Star Cruiser Titan

by C. G. Mosley

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he answered, crossing his arms, and looking away from her.

  She stared at him a few seconds. “I should have you grounded,” she said.

  The worried expression returned to Howler’s face. “Please, don’t do that,” he said, almost pleading.

  “Why shouldn’t I? If your mind isn’t clear, how can you perform your job safely and effectively?”

  “When I’m in that cockpit, my mind is on nothing but completing my duties,” Howler replied.

  She pulled her reading glasses from her face and tossed them onto the nearby clipboard. “I don’t believe you,” she said flatly.

  Howler raked his fingers through his brown curly hair. “Doc, please,” he said. “It’s my job. I’m a squad leader.”

  Dr. Holtz shook her head. “Harlan, Hotel Squad is being disbanded. Georgia and Garrett are being reassigned, as will you.”

  He looked at her, surprised. “I guess I should’ve known that would happen,” he said begrudgingly.

  “Tell you what,” Dr. Holtz said as she reached for her glasses and clipboard. She flipped to the second page and scribbled a note. “I’m going to give you something to help you sleep. I want you to take it, get plenty of rest, and come back and see me in forty-eight hours.”

  “Oh, come on,” Howler grumbled. “Doc, I don’t have time for that. Some bad stuff could break out at any moment and I need to be available.”

  “I’ll make the decision on that in 48 hours,” she answered. Dr. Holtz walked to the opposite side of the exam room where large cabinets adorned the wall. She opened the middle door and retrieved an amber colored pill bottle. When she turned back to him, she said, “The unfortunate reality is that right now we have more pilots than we do Comets. I think forty-eight hours is not a long time for you to rest and let me reevaluate you before I make a final decision.” She tossed him the bottle and he caught it.

  “So, there is no talking you out of letting me take the pills and giving me clearance?” Howler asked.

  She glared at him. “Absolutely not.”

  ***

  “How are we looking out there?” Roger asked, radioing Robert Drake, call-sign Tombstone.

  “Nothing out here but us and a bunch of stars,” Tombstone replied.

  He and Foxtrot squad had been patrolling the perimeter around the Titan for almost an hour and their fuel was beginning to expire.

  “Alright, it seems that our visitor is indeed a friendly and we think he’s definitely out here alone,” Roger answered. “Bring the squad in, I know you guys are about on fumes.”

  “Roger that,” Tombstone replied. “Headed in.”

  Commander Roger Stellick was seated in his office and since Captain Hightower had ordered him to call the fighters back in, he decided to take a moment for himself. He knew that when he returned to the conference room he’d be in there a while. The alien, Amus, seemed trustworthy but it troubled him deeply that he’d been so wrong about Captain Malcolm Steiger. Roger had always felt that he was a decent judge of character, but now he wasn’t so sure. Ironically, it seemed that Captain Hightower gave his trust to Amus with relative ease, and though there appeared to be no reason to doubt him, the recent betrayal of Steiger weighed heavily on Roger’s mind. The last thing he wanted was for them to make the same mistake twice.

  Colonel Madigan, for his part, appeared to be somewhere in between. He didn’t seem to trust, nor distrust, the blue alien. However, Roger knew that when the chips were down, he’d always side with Hightower—as he should. Harry Hightower was captain, and everyone on the ship depended on him to make sound decisions. If he did not, they would most likely never see Earth again. Hightower seemed to be ready to arrange a meeting between he, Madigan, Roger, and the leaders of the Federation.

  Amus made it clear that he felt the possibility of finding another gate and getting the Titan and its crew home was a strong possibility, but also the Federation had its own problems that needed to be addressed. With all that in mind, Roger was also cognizant that Earth was on borrowed time. Sooner or later the Supreme Regency would invade. If there was anything that could be done to snuff out that possibility now, it was a worthwhile endeavor. Ultimately, Hightower was going to agree to help them, at least until he received the help he needed. As conflicted as he was, Roger didn’t see any other option.

