The Star Cross

by Raymond L. Weil

  Grantz felt his heart pound, seeing the beautiful nude human woman before him. With a heavy sigh, he reached into his pocket and pressed a small device hidden inside the wad of credits. It instantly sent out a jamming signal, causing any nearby surveillance devices to malfunction. Reaching into his other pocket, he took out a small plastic tube and pointed it at Lucy, pressing the button on the end causing it to eject a clear, odorless gas. The human woman paused and look confused. The gas was a memory inhibitor and highly illegal. It also served to weaken a person’s will, making them highly subjectable to suggestions or orders.

  Taking one last long look at Lucy’s nude body, Grantz instructed her to get dressed. It only took her only a few moments to follow his orders, and then she stood with an innocent and questioning look on her face.

  “Take my arm and we’ll leave this room and go to the bottom level. You’re to laugh and act like we’re having a great time.”

  “We are having a great time,” Lucy responded, as the suggestion took hold. She smiled and took hold of Grantz’s arm.

  Going to the door, Grantz opened it, and the two of them were soon walking down the corridor toward the turbolift. He knew, at any moment, security people would respond to see why the surveillance system on this floor had suddenly quit working.

  Reaching the door to the turbolift, he pressed the button and waited. It quickly arrived, and, as soon as the door slid open, he took the small jammer from his pocket, pressed a button on its side and dropped it into a large planter against the wall. He knew that, in thirty seconds, the jammer would disintegrate, giving off a horrendous volume of thick and heavy smoke, which should trigger the pleasure house’s fire alarms.

  Entering the turbolift with a smiling and laughing Lucy hanging on his arm, he pressed the button for the fifth floor. Now he just needed to get by the awaiting attendants.

  They were nearly to the bottom when alarms sounded and a voice came over the speaker in the turbolift.

  “Due to a safety issue we are asking all guests to go to the bottom four entertainment levels. There is no reason to be alarmed, and you are not in danger. This is a precautionary measure only. To show our gratitude for your patronage, all drinks will be free for the next hour.”

  Grantz allowed himself to grin. A huge stampede of patrons would be escaping the upper levels. With any luck he would make it safely past the attendants.

  Exiting the turbolift, he saw his supposition was correct. Dozens of guests ran down the stairways and were hurriedly exited the other turbolifts. The attendants had a flustered look on their faces, as they were rapidly overwhelmed. Trying not to draw attention, Grantz led Lucy past the attendants and down the wide staircase to the already crowded bottom level. The loud music was overwhelmed by the aggravated and concerned voices of hundreds of patrons. Many made their way to the bars to take advantage of the free drink offer.

  Grantz slowly maneuvered Lucy close to the main doors and waited. He didn’t have long to wait as a loud explosion suddenly rang out in the street in front of the entrance. Instantly the guards and the attendants rushed forward to see what the commotion was. Using the distraction, Grantz hurriedly led Lucy out the doors and turned down the street, walking at a fast pace. They hadn’t gone more than forty meters when a man walked up to Grantz and casually handed him a weapon to replace the one he had left at the pleasure house.

  “A vehicle’s waiting at the end of the street,” the man said, as he turned and vanished into the crowd.

  Grantz placed the weapon in the holster at his waist and continued on down the street.

  “That’s far enough,” a familiar voice said.

  Grantz froze and, turning around, saw Albetz standing there with a large-barreled pistol pointed in his direction. “I thought you wanted to work together someday.”

  “I tried to warn you,” Albetz said, shaking his head sadly. “You should have listened. We would have made a great team.”

  A shot rang out, and Grantz stepped back in surprise, as Albetz’s head exploded in a shower of blood. People screamed and ran from the sudden commotion. Looking where the shot had come from, Grantz saw Avery Dolman step from a nearby doorway, holstering his weapon.

  “You were followed,” Avery explained. “Now let’s get to the vehicle and leave before the Enforcers arrive.”

  Grantz nodded, taking one last look at Albetz, face-down in the street. Unfortunately this type of death was quite common for a Profiteer.

