by Jim Laughter
As Delmar approached the Cabbage Patch, he noticed the landing and receiving bays on the massive ship were all filled to capacity.
Looks like they don’t have any ships on patrol. The report on the planet won’t be the only one I’ll be filing.
Chapter Three
The great mothership rocked in response to the salvo of Red-tail torpedoes exploding against her side. Pressure plates buckled inward while the unprepared crew raced for their battle stations. A second, third, and fourth salvo of torpedoes from the Red-tail raiders tore away whole sections of the hull, hurtling both crewmembers and machinery out into open space.
Reeling from the unexpected attack, the giant ship was unable to respond with any more than a few random shots at the attacking vessels. Enemy ships swarmed around her while her own defensive fleet, stored inside in preparation of their planned departure from the sector later that morning, struggled to respond to the attack.
While secondary explosions inside the crippled mothership further hindered an effective defense, the relentless attack by the invaders from the Hadeous galaxy continued. There would be no respite in their effort to pound the disabled Axia vessel into oblivion.
Patrollers and picket ships trapped inside the landing bays near the impact points of the torpedoes exploded and burned. In the other bays, frantic pilots tried to board their ships and power up for emergency take-off while mothership personnel activated emergency procedures to open the magnetically sealed landing bay doors. Heat rays from the attacking enemy burned through bulkheads and landing bay doors and ended the futile escape effort for many.
Delmar jolted to consciousness by the force of the explosions as the enemy torpedoes detonated against the hull on the opposite side of the mothership. Still wearing his utility uniform, he jumped into his pressure suit and bolted for the control cabin of the Cabbage Patch. He was slowed by the ship rocking from detonations deep within its inner reaches.
Diving into his control chair, he desperately powered up his ship for emergency exit from the landing bay. He heard explosions all around him, as well as tortured screams as enemy heat rays shot through the opening bay doors, burning men and equipment indiscriminately.
A shudder ran through the mothership just as Delmar lifted the Cabbage Patch off of the slanting deck and advanced toward the slowly opening landing bay door. Just as he got near it, another patroller parked behind him lifted and accelerated toward the too-narrow opening. In spite of their repulsion fields, metal screamed against metal as the other ship careened into the hull of the Cabbage Patch.
Delmar wrenched the controls around to avoid the bulkhead to his right. The other patroller ricocheted off of the Cabbage Patch and slammed into the opposite bulkhead, exploding on impact.
The explosion forced the Cabbage Patch back against the right bulkhead where several sensor nodes and antenna relays were sheared off because of the ship’s forward momentum. Sparks showered around the patroller from the severed connections as Delmar tried to keep his ship on an even keel. He saw a piece of his forward outer hull ripped from its rivets and sent spinning out into space ahead of him.
A third patroller slammed into the burning wreckage behind him and also exploded, completely blocking the bay door. The force of the second explosion forced the Cabbage Patch out into hostile space while Delmar struggled to control his damaged ship.
When the Cabbage Patch emerged from the burning mothership, energy rays from a pair of Red-tail raiders bracketed the struggling vessel. The heat from the ensuing attack caused the life support system of the Patch to overload and fail. Emergency systems kicked in, bathing the sweating pilot in a reddish glow. A second enemy ray seared the navigational beacon and antenna array at the rear of the ship, surging an electrical shock through the wiring and into the controls where Delmar was still trying to regain control.
Despite his suit’s protective insulation, the electrical surge coursed through Delmar’s hands and threw him hard out of the control chair against the bulkhead behind him. A series of explosions pushed the Cabbage Patch spinning out of control into enemy space, its inertial dampeners and gyroscopes not responding to the forceful shove.
Fighting to remain conscious, Delmar flipped on his automatic navigational system. The last thing he saw as darkness claimed him was the giant mothership exploding in the distance, its final light the intensity of a small star going nova.
∞∞∞
The students shifted nervously in their seats when the final bell rang. The teacher stood up from behind her desk, moved to the front of the room and addressed her pupils.
“Please hand in your assignments. Make sure your names are on the front page and pass it to the person in front of you.”
Melissa took one last look at her book report. Although it was too late to do anything, she was still tempted to make changes. Her thoughts were interrupted by the student behind her handing a fistful of papers over her shoulder. She took the pile and added her own report to the top. Saying a silent prayer to the Unseen One, she passed the collection forward.
The teacher paced along the front of the classroom collecting the assignments. With a firm motion, she thumped the pile into neatness and placed them into her briefcase, snapping it shut. Melissa thought it sounded like the click of a rifle for her own execution. The teacher jarred her out of her morbid reflections by launching into the day’s lesson.
Later the same day during her electronics class, Melissa’s thoughts again returned to the book report.
I didn’t cheat really, she thought. I was just creative!
Still, she felt uneasy. A buzz from her bench brought her back to the present.
With practiced ease, Melissa made the necessary adjustments in the test circuits in front of her. The project was supposed to challenge the student but Melissa found it to be more of a bore instead.
That’s the problem. They always stick me in these stupid elementary electronics classes instead of letting me go ahead on my own.
