by Don Foxe
“Now I need to get dressed.” Neither woman moved. They did not offer to turn their backs. They did unwrap the bars, and settled side-by-side on an open bunk for the show too start.
Resigned, Cooper retrieved a fresh set of black fatigues, socks, underwear, and a fresh t-shirt to wear under his gray combat sweater. He dropped the towel and dressed. The two women munched on their bars as they enjoyed the show.
After Coop laced his boots, they made their way to the cabin in the command sphere, where ASkiilamentrae could change into fresh clothes. Turn-about being fair, he and AStermalanlan sat side-by-side on a bunk and watched. He discovered the lovely alien a lot less shy about being seen nude.
They reviewed reports regarding Zenge attacks for the remainder of the morning. Cooper held off on the attack of Fell. He wanting more background before assessing that engagement, since he had two eye-witnesses.
They returned to Angel 7 for a lunch break, the two women enjoying jerky with an MRE (Meals Ready to Eat) pouch of beef stew. Cooper attempted to make the pre-packaged food palatable by using hot water and seasonings. While it did not have the same effect as the jerky, it was a welcomed warm meal.
They departed the ship and he turned on the forcefield, when a commotion across the bay caught his attention. He moved quickly to investigate. His two guards, half way across the hangar, suddenly realized he had gone a different direction.
The commotion was caused by a fight, and a growing number of Bosine and Posine cheering the two combatants. About to push through to intervene, ASkiilamentrae grabbed his arm, and said, “Wait. It is only practice.”
“I thought the Bosine were a non-aggressive race,” he said to his right. She stood there, and AStermalanlan on his left. Intent on the contest, those watching and cheering the two fighters did not noticed them.
“Some of the younger ones asked us to teach them how to fight,” ASkiilamentrae explained. “We have been showing them basic techniques in hand-to-hand combat, and they train every day by holding these fights. It is a way for them to overcome their passive nature. The more they fight, the more fighting becomes natural. The ones who win the most fights move on to more intense training.”
“Therefore making those who are weaker, or slower, or not as quick to learn to lose confidence, and give up,” Coop said, watching the fight, not the Fellen. “If you want to build fighters, the weakest are as important as the strongest. Those who are not as quick, or big, or strong must be taught to use other talents. Together you create an army, not a squad. Build the army first, and then start creating smaller, unique units.”
“That would work if there were a thousand Fellen teaching 100,000 Bosine. In this case there are two of us and 200,000 of them,” ASkiilamentrae said. “Even though less than one hundred requested training, there isn’t time for anything but the basics. I wish it were not this way, but it is what it is.”
The biggest Bosine he had seen, at least six-foot six and 260 pounds, held a smaller boy up by his ears. The boy was about Coop’s height, but less than 140 pounds. He felt the need to teach the bigger one a lesson, but ASkiilamentrae kept her hand on his arm. He turned and headed to the lift, the two Fellen hurrying to catch up. Those wanting to learn to fight, and getting the snot kicked out of them, would either get stronger or quit. It tore at the core of his training; from martial arts as a child, to Army then Ranger school, Space Rangers, and finally Fleet Flight School. To turn his back on those wanting, even needing to learn was against his nature, but at the moment he needed to prepare for a bigger battle. Priorities sucked.
When they reached the cabin assigned the women, AStermalanlan did not follow them in. “There are video clips of the Zenge attacking Fell. They are on the Command Bridge in Captain Poonch’s secure safe. I will retrieve them and return.”
Cooper closed the door and turned into a full embrace and kiss by ASkiilamentrae. Pulling away, she said, “I don’t want us to fight. I know the combat by the Bosine disturbed you. I know we have done them no favors by teaching them only how to fight, and not how to win.”
Coop returned the kiss, and while his blood pressure stayed high, it was no longer because of the fight in the bay.
