Space Fleet Sagas Foundation Trilogy: Books One, Two, and Three in the Space Fleet Sagas

by Don Foxe

  Mags placed her hand where Coop’s had rested and said, “Hello, Cassandra, I am Magpie.” She backed away and asked, “Now what?”

  “Tell her it’s you and tell her what you want,” he said.

  “Cassandra, this is Magpie. Please open the entry hatch.”

  They could hear the soft pop as the elevator motor opened the hatch on top of the ship.

  “I’m not a Space Ranger grad,” she told Coop. “I can’t jump up on that wing the way you jumped down.”

  “Tell her to lower the ladder,” he instructed.

  “Lower the ladder,” and she hesitated for a moment before adding, “please.”

  The retractable ladder emerged from the rear edge of the delta wing and dropped to the ground.

  “You don’t have to be that polite,” Cooper said, “but it’s always a good idea anyway. You know how women can be.” Then he became serious. “Mags, you are welcome to inspect and inquire, but do not take Cassandra up until I get back and I’m in the cockpit with you. Promise.”

  Mags crossed her heart with her right index finger and held three fingers up. “Cross my heart and hope to die, scout’s honor,” she said.

  Coop and Hiro both laughed at her. “Cindy, you can join her if you want. Mags can now allow access. Hiro,” he said, turning to the man, “I’m ready if you are.”

  The AS tribe’s new village sat a little more than one-hundred miles from Harmony. The hover craft would arrive in less than an hour.

  “It’s as if I never left,” Coop said.

  “Except you missed an entire war,” Hiro replied. “And something I found out you should know. The Zenge are not what you think.”

  “My memory is fine, Hiro. I know the Mischene control the Zenge.”

  “Exactly,” the Japanese said. “They control the Zenge. I have spent many hours with the prisoners on Fell. They are not savage, kill-crazy demons. Fewer than ten-percent actually believe in the Prophet. The truly radicalized Zenge would have been dangerous to others on their home world, had the Mischene never arrived. If not forced by the Prophet’s soldiers and priests, the vast majority of Zenge would return to a simple existence.”

  “What about the killing sprees?”

  “They believed all aliens are like the Mischene,” Hiro replied. “When given the chance to kill, they killed. The more we have contact, even though imprisoned, the more they understand not all non-Zenge are sadists. ”

  “You believe them?”

  “The Zenge once lived in cities. They used technology, invented machines, and developed methods of producing crops and raising animals. They did not understand that the methods also destroyed nutrients in the soil, and created animals no longer capable of reproduction. I believe had humans continued to over-use our planet, we would have much more in common with the Zenge. The Mischene discovered a civilization at the end of a self-created apocalypse. With a little assistance, and access to two new worlds, they would happily return to a simple lifestyle. They would be just as happy that aliens never visited again.”

  “And the ten-percent?” Coop asked, watching the canopy of trees passed beneath the craft.

  “Those fighting with the Prophet would die in his service. Those left in the system, if the Prophet and his fist were removed, would be taken care of, one way or another.”

  “You’re working from a small sample, Hiro. A few hundred prisoners may not be indicative of a billion Zenge,” Coop warned.

  “I believe the ones imprisoned here do represent the ninety-percent,” the Japanese answered. “Human histories on Earth, and the races we have encountered in the short time since your first contact with the Star Gazer are examples that the majority of any civilized species prefer a peaceful existence over war. In the beginning, the Fell wanted to execute every Zenge captured, yet we know Fellen are fierce when necessary, but peaceful by nature. The prisoners have been treated well, once Anton promised to behead anyone who attempted to harm them.”

  “Sounds like Anton,” Coop said, unable to prevent the smile.

  “They are few, but they can become ambassadors for change, Coop,” Hiro continued. “They can help us.”

  “I’ll pass it along,” he promised. “By the way, Pam is Fleet Admiral again.”

  This time Hiro could not repress a smile.

  If not for coordinates entered into a nav system leading to the round opening in the forest canopy, no one would find the village created by a few thousand Fellen.

