Confrontation: Aliens and Humans. Allies and Enemies. (Space Fleet Sagas)

by Don Foxe

  Designed, but failing when Hiro stepped back. Coop’s katana swung through its arc, and into open air.

  Hiro countered with a vertical strike. A vertical cut designed to target the right side of Cooper’s shoulder, and exit through the armpit. The strike began in the same position as the basic overhead cut he used to start the match. He employed leverage with his left hand, tilting the blade slightly onto a diagonal path.

  You can tell a Japanese sword is swung properly by the sound it makes cutting through the air. As his arms extended, momentum should carry the blade through the target, finishing in a position slightly lower than horizontal, finally breaking with the elbows touching the body.

  But Hiro’s arms failed to reach full extension. Coop’s backhand sweep blocked the sword, pushing it away, as he pivoted through the block, spinning to deliver a horizontal slash to his friend’s torso.

  Off balance, the Japanese martial arts master whipped the blade up, backwards and down, catching Coop’s blade before it could complete the sweep.

  The match flowed into a rhythmic dance combining the major categories of Japanese sword training from Iaido, kenjutsu, and kendo. The audience would not discern the differences. At the speed the two crossed swords, there was hardly time between collective gasps, as a blow delivered became blocked, to applause, as one or the other avoided a blow by ducking, or tumbling, or twisting out of the path of an incredibly quick strike.

  Five minutes into the match, Hiro was covered in sweat. Sweat dripped from Coop’s hair, and off the cuffs of his gi. Both men wore headbands, to keep perspiration out of their eyes, and wristbands, to keep their hands dry. This did nothing for the audience, especially those sitting closest to the action, sprayed repeatedly with sweat when arms, legs, and bodies flashed by.

  Two minutes more, and both contestants appeared winded. Despite re-engineered strength, speed, and endurance, the match taxed them. It became more dangerous. In the beginning, despite the speed, and power expended, the two masters always remained under control. As they grew weary, the chance one would get seriously injured increased.

  Looking to finish the match, Hiro leapt high, and launched a front kick at Coop’s sternum. It was a feint to get him to pivot left, or right, and away from the kick. As Coop pivoted on his left foot, Hiro jabbed his sword toward Coop’s unprotected, and now exposed front left side. The thrust did not carry sufficient momentum to cause serious injury, but the blade could nick him, ending the match.

  Coop had no time for a block, and his pivot shifted his balance. He could not pivot a second time before Hiro’s blade landed. He simply collapsed to his knees, folding his upper body back. His body doubled over his heels. Hiro’s front kick crossed overhead. Twisted in the attempt to nick Coop with the tip of his sword, Hiro exposed the left side of his torso. Coop’s raised katana raked along his ribs, leaving a red line, eight-inches in length.

  Cindy’s shrill whistle cut through the mad cheering and foot stomping.

  Cooper let his sword-hand drop. His shoulders pressed to the mat, his heart hammering the inside of his chest.

  Hiro landed, realized he had been cut, and sank to his knees. His head bent forward, forehead against the mat, palms down, keeping him from collapsing. His sword left lying to his side.

  Gregory threw cool, wet towels on top of both men. He lifted Hiro to his feet. Sky and Storm did the same for Coop.

  The Captain, and the doctor faced each other, and bowed.

  Gregory said, “Best ten minutes ever, without a woman or a drink.”

  Captain Cindy Shah took Hiro from Gregory, and whispered in his ear. From the Japanese sword master’s smile, Cooper assumed Hiro was about to have his wound cared for, along with his psyche. When the two walked off together, he became quite sure.

  Gregory watched his first officer, and Hiro leave, then turned his attention back to Cooper.

  “Your two ladies picked up about 1,000 credits,” he told the still-winded captain. “Plus, I made ten-percent on everything wagered. Not a bad day. You stink to high heaven. Could you please go find a shower?”

  “Yes,” Storm whispered, adding a purr, “a shower sounds perfect.”

  Sky agreed. “It does sound good, even though I’m already very wet.”