“I understand the problem dropped on you, ASkiilamentrae. I know you were trying to fill a need. I’m not angry with you or AStermalanlan. I’m angry with a universe that is supposed to be smarter, and more advanced, and more civilized than the world I come from, is torn apart by conflict. People are dying in horrible ways. People are about to die from something as stupid as hunger. I’m pissed, but not at you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered into his neck, and nibbled a little.
“May I ask you something?” Pushing her away, but maintaining contact.
She titled her head to look up into his eyes. “Yes?” An answer and a question in her tone.
“ASkiilamentrae is a beautiful name . . .”
“It means Free to Fly,” she said. “The AS is our tribe, and it means Free. AStermalanlan is my cousin, and her name means Free to Travel.”
“Again, beautiful names, but a bit long for me. May I call you Sky? It is what we call a nickname on Earth. A special name among friends and family. One not as formal.”
“Sky,” she said. “My translator recognizes SKY as the atmosphere which surrounds a planet. You would use this nickname?”
“Your name is AS - sky — La - men — tray, so, yes; Sky. If it’s agreeable to you?”
“Sky,” she said aloud, trying to get her mind around the name change. “I like it. You may call me Sky.”
“And please start calling me Coop. It’s what my friends call me.”
AStermalanlan returned with the video on something akin to a thumbnail, but smaller. It fit into a slot in the desk shared between the bunks.
Without prompting, the heads-up came to life, and the video displayed a perspective from a Fellen space ship.
“My father’s ship, ASpannash; Free Bird,” AStermalanlan said, misty eyed.
In the distance about fifty dots became fifty ships of various sizes, and shapes. Behind them, at least another fifty dots growing larger.
“The Zenge confiscated ships from every world they attack. They equipped some of those ships with laser cannons, and added them to their armadas,” Sky said. Her mouth pinched, and anger radiating from her. “They have no real plan. No great strategy. They throw everything they have at an enemy to overwhelm them.”
The cabin walls became bathed in the flashing lights of strobes from lasers fired and muzzle flares. A lot of cannons with a lot of lasers. The heads-up display would flash and flicker, as lasers hit the forcefield of the ASpannash.
“Most Fellen ships are a combinations of trader and fighter. We make sure other worlds are aware we will protect our goods. Two laser cannons on the smaller local patrol ships, and up to eight on larger transports. ASpannash is one of the largest Fellen ships, possessing eight laser cannons. She can also fire rockets from two traditional launchers.”
“Was,” AStermalanlan corrected her cousin. “ASpannash was the largest ship in our fleet. The Zenge sent over one hundred ships at our twenty-four. My father destroyed no fewer than fifteen alone, but the constant strikes by their lasers beat us down. Our energy systems could not sustain the levels needed to fight, and maintain shields. Eventually weaknesses in the forcefields allowed lasers to penetrate the ship’s hull. Many were killed. The engines disabled.”
Sky took up the tale. “Uncle ASkiiumterel got as many of his crew into shuttles and escape pods as possible. He personally placed us in the shuttle the Osperantue recovered at the multi-point. Only a few pods, like ours, included wormhole capability. Most pods are lifeboats. They simply escape into space, awaiting another ship to rescue them. Another few had the capability of return flight to the surface.”
AStermalanlan took over again: “Father would not leave his ship. We, along with dozens of others, slipped out from the hangars and pod-berths. We watched as Fellen ship after ship was worn
down and destroyed. When the ASpannash was cut in two by a dozen Zenge ships, we entered the nearest wormhole gate. The one taking us to the multi-point.”
As the two recalled the action, the video emphasized the size and scope of the attack. Coop watched Zenge ships swarm a Fellen ship, pounding it until escape pods shot away and the ship began to disintegrate under the relentless fire. The Zenge ships used escape pods for target practice. Many of the ships trying to reach Fell were tracked down, disabled, or destroyed. Always by multiple Zenge ships.
“We think other wormhole-capable ships escaped into channels. Fell was at a point in its orbit where three gateways were within easy distance. I don’t think any of our main ships tried to escape,” Sky said. “They fought until the end.”