  Hiro landed and the two men stepped away from the small hover ship. Several members of the tribe reset the poles used to project camouflage. From the sky, the hole in the forest would no longer be visible.

  Coop was nearly tackled off his feet by Sky’s youngest sister, ASarasha. Her parents, older sister, Star and her daughter, Storm’s parents and siblings, and what appeared to include the entire tribe closed in on the ship.

  Recovering from Sarah’s enthusiastic greeting, Coop watched the crowd part for Sky. As beautiful as he remembered, the statuesque warrior took her time, but never wavered from her course. She wrapped herself around him, crushed his lips with hers, and would have dug her nails into his back if not for the protection of the armored undershirt.

  “We waited dinner for you,” Silla, Sky’s mother, said. Forewarned by Hiro. “We can wait a little longer. Coop, go and take a hot shower. ASkiilamentrae can show you to your hut. Master Kimura will be provided a hut as well.”

  “Master Kimura?” Coop, released from the kiss, asked with a smirk.

  “It is because of my new martial arts school,” Hiro said. “It is tradition.”

  “It is pretentious,” Coop replied, still smiling.

  “I informed Cindy and Mags we will spend the night here,” Hiro told him, changing the topic. “They know we will wait for Storm and Sparks. We can leave together at dawn and they will meet us at Cassandra.”

  “Cassandra?” Sky asked. “Another woman?”

  “My new ship,” Coop said assuringly. He needed to figure out a way of getting Cassie to lower her WOW factor by about a million before introducing her. Difficult since he already told her she should look the way she thought she should look. The look, a combination of a Greek Goddess and every woman he ever found attractive might be a bit difficult to explain.

  Sky’s family and extended family ushered her and Coop through the mob to a small hut snug beneath a towering tree. Hiro, followed by, well, hero-worshipping Fellen, was shown to another hut near by.

  Coop and Sky were pushed into the hut and the door shut soundly behind them. There is a moment when an absence seems forever and gone in a second. After that brief second they got out of their clothes and into each other. They experienced the excitement and comfort in the heated arousal of rediscovery. An hour later they shared a hot shower.

  The two emerged, his skinned flushed and hers a deep blue, neither caused by warm water. Sarah escorted them to a campfire where Hiro sat with a plate of food.

  “Couldn’t wait?” Coop asked, sitting beside his friend.

  “Second helpings,” Hiro replied. “Everyone snuck food after the two of you entered the hut. We weren’t sure if you would actually come back out. And I was hungry,” he ended, using his fingers to pop a veggie-looking thing in his mouth.

  The evening ended with a meal and campfire stories. Added to the tales of Hiro the Ninja, and Captain Cooper of Earth, were more adventures in the growing legends of ASkiilamentrae, the one called Sky, and AStermalanlan, the Fellen Storm. Both beautiful, battle-tested, and bright. Inventing technology to help defeat the Zenge horde, and stories of battles, as they crossed the globe to save others. Often fighting with the Ninja Hiro, and more often outnumbered.

  A runner approached ASilla with a message, who passed it to Star. She left, taking several of the tribe with her.

  “AStermalanlan and ASparilla are about to land,” she informed the others.

  All heard the hover craft fly over, land, and the engines cycle off. Coop stood, deciding he wo
uld go meet them. He received a body tackle for the second time, this time ending flat on his back. Storm landed on top, her mouth kissing, sucking, and biting while her hands stroked, groped, and grasped him. She did not care who or how many watched.

  Sky, Hiro, and the majority of the people around the fire laughed out loud.

  Storm, without a word yet spoken, stood, yanked Coop to his feet, and pulled him to the hut beneath the tree.

  If not for the genetic alterations, which allowed him the remarkable ability to recuperate, the next hour with Storm, following the time with Sky, would have killed him.

  CHAPTER 24

  Aster Farum 3

  A musky odor permeated the command bunker. Water rationing left none for washing clothes or bodies. The sonic cleaners could only do so much. Food rationing made everyone weak and foul tempered.