  There was suddenly a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Roger said.

  The metal door retracted into the wall and Dr. Holtz stepped in with a file folder in her hand.

  “I spoke with Howler,” she said, casually placing the file folder on the desk in front of him.

  “And?” he asked, opening the folder to review the enclosed document.

  “Physically, he’s fine…no surprise there,” she said. “However, he’s very angry and he’s hurt. He’s grieving and in my opinion, he’s doing it in an unhealthy way. He feels tremendous guilt as he believes he should’ve been the one that died out there.” She glanced down at the document. “I was going to see if you could give this to the captain…he wanted a report as soon as possible.”

  Roger looked up at her and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “So, you’re going to make a final determination in forty-eight hours?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m hoping a little rest and decompression time will clear his head, so he can think straight.”

  “Alright, but if he’s not good, don’t let him talk you into giving him clearance,” Roger said. “He can be persuasive.”

  “Yeah, he’s already trying,” Phoebe replied, she paused and looked back to the door to make sure no one was in earshot. “What’s the scoop on our mysterious visitor?”

  Roger looked at her with a disapproving look. “Phoebe, you know I’m not at liberty to say.”

  She glared at him and rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that crap…tell me what’s going on.”

  Roger sighed and pressed a button under his desk to close and lock the door.

  He pointed at her and said, “You tell anyone what I’m about to tell you and—”

  “Oh hush,” she quipped. “I’m not going to tell anyone, and you know it.” She smiled, revealing her perfectly white teeth.

  Roger admired her a moment and then tried to regain his train of thought. “His name is Amus. He says he’s from some planet called Avax. He’s blue.”

  Phoebe’s dark eyebrows arched higher. “Oh really?” she said, her jaw dropping a bit. “He’s blue?”

  “Yeah…we’re in deep space, don’t act so surprised,” he replied. “He says his people on Avax, and another race from another planet called Botha, form a group they call the Federation. They’ve been in battle with the Kaloians and he basically says the Federation would consider helping us get back to Earth if we’ll help them with the Kaloians.”

  Phoebe huffed, her shoulders rising as she breathed in. “Of course,” she said, disappointed. “Just helping us get home would be too simple.”

  “This is our shot at getting out of here,” he said. “Be a little more optimistic.”

  She pursed her lips and stared out the round window to her left. “This is just so surreal,” she said wistfully. “I’d always dreamed of travelling into deep space, but not like this.”

  Roger could see a sadness in her emerald eyes. “Something you want to talk about?” he asked.

  She whipped her head around to look at him and smiled. “No, why do you ask?”

  “We’ve never talked much about your family,” he said. “You got someone back home you’re thinking about?”

  She stared at him and licked her lips. “I have a daughter,” she said.

  Roger’s eyes lit up. “Wow…really?”

  She nodded, but the sadness remained. “Yes, she’s eight now,” she said.

  “Well that’s great,” Roger said, leaning forward. “Tell me about her.”

  “Well, she’s got curly dark hair,” she began as she grabbed one of her own curly dark locks. “Her favorite colo
r is pink. She loves pizza and ponies—she’s just your typical American little girl.”

  Roger smiled. “That’s great Phoebe,” he said. “Maybe one day I can meet her.”

  She smiled nervously and looked away. “Well, that’d be great...hopefully I’ll get to see her again too.”

  “Phoebe, we’re going to get back, don’t you—”

  She held up her hand to stop him. “That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I haven’t seen her in person since she was two.”

  Roger frowned and sat up straight. “I don’t understand.”

  “She’s with her father,” she whispered. “He sends me pictures frequently, and I send him money, toys, clothes…”

  “And why don’t you get to see her?” he asked, obviously confused.

  She suddenly stood, and Roger could see moisture welling up in her eyes. “Long story…sometime I’ll share it with you,” she said, straightening the front of her navy blue uniform jacket. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  As she headed toward the door, Roger hit the button under his desk to unlock and open it. “Phoebe,” he called after her.

  She paused and looked back at him.