  -

  Captain Randson breathed a sigh of relief as the light cruiser Johnas dropped from hyperspace at the inner edge of the Kuiper Belt. They were just outside the orbit of Pluto, where numerous comets and icy remnants from the birth of the Solar System orbited.

  “I have the Vindication and the destroyers Deimos and Sultan on the short-range sensors,” reported Ensign Greenfield. Then a moment later he added, “The Newton Princess has just arrived. The two destroyers are taking up defensive positions around the passenger liner.”

  Captain Owens nodded. The last time he had been in the Solar System was when the Profiteers had appeared and wiped out the orbiting fleets. It was a nightmare he would never forget. His ship had been heavily damaged and nearly half of his crew killed. He had barely made it to Newton to warn Admiral Vickers about the invaders.

  “How long before the long-range scans can detect the Profiteer and Dacroni ships?”

  “Just a few more minutes,” the sensor operator replied. “We’re really way out on the edge of the Solar System.”

  “I don’t think they’ll detect us this far out,” Captain Randson said, as his eyes shifted to the tactical screen. At the moment it only showed five green icons, which represented their small fleet.

  “Vindication is launching their CSP,” added the sensor operator.

  On the tactical screen, four small green icons—Lance fighters—left the light carrier and began their patrol around the fleet one thousand kilometers out.

  “Why don’t you think so?” asked Captain Owens, looking over at Captain Randson. “As advanced as the Profiteers and the Dacroni are, surely they have sensors as good as what our ships do.”

  Randson shrugged his shoulders. “They’re only interested in what’s going on around Earth. I doubt if they’re even looking for ships this far out.”

  -

  Andrew’s words were soon proven correct, and, an hour later, he transferred over to one of the waiting stealth shuttles on the Vindication. As he prepared to board the shuttle, Captain Henry Watkins put in an appearance.

  The older man looked at Captain Randson and then spoke. “Andrew, be careful. We don’t know what to expect on Earth. With the changes the shipyard people made to the shuttle, it should get you safely down to the surface.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Andrew promised. He had known Watkins for many years. “I’ll only be on Earth for a few days. Kurt wants me to meet with the president and Fleet Admiral Tomalson. Once I’ve made my request, we’ll be on our way back.”

  “We’ll be waiting,” Watkins replied.

  A few moments later the shuttle exited the flight bay and accelerated toward Earth. The flight would take nearly eighteen hours, and all they could do was hope the shuttle was, indeed, undetectable.

  -

  An ensign woke Andrew to let him know they were nearing the orbit of the Earth’s moon. From the sound of the ship’s sublight drive, he could tell they had slowed down considerably. Getting up, he made his way to the cockpit, where the crew was busily managing their approach to Earth.

  “Captain Randson,” acknowledged Lieutenant Macy Hiat, who was the shuttle’s commander and chief pilot. “We’re just passing the orbit of the Moon, and we have a lot of Profiteer and Dacroni ships on the sensors. Also a large number of shuttles traveling back and forth between them and Earth.”

  “Any sign they’ve detected us?”

  “No,” replied Lieutenant Hiat, shaking her head. “We’ll drop in over northern Canada. Even so, we’ll pass within
a few hundred kilometers of several of the orbiting ships.”

  “Just take it slow and easy,” suggested Randson as he looked at the shuttle’s small sensor screen. It was full of red threat icons. “They won’t be expecting us, so we should be able to slip in between them without a problem.”

  “I hope so,” Hiat said, as she reached forward and adjusted several controls on the complicated panel before her. She looked at her copilot. “Let’s do this.”

  Andrew sat down in a heavily padded chair behind Hiat. He looked out the viewports, seeing Earth rapidly growing larger. The large blue-white globe made him feel momentarily homesick. He had been raised in the Houston area and had even married Emily in one of the local churches. He wondered idly what had happened to their home in the quiet suburb they had once lived in.