“Three gateways?” Coop asked. Curious, but also hoping to get their minds away from the loss of family and fellows.
“End,” Sky said, and the display disappeared. She was, once again, sitting cross-legged on her bunk. Her cousin sat beside her, but with her spine against the bulkhead, her legs straight out in front of her, and feet hanging off the edge.
“Thousands of wormhole gateways have been charted throughout the known galaxy. Each gateway is the entry and exit for a channel. Channels do not open within solar systems. Gateways are predominant near the edge of a solar system. Just like the gate we came through near the planetoid you call Pluto. Pluto’s orbit brought it near the wormhole.
“Merchants, traders, and travelers know when a planet is within proximity to a wormhole gate. To exit a wormhole, when the destination planet is too distant, is a waste of time. Sub-light engines can only power a ship so fast. Even the fastest ships in the universe only reach about .00025 sl, or about 167,000 mph. Most ships travel much slower. This cruise ship is currently at 40,000 mph. If it were at full energy capacity, and carrying a normal load, maybe 50,000 mph. The average warship will travel at 70,000 to 85,000 mph.
“The longest sub-light trip a merchant would care to make is a month. If they carry perishable goods, then maybe a week’s distance. Captains plan trips to other worlds based on which channels they will use, and how near the final channel gate it is to the destination. Exactly how near depends on the planet’s orbit around its star. When a planet is within one to two-million miles of a gateway, then ships from a dozen worlds may descend on them with trade goods and visitors. Because the planet does not stop its orbit, closer is better, because ships must reach the world, and leave again while the gateway is within range to make the return journey acceptable.”
Sky continued her tutorial. AStermalanlan kept watching her feet, remembering her father and family left behind.
“Most inhabited planets are within two to four planets of a star. This means they have relatively short orbits. Your Earth takes 365 days to circle your star. Every 335 to 395 days, as your planet passes near a wormhole, trading days would peak.
“Dwarfs account for seventy-percent of the stars in the galaxy. The majority of worlds advanced enough to use interstellar travel are located around a dwarf star. As such, they have relatively short orbits and are frequently available for visitors. They usually exist in smaller solar systems as well, so wormhole gate are closer.”
“For different plants to have orbits that brought them near a gate would mean wormholes are not static,” Coop said. “Earth’s orbit will never bring it this far into space.”
“Correct,” Sky agreed with his observation. “But the planet’s orbit will take it to a point where it is less effected by the gravity influences of other bodies within the solar system. This is where the wormhole will be nearest Earth. Wormholes are effected by gravity. They are as predictable as the orbits of planets within a system.”
AStermalanlan joined the conversation.
“Your star is a larger type. A giant. One day it will burn out into a super nova. Dwarf stars, like the one Fell orbits, will exist much longer. Your solar system, by comparison to the average, is dirty. It is full of planets, and planetoids, and debris, and stuff,” she said. “The wormhole we came through was nearly impassible with debris from what you call the Kuiper Belt. Because this ship uses only poor sub-light engines, and wormholes do not exist inside of systems, we will likely never reach Earth.”
Her morbid thoughts had brought the young woman down from her normal positive high. She still provided detailed, intelligent comments to help him grasp galactic norms. It made Coop realize she was more than a pretty face with a happy demeanor.
Coop made decisions quickly. He already admired and trusted the Fellen, but he was a fleet officer. Daniel Cooper’s life as career military meant keeping things from friends and enemies, alike. He did not tell them humans had developed engines that could propel larger ships at .08sl, and ships like Angel 7 could reach .11sl within the solar system. They knew Earth vessels engaged space-fold, but they were not fully aware of the capabilities such a drive system provided.
He also did not tell them his hope was the 109 would return with space-fold engines they could installed on the Star Gazer. If the ship could be fitted, they would reach Mars before supplies ran out. The Fellen only expected enough supplies to sustain them for an extended voyage.