  “If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m always here,” he said as he thought of his own estranged daughter.

  “I know,” she replied. “Please don’t forget to get that report to the captain…and don’t worry, nothing you told me will leave these lips,” she added, and she mimicked zipping her mouth shut.

  Phoebe then disappeared into the hallway.

  Chapter 22

  The case that Amus had been carrying contained a wealth of information on the Kaloians. There were photographs of their planet and Hightower was surprised to see that it resembled Earth. It seemed to be covered in dense forest. Near the city of Clona, the most striking picture of all was of an enormous palace, seemingly constructed with blocks of pure silver.

  “Who is this?” the Captain asked, sliding a photo over to Amus.

  The Avaxian’s dark eyes narrowed. “That’s Potentate Romulus Shade,” he said. “That is the only photograph that we have of him. He is the head of the Supreme Regency.”

  Colonel Madigan leaned over so that he could get a good look. The man in the photo had long hair the color of snow and eyes that were only slightly darker. His skin was pale, but the man looked very healthy. He appeared strong.

  “He’s an albino,” Madigan said gruffly.

  “So, he’s the one driving all of this?” Hightower asked.

  “Yes,” Amus replied. “Many Federation assassins have perished trying to murder him.”

  “I assume you know how to find this palace?” the Captain asked, sliding over the photo of the silver structure.

  “Yes,” he answered. “The potentate rarely leaves the palace. That’s why it’s so hard to get to him. It’s heavily guarded by his personal security force headed by the brute Chief Hugo Horne. He’s been known to crush a Bothian skull with his bare hands.”

  “How would the Federation feel about you sharing all of this with us?” Colonel Madigan asked.

  Amus’ eyes widened and he shifted in his chair. “They would not be happy,” he admitted. “However, if you agree to assist us, I think all would be forgiven.”

  Hightower crossed his arms and stared up at the ceiling. “All this sounds so familiar,” he muttered. “An alien race asking Earth for help.”

  “We need each other’s help, Captain,” Amus responded. “Allow me to set up a meeting with the leaders of the Federation. Please do not hold us accountable for a betrayal we did not commit.”

  “I don’t have any other choice,” Hightower said. “Give me the coordinates where we can meet.”

  “Allow me access to my shuttle. I need to explain the situation. They will be unwilling to grant you access to one of their bases at this time, but a meeting in space would not be out of the question.”

  “Very well,” the Captain said. “But I would appreciate it if you would allow Colonel Madigan to accompany you to the shuttle.”

  Amus smiled a toothy grin and nodded his agreement.

  ***

  “You girls have a rough day at work?” Ray Compton asked with his southern states drawl.

  “Something like that,” Covergirl answered, recognizing his attempt at humor.

  “Yeah, at least you were called to the principal’s office,” Banshee said as she picked up the small glass and took a shot of whiskey.

  Ray was polishing the glasses behind the bar but stayed within arm’s length of the two pilots in case they needed anything. The arrival into the Ara Constellation had been very eventful and he imagined there would be more pilots filing in soon to have a drink and unwind too.

  “You know, I thought it was odd when I was approached to be a bartender on this ship,” Ray said as he put the glasses aside to wipe down the counter. “But after what we just went through, I now understand the need for a bar.”

  Banshee smiled and slid her shot glass over to him. “I’ll drink to that,” she said.

  He poured the drink and noticed a man enter through the door behind them. He was tall, and his head was shaved slick. “One of your colleagues?” Ray asked, nodding toward the approaching man.

  Banshee eyed him as she quickly noticed he was coming directly toward her.

  “They told me you wouldn’t be hard to find,” he said as he rubbed the stubble on top of her head. “Do you mind if I ask why you shave your head?”

  Banshee thought she recognized his voice.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Do you mind if I ask why you shave yours?”

  “Not at all,” he answered. “It started turning loose and finally I decided to help it along.”

  She nodded and then turned back to her drink.

  “So?” he said.

  “So, what?” she replied.