  “We’ll have to slow down considerably to reduce the turbulence in the atmosphere,” Hiat said, as she put her hands on the flight controls. “We don’t want to look like a meteorite flashing through the sky when we enter Earth’s atmosphere.”

  Andrew nodded. He knew they were approaching the critical moments of the flight. There was no way to know for certain if the protective covering on the shuttle would shield them from the sensors on the Profiteer and Dacroni ships.

  A few moments later, they passed between two orbiting vessels. One was a Profiteer escort cruiser, and the other was a massive Dacroni battleship. Everyone in the cockpit held their breath, but there were no reactions from the two ships. Moments later the shuttle began to vibrate, as it hit the upper edges of the atmosphere.

  “They didn’t detect us,” Andrew said with relief. Now would come the even more dangerous part of descending through the Earth’s atmosphere.

  “I’ll do some gentle S curves to bleed off our acceleration to a more acceptable level,” Hiat said, as she watched the speed indicator. “If we heat up the atmosphere too much with our passing, we’ll be very easy to spot.”

  Andrew nodded and leaned back in his chair. He felt tense, knowing that, at any second, an energy beam could strike the shuttle, incinerating it. However, the minutes passed by, and nothing happened. The Earth’s surface gradually neared. Andrew could hear the air buffeting the shuttle as Lieutenant Hiat steadily slowed the small vessel.

  “I’m setting down in a forested area, where we can hide the shuttle. I assume you have a method to contact someone in the government?”

  “Yes,” Andrew replied. He had a small transmitter that Kurt had given him with Fleet Admiral Tomalson’s emergency contact codes. They were about to see if they would work.

  -

  The next day in the underground bunker, President Mayfield was reading the latest intelligence reports. Since the fiasco in South Africa, the Profiteers had made two other demands for increases in gold and other valuable metals. Both times the demands had been met under protest by the targeted countries.

  “I don’t like this,” General Braid said with a scowl. “Not only are we giving them the monthly tribute we agreed upon, but now they’re making additional demands.”

  “It gets worse,” Raul Gutierrez said, pointing to a message he had just received. “They’re demanding Australia turn over one thousand bars of gold in two days.”

  “One thousand!” blurted Mayfield, his eyes bulging. “I don’t think they have one thousand, not after what we sent to Newton. They were one of the countries that contributed heavily.”

  “They may have it in reserve,” suggested Raul. “After all, Australia is one of the main producers of the yellow metal. Surely they didn’t send it all to Newton.”

  “This could be a problem,” General Braid said.

  Mayfield quieted for a moment and then shifted his eyes to the Secretary of Homeland Security. “Raul, see if we can find out if Australia can make the payment. If not, we may have to help them.”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Raul answered, as he made a quick note.

  The door to Mayfield’s office opened, and Fleet Admiral Tomalson stepped in. He had a huge grin on his face. “I have someone I want all of you to meet.” Gesturing behind him, he led another man into the room.

  Mayfield looked at the newcomer curiously. He looked to be in his early thirties with dark hair and a deep tan.

  “This is Captain Andrew Randson, Fleet Admiral Vickers’s executive officer on the Star Cross,” Tomalson said.

  Mayfield’s eyes grew wider, as he stared at the captain. “How did you get to Earth? Did you bring a message from Fleet Admiral Vickers?”

  “I came on a stealth shuttle,” Captain Randson replied. “I have some information for you, as well as a request.” He quickly outlined what Fleet Admiral Vickers needed and the reasons why.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Mayfield said in disbelief, after Randson had explained about the purchase of the new warships. “Fleet Admiral Vickers has bought an entire warfleet?”

  “It’s how things are done in the Gothan Empire,” Captain Randson answered. “Everything is for sale there.” He then went on to describe in more detail what they had encountered on Kubitz and the brief space battle after they left the empire.

  “Fleet Admiral Vickers needs spacehands,” Fleet Admiral Tomalson said thoughtfully. “I know some went to Newton with the evacuees, but many elected to stay here with their families.”