  Baynard Lexton sat at the command desk alone, watching the world burn in high definition. Military units remained restricted to camps and fortifications where they stood a chance of holding the Zenge at bay. The police and armed civilians in cities, towns, and villages did not have the option. They fought the invaders in streets and buildings. Mischene stood alone and in small groups against hundreds of cold-blooded, frightening lizard-like creatures. The people of AF3 lost time and time again. They died or retreated. Some escaped into forests and mountain lairs. As cities emptied, buildings burned, the smoke rose above the planet’s surface like a dark death wreath.

  Admiral Nan entered and joined Lexton at the desk. He watched flames devour a city block before saying, “The Prophet’s ships remain between us and Aster Farum 2. They’ve taken over the two outermost moon colonies, but do not seem in a hurry to move beyond Aster Farum 3.”

  “Any sign of the troop carriers returning with more of the Zenge?” Lexton asked.

  “No, but they could at any time. They have several wormhole gates to choose from. How are the ground forces holding up?”

  “We can’t protect anything beyond military installations,” Lexton replied. “It appears Soren is allowing people to surrender. He keeps showing up on broadcasts proclaiming himself as the one true prophet, and their future leader. Thousands, if not millions of Mischene continue to turn themselves in. I’m not sure of the fate of the other races. He’s made a point of not mentioning anyone but Mischene in his speeches.”

  “If Amos Soren were still alive,” Nan began, “I wonder what he would think of his grand scheme? His own ships attacking Aster Farum 3. His son doing to him what he planned on doing to others.”

  Baynard Lexton nodded in agreement with the elder Fleet officer. “We became caught up in his vision of a Mischene Empire, and we lost sight of everything else. I lost sight,” he said sadly. “How did we fall so fast?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t fast,” Nan replied. “Devee witchcraft kept him alive longer than his detractors. He used time and resources for his propaganda to influence an entire race. As one generation replaced the next, and his message remained pure and unchanged, they grew up believers. Soren did not convert us to a radical position, he bottle-fed us, educated us, and employed us in his quest for manifest destiny.

  “Now his son is poised to take the next step. Atticus Soren is completely insane. He actually believes he is the Creator’s voice, the Sacred Prophet of the Tahbita. He does not have his father’s patience or self-control. He is a blunt instrument.”

  “A blunt instrument about to hammer our world flat,” Lexton added.

  Captain Covane entered the command room. Her hair damp with sweat, her uniform shirt stained and wrinkled. Deep-set eyes reflected her lack of rest.

  “Admirals,” she said in greeting, a lot less formal than before the conflict and the forced conditions of the bunker. “I may have a way to get a message to Earth.”

  “Don’t leave us in suspense, Covane,” Lexton said.

  “Major Willmer provided much of the information,” she began. “Governor Soren financed scientists and engineers to find a method to engineer a wormhole. They produced some limited success.”

  “If you mean ships that made it through a temporary generated wormhole, and crews that did not,” Lexton said, and continued, “then, yes, limited success. They could not determine how long a ship would travel inside a newly created wormhole, or exactly where it might emerge. The artificial wormhole might or might not remain viable until the ship using it exited. We do not have the time to hope for a ship to create and navigate a wormhole. I also do not believe we have access to a ship with the engineering for such a feat.”

  “We do not,” Covane agreed. “We do have access to the latest experiment derived from the failures. There is a special drone on AF 2’s Moon Base Three. The drone includes a small, but powerful negative matter generator. It is designed to facilitate communications between systems. The drone creates a wormhole, and because of its size and speed, can take a quarter of the time a ship would in standard wormhole travel.”

  “A wormhole to where?” Lexton asked, the question sarcastic.

  “The guidance software developers believe they have enough data from the failed attempts to accurately project a path. The drone is directed to coordinates, and once there, the negative matter generator opens a gate. The opening is aimed toward the intended destination. A timer is started before the drone leaves natural space, and the timer shuts down the negative matter when the drone is projected to reach the rim of the targeted solar system. An exit gate opens.”