  CHAPTER 12

  IN THE VOID BETWEEN STAR SYSTEMS

  The 109 traveled within the void of folded space. Science, principally physics, was unable to fully explain the phenomenon of space-fold. The term itself, used more as a metaphor, than a designation. A single sheet of paper could not accurately represent space. Folded, to bring points on the sheet nearer, too simplistic a demonstration of space bent by the crystal array. Time, though not always linear, should remain constant. The Martian array caused the space in front of a ship to compress, or fold. It concurrently compacted time. The result actually space-fold-time-abridged travel. While scientists on Earth and Mars attempted to discover explanations, the John F. Kennedy simply employed it to journey between star systems in days, instead of centuries.

  Captain Cooper, in the command chair, taking his bridge shift, watched the people around him at work. A crew had little to accomplish while in space-fold. It was instructive to observe how people utilized their time. Everyone engaged improving their systems, their control, and their reaction times. He had not called for a drill. This was self-improvement.

  The current bridge crew would have the same station assignments when the 109 arrived at the Quentle system. Captain Javaari Canedee's presence, the one exception. Canedee, a Mischene military officer captured and held by the Zenge, was among the captives freed during the Star Gazer battle.

  “Are you finding your time aboard instructive, Captain Canedee?” Coop asked.

  The dark skin, white-haired alien turned his attention away from the communications console. Storm currently monitored coms. Canedee observed her work, from over her shoulder, for several minutes.

  “Extremely, Captain Cooper,” he responded. “I volunteered for your mission, hoping my experience fighting the Zenge would be valuable. I am impressed with the quality of your ship’s armaments. Your space-fold travel is incredible. If the Mischene had such technology, we would have stopped the Zenge in the Aster system.”

  “Mischene battlecruisers, commandeered, and used against us during the fight in our own system, nearly defeated us,” Coop admitted. “Your technology is not far removed from our own.”

  “True. Mischene vessels have traversed space for nearly five thousand years. Your species is only beginning to make interstellar trips. Your ability to travel without the limits of wormholes, and possession of weapons of incredible power trump experience. And you defeated those Mischene battlecruisers.”

  “Operated by Zenge,” Coop reminded him. “I’m sure it would have been much more difficult had seasoned Mischene commanders been in charge.”

  “Most likely,” the alien officer replied.

  “Captain Canedee, you have experience with the Zenge, and as an experienced commander, any suggestions regarding my bridge? If the Zenge already occupy the Quentle system, those you see now will face the initial engagement.”

  “Your people appear competent. Your navigation officer is Bosine. Not regarded as a confrontational race. The pilot appears young, and I would surmise, inexperienced. A scientist, and a science station are inconsequential.

  “Col. Kebede is well-qualified to command systems, though I would place an officer of her experience in charge of Operations and Tactics. ASkiilamentrae has proven her merit, but her experience in battle is limited to the single event with the Zenge.” Canedee ignored Sky’s darkening hue.

  “AStermalanlan, on the other hand, is the perfect operative for communications. Fell exceed in such technology.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your insight.” Coop added nothing more.

  “It is why I volunteered to accompany you, Captain. If there is nothing more?”

  “Nothing.”

  The tall, thin, erect Mischene d
eparted the bridge. The door closed, and Kebede said, “Prick.”

  Giggles and snorts sounded agreements with the Ethiopian’s assessment.

  “I asked his opinion,” Coop reminded them. “Harper, I don’t care about your age, but you do lack experience.” He addressed the youngest on the bridge. “I want you to study everything available regarding Zenge attack strategies, as well as anything Yauni can teach you about the Quentle system. You have nearly four days before we exit space-fold, and access to a simulator in the training center. Use your down time wisely.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. “Thank you, Captain. I will be ready.”

  “Fallenitsch, I’ve seen the after-action reports for the Star Gazer crew. The Captain underestimates the Bosine. You handle battle conditions exceptionally well.

  “Dr. Aziza, Captain Canedee does not realize everything you bring to the table. Your fields of expertise include bio-chemistry, as well as chemical engineering.”