  “Why do you shave yours?”

  She swallowed another shot and slammed the glass down. “You asked if I minded you asking and I said yes.”

  “Alright,” he said defensively, and he glanced at Ray Compton.

  The bartender shrugged and went back to polishing glasses.

  The man placed each of his hands on both women’s shoulders. “I’m buying the drinks,” he told Ray.

  “What?” Covergirl said, turning to look at him. “Wow, thanks!”

  “It’s the least I could do since Banshee here saved my life,” he said.

  Suddenly she realized who he was and turned to look at him again.

  “You’re Moon Dog?” she asked.

  He nodded. “That’s me. Nathan Carmichael,” he said offering his hand.

  They shook.

  “It was nothing,” Banshee said. “I’m sure you’d have done the same for me.”

  “Oh, it was something,” Moon Dog answered. “You are one hell of a pilot.”

  He moved to the stool next to her and took a seat. “They also say you’re smart as a genius,” he said.

  Banshee glanced over at Covergirl and her counterpart grinned. “You know, I think I’m gonna go get some rest,” she said, rising from the bar.

  “What?” Banshee said, wide-eyed. “We’ve only been here a few minutes.”

  “Yeah, but I’m really tired,” Covergirl lied while faking a yawn.

  Banshee pleaded with her to stay with the use of her eyes, but Covergirl only winked and walked away. “Thanks for buying my drink,” she said to Nathan as she left.

  “So, who are ‘they’?” Banshee asked.

  Moon Dog looked at her, confused. “Pardon me?”

  “You keep saying ‘they’ told you where to find me, and ‘they’ told you I’m smart,” she replied. “So…who is ‘they’?”

  “Oh,” he said, slightly embarrassed. “Umm, I’m good friends with Franklin Fuller.”

  Banshee gestured to Ray for another shot. “Oh yeah?” she asked. “You’re good friends with Bull?”

  “Yeah, we were cadets together once upon a time.”


  “He’s good,” she said. “Good enough to be a squad leader in my opinion.”

  “All of us are good,” Moon Dog said. “But you’re exceptional,” he added. “I’m not kidding, you’re the best I’ve ever seen.”

  She downed another drink and then turned to look at him. “Nathan, is there some particular reason you’re kissing my ass? Because if you’re wanting to sleep with me, all you need to do is ask.”

  Moon Dog felt his jaw drop. “Wh-what?” he stammered.

  She leaned over and kissed him hard on the lips. He could taste the whiskey.

  “If you’re wanting to sleep with me, all you have to do is ask,” she repeated.

  “Umm,” he said, obviously confused. “No, that’s not what I was trying to do at all.”

  “Alright, good,” she quipped as she slid off her stool. “Ray, you have a good one, okay?”

  “You too Merissa,” Ray said, as she walked away.

  Moon Dog watched her disappear from the bar and then glanced over at the bartender. “What the hell just happened?” he asked.

  “I think she likes you,” Ray said with a mischievous grin.

  ***

  Once things calmed down after Amus’ arrival, Tim Reed led his men back to the hangar to continue prepping the Comets for their next flight. The ships with no visible damage were inspected and serviced first. Fortunately, most of the fleet fell under this category. Charlie West was assigned the first Comet to repair and it just happened to be Sabre’s.

  “What happened to the nose?” he asked as he looked over the severely bent and twisted cone. The fighter’s radar antennae was barely hanging on and would have to be entirely replaced. This was usually a tedious and frustrating job that would probably take more time than actually replacing the cone. There were burn marks on the port side wing, probably a near miss from a plasma bolt. Otherwise, the Comet appeared to be fine.

  “That happened when Sabre pushed Howler’s ship back to the launch bay,” Tim Reed said, as he crossed his arms. His muscles bulged under his tight short-sleeved shirt.

  “How is that even possible?” Charlie asked as he kneeled, so he could get a look under the belly of the ship.

  “We’ve got the world’s best pilots on this ship, is it really that surprising?” Tim asked.