  “What are you suggesting, Captain?” Nan asked directly.

  “We place our request for assistance, and all of the data we have on the Prophet, the Zenge and their forces in Aster system into a drone. We include the secret plans regarding the Zenge project from Governor Soren’s files. We store all of this in a gas tube, provide the coordinates for the Earth system, and tell Moon Base Three to send it.” Covane relaxed. She found the way to ask for help. Her job was done, now someone else needed to make a decision.

  “Soren’s secret Zenge files?” Nan asked.

  “Willmer has copies,” Covane answered.

  “How do we get the information to Moon Base Three, get through the troops the Prophet put there, and convince the engineers to use the drone?” Lexton asked.

  “We still have access to secure channels to our patrol ships in the system,” Covane assured them. “We do not physically need to get by security on the moon base. If all ships around AF2 transmit on our secret channels, only one needs to get heard.”

  Nan added his opinion to Covane’s plan. “When the Zenge finish with Aster Farum 3, they are going to turn their attention on AF2 and AF1, just as they took over the moon installations. The people in the system all realize what life under Soren will be like. I believe the workers on Moon Base Three will jump at the chance to call for help.”

  “Do it,” Lexton ordered. “Get everything you can to them and get the drone into space as soon as possible.The odds against success are massive, but it is our only hope.”

  Covane left to complete the plan. Lexton turned to Nan and said, “It is an act of desperation. At this point, I see nothing left to lose.”

  Major Willmer, chief of military intelligence for the entire Aster system, sat alone in his private room deep within the command fortification. His personal computer and communication system turned on, and on the screen, Atticus Soren, the Prophet.

  “The plan is complete,” Willmer said to Soren. “They are sending the information to the moon base.”

  “The data concerning my ships and troops?” the man who would rule the galaxy asked.

  “Altered. Anyone arriving will not have a true picture of what they face,” the Major assured him. “None of our surprises will be revealed. Data regarding the system, especially our unique anomaly changed to present a less daunting area. When Earth sends ships, they will fall into your trap.”

  “If they send ships,” Soren replied.

  “Our information and analysis of the humans who infest their planet indicate they cannot help
but rush to the rescue,” Willmer answered. “If they have not arrived by the time the carriers deliver more Zenge warriors, you simply complete the invasion of the entire system. Once we have control, we can launch our own attack on Earth.”

  “I would prefer we fight them here.” the Prophet said to his spy. “We will have a distinct advantage. We know many of their weaknesses, and they do not know of our countermeasures. A battle in familiar space would be a great benefit.”

  “The drone with Lexton’s plea will arrived shortly after your message requesting a meeting,” Willmer reminded Soren. “The lure will bring them to us. The only issue will be if they arrive outside of our window of opportunity.”

  “Regardless. Either they send their ships into our trap or we set another one while my Zenge warriors complete the cleansing of the Aster system.” The Prophet looked directly at his follower. “Are you prepared to open the gates?”

  “My Prophet,” Willmer dropped to a knee behind his desk. “I have the security codes to open the door to every fortified bunker on Aster Farum 3. When you command, I will provide the path for your warriors. It is my honor to serve the One True Sacred Prophet of the Tahbita.”

  “Your loyalty will not go unrewarded, Major Willmer. The new Tahbita Empire will need leaders such as yourself. I suppose I should get accustomed to calling you General Willmer.” Soren smiled and closed the communications.

  When next he called the turncoat, it would be to open the gates to destruction. The Imperial War had begun. It would end when he sat upon the throne as Emperor of the Galaxy, Sacred Prophet of the Tahbita, and the One True Voice of the Creator.

  CHAPTER 25

  Harmony Space Port / FELL

  Coop greeted Sparks at the campfire, ate, and returned to the hut with Sky and Storm. He slept on the return flight to Harmony; a short, necessary nap.

  Hiro's switching the shuttle to landing hovers woke him. Below, Mags and Cindy waited with someone else. Even from height he recognized the Sasquatch-built alien from Rys. Prince Yauni, seven-feet of hair, towered over the two women.