She looked at the circuit diagram in her book and frowned. She knew instinctively that it wouldn’t work. Taking a chance, she assembled it so that it would function properly. The signal from the test equipment went through the components and the result was within the parameters of the exercise.
“So, you’ve got it, Melissa,” said her instructor as he leaned over her shoulder to examine the circuits. Melissa cringed. She hadn’t heard him approach and was afraid that he’d seen her change the wiring.
“What have we here?” he asked, pointing to some of her modifications.
“I... I changed the circuit,” she confessed hesitantly.
“You know you’re supposed to do it according to the diagrams in the book.”
“But Mr. Auger, it wouldn’t have worked! It would have blown the bench!”
“What you think isn’t important, young lady,” the teacher said sternly. “Now, put it back the way it’s supposed to be while I watch.”
Reluctantly, Melissa disassembled her modifications and arranged it according to the diagram in the book. She looked up at her electronics teacher, hoping he would be satisfied.
“Now put the test signal to it,” he ordered.
Melissa’s heart fell. With great hesitation, she reached up and flipped the power switch.
Immediately, the circuit began to crackle and sizzle while the test bench buzzed and smoked. The teacher pulled her roughly away from the equipment, throwing her to the floor in the process. He reached for the test switches just as the signal generator blew apart in a shower of sparks.
The room plunged into darkness and all of the fireworks stopped. Red emergency lights snapped on, casting an eerie glow onto the scene. Smoke drifted up from the ruined bench. Around the room, Melissa could see the frozen expressions of her frightened classmates. Everything remained absolutely motionless until a teaching assistant turned on an exhaust fan and restored the lights.
Melissa found herself staring into the angry, smoke-blackened face of Mr. Augur. He pulled her r
oughly to her feet.
“You’re going to the office right now, young lady!”
Moving quickly before he could grab her again, Melissa ran ahead of him as they exited the room and headed for the office of the School Administrator.
∞∞∞
After the letter carrier drove away, Agnes Hassel laid aside her garden trowel and got up from where she’d been tending the roses in the front flower bed. She brushed the dirt from the knees of her work pants and walked out to the mailbox to retrieve the day’s offering. She knew she could receive her correspondence through starmail on her home computer like everyone else but she preferred paper. Of course, it was impossible to wait for paper mail between planets, which is why the postal center had agreed to receive starmail for her and print it off.
Leafing through the collection of junk mail and bills, she ran across the letter. She placed the letter on top of the stack and headed to the house. Striding into the kitchen, Agnes checked the simmering stew on the stove and then sat down at the table.
I’ll leave the rest of the stack here at Robert’s place, she thought and tore open the envelope. As she pulled out the two pages, Agnes saw the bold yet feminine handwriting of Leatha.
Captain (T3) Leatha Mordon
Observation Posting Office
Port Nordac, Theta
Dear Agnes and Robert,
Just a quick note between bouts of paperwork to let you know that we’re fine and thinking of you. The modifications to the Aurora are proceeding slowly. Too slowly if you ask me! From what they tell me, she’ll be grounded for at least another two Theta weeks!
Stan and I had a brief visit with Delmar a few days ago. He was able to divert here for a day to visit and feel familiar ground beneath his feet. He’s looking good and sounded excited about his new assignment out near the rim. He groused about being given some sort of dirty job, but underneath I think he really enjoys the challenge.
It was his suggestion that prompted this letter. As you may surmise, Stan and I are going through all of the hassles (no pun intended) of preparing for our wedding. We’ve checked with several wedding coordinators and have become disgusted with the lot of them! Delmar suggested that I contact you and Sherry Sender to see if either (or both Stan says) would be interested in helping us plan our nuptials.
Since you are now my extended family, I would be honored for you to even consider it. I’ve sent a similar invitation to Sherry, so feel free to discuss it among yourselves. Of course, we’ve asked Jake to perform the wedding ceremony. Please let us know as soon as you can so I can stop pulling my hair out!
Love,
Leatha and Stan
P.S. We received a message from Delmar that he arrived safely at his new duty station in Sector 2046-W. That’s all we know, but I’m sure he’ll write to you as soon as he’s settled.
Agnes looked up from the letter just as her husband, Robert Hassel, came in from tending the animals. He took one look at her and knew something was up.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to read it myself?”
Agnes, too overcome by the request from Leatha, handed the letter to her husband. Robert scanned the pages and then looked down at her with a grin.
“Looks like you better break out your travel bag again,” he said teasingly and handed the pages back to his wife. “I’ll turn on the computer so you can contact Sherry.”
∞∞∞
“Have you heard from either Sherry or Agnes?”
Stan Shane set his dinner tray down on the table. Leatha looked up from where she’d just unloaded her tray and stuck her tongue out at her fiancé.
“I take that as a no,” Stan quipped and plopped down opposite her. For months now they’d shared their evening meal together so often that it had become something of a ritual. They bowed their heads while Stan offered thanks to the Unseen One, something he would never have considered doing prior to meeting Delmar and the Senders. When he finished, Stan cut into his steak while Leatha’s answer burst forth.