“The Zenge plan their attacks around proximity to wormholes as well,” he said. “They flood a system with ships designed or redesigned for battle.”
He recalled reports from the Star Gazer’s logs. The same basic attack happened to Osperantue. Nothing subtle about their invaders’ strategy. Hit hard. Hit with overwhelming numbers. The Zenge did not practice tactical warfare. Watching the video, and matching what he had seen to the descriptions in the logs, he surmised the Zenge did not act as if they were in space. They lined up and came at their objective in waves.
While unsophisticated in their attacks, those they attacked were equally unsophisticated in response. They set up a defensive perimeter to protect their planet, then sat back and awaited the onslaught. With only a short amount of time to prepare for an invasion, and because the trading alliance members were merchants, the lightly armored worlds attacked by the Zenge were destined to fall.
Compiled descriptions described the Zenge as a lizard-like species. Where the Fellen seemed to evolve from a feline ancestry. The Zenge, if not simple-minded, appeared single-minded.
According to the records, an average Zenge stood five-foot six inches and weighed about 300 pounds. Bodies armored by scales and muscle. Eyes set high on a narrow forehead above an elongated snout. They had two rows of sharp teeth. Thick necks transitioned into stout bodies. They had short arms and hands with elongated fingers. Short legs and wide, flat feet. No tails, so not exactly a crocodile, but not too far off.
This species were meat eaters, and the most disturbing report said they used the captured as slaves and food.
Whatever induced them to attack part of the galaxy was unknown. They refitted captured ships for battle, but seemed to care little about any advanced technology beyond weapons and engines. They had been known to use captured translation rings, but only transmitted truncated orders or demands. There were insufficient samples of Zenge speech to convert their language.
No reports in the Star Gazer logs mentioned anyone escaping a captured planet after Zenge armies landed. On the positive side, though Cooper kept this to himself, while Earth was a relative late arrival to space travel, humans seemed to have both stumbled upon and created superior technology to alien civilizations traversing the galaxy for thousands of years.
Humans could fold space/time, and travel that way from any point to any other point in space, whether inside a solar system or though the expanses. Humans possessed sub-light engines powerful enough to travel two or three times faster than similar-sized alien ships. Humans survived a history of warfare, and through necessity developed weapons far beyond laser cannons. Kings and Conquerors on Earth had developed strategies and tactics for fighting superior numbers. Civilizations, to continue, created defensive strategies for survival. More topical, because humans combined
warlike ancestry with a desire to rise above such savagery, over the past thirty years the military’s best and brightest minds developed space-oriented battle plans.
The Zenge saw space as a land war fought in the air.
Space was far more multi-dimensional. In the void, no up or down; no floor or ceiling. No forces of friction or inertia to prevent a ship from performing actions which could never occur anywhere else. There were gravity wells that could assist or destroy an action. Space Fleet had spent more than thirty years war-gaming for space. Evidently, the other sentient lifeforms in this part of the galaxy had not. The one that did go on offense selected the simplest formula . . . beat the enemy with numbers. They may use laser cannons, but they used them as hammers.
Even with better weapons, strategies, and equipment, Earth had a major shortage . . . a shortage of ships ready for space; ready for battle. The 109 would return alone. It would take six months before another PT-Boat entered service. More than a year before the two battle wagons under construction on MSD would launch.
More ships would follow, but not many more. There was a finite number of crystals used in the space-fold arrays found within the Martian hangar. Search teams found no more, and geologists did not believe the crystals native to Mars.
This information Cooper did not share. He could not overcome his military training and the need-to-know compulsion. He saw no reason to dash any hopes the Osperantue or the Fellen had . . . not yet.
They broke for dinner. Cooper provided a small store of protein bars and MREs. Sky and AStermalanlan would not need to make the trip to Angel for every meal. They would not miss a meal, or share the diminishing supplies aboard the Star Gazer. All three opted for simple protein bars.