  “How do we get them to Newton?” asked General Braid. “That fleet will be useless without qualified crews.”

  “We send them and their immediate families,” replied Tomalson evenly. “We also have a number of people in the air force and navy who would be well qualified to serve on these new ships. It’ll just take a while to round them up and get them to the waiting shuttles.”

  President Mayfield looked intently at Captain Randson. “When Fleet Admiral Vickers has the defense grid set up around Newton, and once the new ships arrive, will he be able to free Earth?” Everyone looked at Randson expectantly.

  “That’s the idea,” Randson replied. “Once we have the defense grid in place, we’ll order a second one for Earth. We’ll begin picking off the Profiteer convoys and make their operation here unprofitable. That alone may force them to leave. If not, then we’ll have no choice but to bring in our ships and attempt to drive them from Earth orbit.”

  “But you’re expecting them to attack Newton before the defense grid arrives,” pointed out General Braid. “Can Newton survive that attack?”

  “We’ll survive,” Captain Randson replied with a nod. “If the Profiteers attack Newton, they’ll regret it, as it will be very expensive for them. That’s one thing we need to remember. We must not look at the Profiteers as conquerors but as modern-day pirates, looking to turn a profit. If we can reduce or take away that profit, they’ll leave.”

  “I hope you’re right,” commented President Mayfield with a deep sigh. He then turned to General Braid and Fleet Admiral Tomalson. “Let’s begin finding those spacehands for Fleet Admiral Vickers.” For the first time in weeks President Mayfield felt maybe there was hope for Earth after all.

  -

  High Profiteer Creed looked down at the message he had just received from the Australian government. They had offered three hundred bars of gold as payment.

  “How dare they!” roared Second Profiteer Lantz in anger. “They are one of this planet’s leading gold producers. They have the gold. They’re just refusing to turn it over! We should nuke several of their cities as an example.”

  Creed gazed at the ship’s main viewscreen for a long moment. The southern landmass of Australia was surrounded by the deep blue waters of the surrounding ocean. This planet was becoming far more troublesome than he had believed possible. He may have made a mistake in agreeing to leave their major cities alone if they paid the monthly tribute.

  “No, contact Clan Leader Jarls. I want to send teams down to find the gold. This time we’ll search through their major cities. If they resist, we’ll use our ion beams and energy projectors to destroy entire areas if need be. The gold is there. We jus
t need to find it.”

  -

  A few hours later seventy Profiteer and Dacroni shuttles descended on Australia. Their targets were Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, and Canberra.

  Upon the ground, the Australian military saw the inbound shuttles and quickly triangulated the possible targets. When they realized the cities the shuttles were aiming for, the alert was sent out. From a number of air bases modern F-75 Eagles launched with full weapon loads. Ground-based interceptor missiles were activated and targeted the descending alien vessels. From the city of Canberra a frantic message was sent, offering five hundred gold bars if the Profiteers called off the attack. There was no response, and the enemy shuttles continued to descend.

  -

  The chief of the air force looked chagrined as he received his orders. “We’re to engage the descending shuttles and attempt to keep them from the cities.”

  “But they have energy shields,” protested his second in command. “We’ll lose our fighters!”

  “I know,” the commanding officer said, resigned. “But we have our orders.”

  “What about the interceptor missiles?” Those were of North American Union design with a very powerful warhead.

  “They’ll be fired also.”

  -

  In the sky above the Australian cities, eighty-five F-75 eagles climbed toward their descending targets.

  “All squadrons, fire upon confirmed targeting lock,” ordered Major Hanson. “Once your missiles have been fired, move in and use your cannons.”

  “That’s suicide,” protested one of the pilots over the comm channel. “They have energy shields. The South Africans didn’t shoot down a single shuttle.”

  “We have our orders,” the major responded. “We also have better fighters and more powerful missiles.”

  A warning alarm sounded in his cockpit, and, looking out, he saw the contrails of dozens of missiles arrowing up toward the enemy shuttles.

  “Interceptor missile launch,” he said over the squadron comm channel.