  “They do,” she confirmed.

  “When we enter the Quentle system, I want you to monitor bridge personnel vitals. If anyone becomes over-stimulated, dehydrated, expends too many chemicals, or gets close to the edge, your job is to bring them down. You know better than anyone aboard what excitement, fear, and stress can do to someone’s personal chemistry. When you see warning signs, address them. Can you do that?”

  “Of course, Captain. I will have Kennedy configure my station to monitor external conditions, as well as the bio-chemical levels of everyone on the command bridge. Will you want me to inform you first of any concerns?”

  “Not if we are under battle conditions,” Coop replied. “Take any concerns directly to the person. Feedback alone is generally sufficient to regain control. If someone looks like they may need replacement, inform Kennedy. I want a back-up on site before they’re needed, not arriving too late.”

  He addressed the bridge. “You heard. If you take it past the limits necessary to function properly, I will replace you, and I will not accept any bullshit. If I put in a back-up, get the hell out of the way. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir” answered a chorus.

  “May I speak with you privately?” Dr. Aziza asked.

  “Col. Kebede, you have command. Doctor, we can meet in my office.” He invited her to precede him through the door connecting the bridge to his workspace.

  Coop offered a chair to the chemist, who politely declined. Coop took his seat behind his desk.

  “You do not know me, Captain, but I know of you.”

  “I’m afraid the entire world knows of me, Dr. Aziza. Not by any desire on my part for fame, but I’ve made the news too many times.”

  “True, but what I know of you is from before your Space Ranger Project. My mother was among the girls you rescued in Ajej, from the murderers and rapists called Allah’s Hand. To this day, she speaks of you with awe, if not love. She told her children about the shadows who came in from the desert to rescue thirty girls taken from their school in Tatouine.”

  “Tunisia,” Coop said aloud. “I had forgotten your home is Tunisia. I hope your mother is well.”

  “Well, and overwhelmed with pride her daughter flies into space with her hero." Aziza sat, having gotten the introduction out, and her nerves under control. She was a plain woman, not pretty or ugly, and did little to accentuate her looks. Dark olive skin, and a straight, strong nose. Dark eyes, and heavy eyebrows. Black hair pulled back into a bun. She was thin, but not bony. “I am honored to serve with you, Captain, and happy to discover after three decades, you appear to be the same type of man my Mother knew. I would appreciate it if you would consider calling me Dorra.”

  “Of course, Dorra. If I remember my Arabic, Dorra means pearl.”

  “You remember well, Captain,” Aziza answered with a radiant smile.

  “Coop, Dorra. Fair is fair. Call me Coop, unless the situation requires something more formal,” he replied, also smiling.

  “I will return to my station, . . . Coop. I would like to begin having Kennedy design bio-scan icons, and readings for the bridge crew. I am sure the ship’s doctor can provide baselines for everyone,” Dorra said, standing. “Again, thank you,” she said, as she headed for the door.

  “Just do your best, Dorra. No need to thank me for keeping you on station.”

  “I thank you for saving my mother. Without you, there would be no her, and without her, no me,” Dorra replied, and left.

  Sky came through the door.

  “Do you agree with the Mischene? I should not oversee Operations?”

  “I do not.”

  “You told the others he was wrong about them, but said nothing about what he said about me.” Her skin hue had turned a deep shade of blue. Her blood pressure rising with her anger.

  “There was no need,” Coop told her. “You flew by my side when we engaged the Zenge. I know exactly what you are capable of, and as Sindy pointed out, Canedee is a prick. A well informed prick,” he added. “He seems to have learned a lot about the ship, and the crew.”

  “You do not intend on replacing me at Ops?” Sky’s coloring retreated a shade.

  “Of course not, Sky. Return to you station. You’re Ops now, and when we arrive.”

  Mollified, she nodded, and returned to the bridge.

