morbid twilight. The awful screams grew worse. Christy could barely hear her own whimpering over the din of chaos. They turned a corner and reached their finish line. Her mother released her vice-like grip and Christy was thankful to be finished with the horrible game.
Around her, people were running towards them, desperate to finish second in the peculiar race.
“No!” her mother cried out in anguish. She beat her hands against a locked door.
A man crashed into Christy, knocking her down. Her “Daisy” sunglasses flew from the bridge of her nose. From the ground, she watched the lunatic beat violently upon the same door while screaming obscenities. She felt tears begin to burn down her cheeks.
A primal shriek made Christy look down the street. Dumbstruck, innocent eyes took in the scene in front of her. People wearing funny suits that covered them completely were chasing the racers. There was an aircar accident not far from them and the thickest cloud of insects she had ever seen swarmed overhead. It writhed and swirled like a blanket of hate. Some of the bugs landed on her and began to sting.
“Cover your ears, Christy,” her mother wailed. She folded her arms around her child and covered Christy’s eyes.
Chapter 55
The gavel’s rap against the wood pedestal echoed throughout the nearly empty chamber. President Matthews’ voice was thick with grave concern. “I call this closed, special session to order.”
The Chamber of the General Council contained just six of its seated members. Only New London, Bree, Titan, Lysithea, Ariel and Anthe were present. Not even adjutants and assistants had been permitted inside the room. Off to one side, Minister Fane sat impassively with two cohorts near the perimeter of the chamber floor.
Matthews shot a troubled look at the frail minister before announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, Secretary Neal will give the briefing.”
Jackson Neal and a navy commander stood at the president’s words and stoically walked to the chamber’s main podium. Neal looked soberly at the six core people who governed the Republic. He cleared his throat uncertainly. “Madam and Mister Council Members, one month ago, a Brevic exploration fleet set sail under the NEED provisions on a course for the region of unexplored space down the Tarvos tunnel chain.” He lifted a shaking hand from his side and docked his datapad. “Four dives past the Skathi star system, the fleet encountered a previously unknown sentient, spacefaring alien species.”
No crosstalk sprung from the six representatives or president although anxious expressions appeared on every face that stared back at the speaker.
“This new species attacked our fleet without provocation and aggressively pursued when our ships attempted to retreat. The aliens did not respond to our attempts at communication.”
&nb
sp; Anthe’s representative raised his hand. “What is the nature of this alien race?”
Neal stepped away from the podium gratefully as he looked to the naval officer standing near him. “Commander Caden Twist captained a ship in that fleet. Commander?” He gestured the officer forward.
Twist stepped to the podium and saw the expectant eyes of the Republic on him. His world had been turned upside down in the last week. After reaching Tarvos and relaying Brewer’s recorded message to Neal, the assistant secretary had demanded that the commander accompany him to Bree. In the capital city on the capital planet, Twist had shriveled under the dark, malignant presence of the Minister of Intelligence. Fane’s inquiries had contained questions within questions and Twist had been certain that he would be arrested for treason upon the debriefing’s conclusion. To his surprise, she had instead insisted upon his presence when they briefed the General Council. During the transport across the city, Neal had explained precisely what Twist was permitted to discuss. Citing the need for Republic security, certain aspects of the expeditionary fleet’s mission were off-limits. Additionally, there would be no mention, no hint, that knowledge of the Parasites had been obtained a decade ago.
Twist looked carefully at the newly christened Secretary of Internal Security while tapping the datapad on the podium. Images of the Parasite ships appeared on the enormous wall screen behind him. “The aliens have engineered some truly massive ships. Their super-carrier is over twice as large as a Hollaran fleet carrier, yet able to sail at a quarter of the speed of light.”
A council member muttered, “That’s impossible.”
Twist looked at the plaque on the front of the man’s table. It read New London. “I assure you, sir. This is quite real.” He turned to look at the wall screen. “The other two ships comprise their naval assets. The smaller ship is barely the size of one of our cutters. It possesses simple but effective particle beam technology. The destroyer-sized vessel, however, mounts an unknown weapon of considerable power.”