“Of course I haven’t heard yet!” she said just as Stan tried to take a bite. “I only sent the letters out a few days ago!”
“Well, I thought maybe one of them might have called you or something,” Stan said, popping the bite into his mouth. “I’m surprised they’re not both here already.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Leatha said seriously. “Who in their right mind would go to the expense?”
“Those two,” Stan said around his mouthful of real beef, a rare delicacy for a space traveler.
“In fact,” he continued after he’d swallowed, “I don’t think a herd of groots could stop those two from coming here directly.”
“I wouldn’t want them to do that!” said Leatha. “I was only hoping they could send some suggestions or something.”
“That wasn’t what you said in the letter,” Stan corrected, pointing his fork at her. “You invited them to come, and come they will.”
“Well, they don’t have to,” Leatha said, realizing that she’d been caught. Stan looked at her and smiled.
“So how’s the latest mentor student coming?” he asked, tactfully changing the subject.
“Pretty good I guess.” She twisted up a large fork full of spaghetti and looked doubtfully at Stan.
“She’ll be graduating from her technical school soon and then off to either basic training or university.”
“You sure you didn’t miss your calling?” Stan asked. “That makes three you’ve help get into the service in the last year. You’d make a good recruiter.”
“Not on your life! I love flying, and that’s it!”
“Hey! Calm down,” Stan said. “I was only kidding.”
“Anyway, I only helped two of those kids get in. The third had already planned on it before I came along.”
“So are you going to keep at it once you, I mean we, transfer out of here?”
“If they’ll let me. Being out remote makes it a little harder to correspond with the students, but I’ll manage.”
∞∞∞
The damaged patroller idled lazily through space, her captain barely able to maintain consciousness. Despite the ache in his head, Delmar was aware that his ship was in trouble. The faceplate of his pressure suit had snapped shut, indicating lack of cabin pressure. He also became aware that he was floating around the control cabin, which told him the artificial gravity system was off-line. His navigation board indicators showed he was on course, but on course to where? He couldn’t remember. His drive system indicators showed that although the drive system was working, he was running at minimum velocity.
Drifting over to the circuit box, Delmar noticed that every circuit had been blown by that last power surge. He glanced at his shipboard clock and realized that he’d been drifting unconscious for over a week.
“There’s no telling where I’m,” he muttered to himself.
Forcing himself to struggle with his burned hands, he carefully reset each circuit breaker. One by one the various functions of the ship sputtered back to life. Delmar braced himself and reset the big one for the Albert Drive and artificial gravity. In spite of his effort, he fell heavily to the floor, cracking his head again on a protruding console.
Moaning in pain, Delmar struggled his way to the control chair. He buckled himself in this time to avoid being thrown around and then tried the controls. To his amazement the throttle and axis ball responded, though very sluggishly. A glance at the tale-tell signs of imminent total power failure, he knew his ship had only limited power and function. He would have to set down somewhere soon.
With burned fingers, he caressed the navigational system which signaled its readiness. The small effort seemed to drain him and Delmar realized that he was starting to lose consciousness again. As his vision began to cloud, he remembered he’d preprogrammed his mission destination the previous night. With any luck, he’d still be alive when the Patch made it to his destination.
With the last of his str
ength, Delmar shoved the throttle forward.
“Take me someplace safe, baby,” Delmar whispered.
As the damaged ship shot forward, Delmar slumped down in the control chair, his subliminal language tutor still plugged into his ear. Only his safety harness prevented him from falling to the floor.
Chapter Four
The older model hover car pulled into the driveway and settled to the ground as the drive disengaged. The door opened and a graying man in his late-forties climbed out, stretching the stiffness out of his back as he stood to his full height. Turning, he looked toward the two-story house and saw the light in his daughter’s upstairs room was on.
He smiled at the thought of her. His baby, barely fourteen and just as spunky as her mother. In fact, that shining characteristic was also their major source of conflict.
Such are blessings, he thought. They always come mixed.
He ambled up the path to the front porch of their comfortable old frame home, a family treasure that had been passed down through six generations of Borens. He noticed several chores that needed his attention, but studiously ignored them. Entering the house, he was greeted by his wife. Her expression telegraphed an unwelcome message to him and he felt the beginning of a tension headache.
After shedding his coat, the couple went into the kitchen, and while he sipped on a cup of strong coffee, she filled him in with the details of their daughter’s day. The news was grim and he didn’t look forward to the confrontation that lay ahead.
Knowing that it was best to take care of it now so they could later share their evening meal together without it hanging over their heads, the couple climbed the stairs to their daughter’s bedroom. A quiet knock gained them entrance.
Melissa sat despondent in her desk chair with her back to her cobbled-together computer. Her tear-streaked face was downcast. She stared dejectedly at the floor. The couple made their way into the cluttered bedroom and sat on the bed facing their child.
“Melissa,” her father began gently, “your mother has filled me in on what the School Administrator and your electronics teacher had to say.”