  Cooper took a moment to consider the minor confrontation. He had to treat Sky, and Storm, as members of the ship’s crew. He also needed to remember, as aliens, they were still learning protocols. They were also civilians, unfamiliar with military procedures. They were lovers, and equals within their relationship. Elie may have hit the mark. Did he maintain the personal relationship with the two women for the distraction they provided? Were they distracting him from his responsibilities?

  CHAPTER 13

  Two hours prior to scheduled space-fold exit, Coop returned to the bridge.

  “The Quentle system appears quiet, Captain.” Kebede reported. External scans operated from inside space-fold, but a method for communications remained elusive. Audio, visual, or digital messaging failed to enter, or escape a space-fold bubble. A compelling problem for Space Fleet’s science department, but without solution to this point in the evolution of space travel.

  Rys, the fourth planet from its star, and the only inhabited world of the six in the system. The others composed of dirt, dust, and rock, except number six, a gas giant. Two moons orbited Rys, each approximately half the size of Earth’s moon. Both moons accommodated artificial-environment mining colonies. The planet maintained a Class-G (Goldilocks) human-friendly biosphere. At two-thirds the size of Earth, a point-eight-nine gravity existed due to its dense mineral composition. Mix of vegetation. Fresh water lakes, rivers, and saline oceans. Mix of topography. More mountainous zones than Earth, but a more stable crust, and less tectonic movement. Only a couple of active volcanoes found on the entire planet.

  “Any unusual activity around the planet?” Cooper asked.

  Kebede answered, keeping eyes on the holo-screen above her console. “Scans detect two substantial space stations. One in fixed orbit above the North pole, and one over the South pole. At this distance, I cannot confirm the number of ships docked. Scans indicate life-sign readings, but too much interference to give you numbers.”

  She swiped her hand through the display, and flicked her fingers to create a wider view of the solar system.

  “Other than natural objects within the solar system, there are satellites, and buoys, but I cannot tell you their purposes. A wormhole gate is within one-million miles of the planet, but scans indicate no ship activity anywhere in the system.”

  “That is strange,” Sky interposed. “Gate access within a few days travel for most ships, means this is a prime trading time for Rys. It is also a strategically important opportunity for a Zenge attack.”

  “Any signs of an attack?” Coop asked Sky, currently analyzing operational, and tactical scans.

  “There’s no space debris. Some scattered ion signatures, traces of plasma, but nothing to
indicate a ship entering or exiting via the wormhole in the last forty-eight hours. Thermal blooms appear on both moons, and on the planet. Consistent with generators, power crystal discharges, or something as simple as over-sized heating systems. No explosive residue, and no residuum from engines designed for space flight. No signs of an attack.”

  Sky turned to look directly at Coop, assuring she held his full attention before continuing. “Again, I find the lack of vessels disturbing. We should see activity, especially with the wormhole near the planet. Someone should have used the gate in the last two days.”

  “Noted,” Cooper replied. “Kennedy, after we drop out of space-fold at the system’s rim, we will immediately re-engage for in-system travel. Have Yauni, and Judge Korr report to the bridge one hour before our scheduled arrival at Rys. I want them present, and prepared to make contact with the authorities when we emerge.”

  “Yes, sir,” the AI replied.

  Coop appeared serene in the command chair, watching the digital display count down the time until space-fold exit. He made a dangerous decision, requesting a course with an arrival point 100,000 miles from Rys.

  They would reenter natural space in a position half-as-close as the nearest moon. The gravitational wells within a solar system could wreak havoc on a ship operating with space-fold. The system-to-system navigation plotted their rim arrival to a point where the system’s edge was nearest Rys. This address placed other major orbital bodies on the opposite side of the planet. Kennedy calculated their in-system re-entry within the planet’s exosphere fell within safe parameters. Barely.

  The digital display read 1:01:15, when the bridge door opened. The tall Lisza Kaugh, and the petite Ventierran entered. Coop stood to greet them.

  “Judge Korr, Yauni, we arrive at Rys in one hour. I suspect they will be rather shocked at having an unknown ship suddenly appear in their personal space. Yauni, I hope your appearance will calm them, and, Judge Korr, I hope your history with the people of Rys will work in our favor.”