"Remember to target the engines first," Janniss said. "We don't want them trying the leave the party."
Glancing at Mayybell, Boottall shifted his grip on his joystick and smiled. He liked the way her eyes sparkled, and she did kind of smell nice. He decided to ask her to share a meal with him some time after all this Asiddian business was finished.
Mayybell seemed to sense his gaze and shifted her attention from her monitor to him. Trying to act nonchalant, Boottall did his best to avoid her eyes.
Lloyd's calm computer voice interrupted his act and forced his concentration back to his monitor, "I will guide you to your targets and calculate the initial coordinates for entry. Once inside the hull, you will be on your own. Each of you is assigned to one of the remaining battleships. Have fun and good luck."
Thirty Bowlers shot from Hangar Bay 60 and arrowed to within fifty feet of their chosen targets. There was a brief pause for calculation; then the Bowlers disappeared.
***
Rachael Plover moved the red queen of hearts over the black king of spades and wondered for the hundredth time why her shift seemed to last forever. The boredom of keeping watch over computerized sensors monitoring the stability of fusion reactors was mind numbing. If she didn't have video card games to pass the time, she was sure she'd go crazy from inactivity.
It had been hours since her ship had joined the armada encircling the alien vessel, and the only change in routine had been the downgrade from Battlestations to Alert One status. Clicking the 'new game' icon, she watched a fresh set of cards arrange themselves across her screen.
Plover was an Asiddian engineering technician nearing retirement and her years of experience with the power systems of battleships had taught her to rely on the computers to keep the reactors running without a hitch. She could remember only one time when her training was needed to replace and tune a failing magnetron coupler in the fusion initiator coil. It took her a moment to notice the blinking warning light on her console.
Fusion reactor three was spiking a temperature increase of 2,000 degrees, and Plover's eyes widened as she switched her monitor input to the Engineering dashboard. The readings were unmistakable. The coolant recirculator wasn't functioning, and the only protocol if she couldn’t rectify the situation was to take the reactor off-line.
Tapping instructions into her keyboard, Plover was dumbfounded when the computer response was the blue screen of death. Pushing the Escape Key several times failed to accomplish anything but raise her blood pressure as the reactor temperature continued to climb. It now stood at 2,500 degrees.
With frantic haste, Plover jogged to the manual coolant valve located in the control panel on the starboard side of the compartment and twisted the metal wheel clockwise until it was fully open. Returning to her station, she watched in horror as the temperature climbed to 3,000 degrees. The emergency klaxon began its earsplitting screech.
Out of nowhere, a black ball appeared in the air above her work station. It had depressions in its surface making it look like a face staring at her. Plover was so startled; she forgot the crisis building in the reactor. The ball floated near the coolant valve and shiny metal antennas extruded from its body. Plover counted fifteen of the spikes spread evenly over its surface; each about twenty inches long.
Her hand was moving toward the intercom button when the ball disappeared. Plover's eyes almost bulged out of her head. The ball was gone and with it the coolant valve, the network of connecting pipes, the deck, the bulkhead, part of her computer console - everything within six feet of the ball dematerialized. An instant later, coolant water began spraying into the compartment from the severed pipes. The liquid was no longer pressurized and so hot it sprayed like a geyser.
Plover glanced at the temperature dial and watched it climb to 3,500 degrees. The thickening cloud of steam made visibility almost impossible, and she dashed out of her compartment toward the nearest lifeboat station. There was going to be a catastrophic reactor explosion in about two minutes, and she wanted to be as far away from the ship as possible.
***
Harrier stood on his office balcony staring into the night sky. Computer calculations had mapped the path the Chrysallaman warship would take after the bomb destroyed its propulsion system, and he had a front row seat for the show.
Checking the time on his communicator screen, Harrier noted there were less than two minutes remaining until the explosives detonated and sent the Destinnee plunging into Chrysalis' atmosphere. Grinning with delight as he anticipated the meteoric dive of the huge ship, Harrier glanced at his video camera crew to make sure their attention was riveted to the sky.
Two camera operators, an audio specialist holding a pole mounted microphone and a director all showed the proper level of concentration. Harrier planned to use the footage as propaganda to encourage his troops and destroy any vestige of hope in the surviving Chrysallamans.
Right on time, a bright yellowish flare brightened the night sky. The brilliance lasted a moment and then became a flaming object arrowing downward through the atmosphere trailing burning debris. A delayed sonic boom reverberated from the direction of the flaming trail, and a constant noise like a giant jet aircraft vibrated the bones in Harrier's body.
Glancing at his production crew, he smiled with satisfaction as the video cameras tracked the falling ship. The fireball fell beneath the treetops and a few moments later, a tremendous explosion blasted a cloud of dirt mixed with steam into the air. A reddish-orange fire glow lit the horizon at the point of impact.
"What a show," Harrier said. "Did you get it all?"
"Yes sir," the director smiled. "I think I'll slow down the fall so it lasts about 30 seconds of airtime. Once I enhance the audio and add a background soundtrack, the vid will be awesome. I doubt there's anyone on this side of the planet who could have missed . . "
"We have another one," a camera operator said. "Coming down at 80 degrees northwest. Spectacular!"
"I see it," the second camera man said and pointed.
"What?" Harrier exclaimed.
Another sonic boom vibrated the night air as a flaming meteor streaked across the horizon on a course different from the first. Harrier's eyes narrowed as he wondered what was happening. Another brilliant explosion burst in a different part of the sky, and a third meteor began trailing fire as it plunged at a new angle towards the planet's surface.
"Cut those cameras," Harrier ordered as he whipped back into his office and grabbed his communicator.
"Colonel Wren. Report fleet status. What's going on up there?" Harrier screamed. He didn't want to yell, but the constant jet engine noise was so loud he had to cover his right ear and hold the speaker tight against his left to hear even with the volume turned to maximum.
He could just make out the response, "Colonel Wren has disappeared. Multiple casualties. All battleships are compromised. Fusion reactors . . unstable. Cannot maintain orbit . . "
The radio voice cut off.
"Gadwall command. Do you read me? Gadwall command!"
Harrier noticed his shadow on the floor and realized it was as bright as day outside. Hastily returning to the balcony, he counted twenty-five meteors plummeting from the sky. Thunderous ground impacts shook the building.
An incoming message tone warbled from his communicator. Harrier looked at the display and saw the call was from Hannah Wren.
Stabbing the call answer button, he said, "Wren, you better have a good explanation for . . ."
His words were interrupted, "Harrier, we just annihilated your sorry fleet, and now we're coming for you. General Blunt out."
With the communicator gripped tight in his hand, Harrier looked up and noticed the video cameras trained on him. All his conversations and emotional reactions had been recorded.
The Director strutted past the camera operators and declared, "General, your performance tonight was awe inspiring. Coupled with the destruction of the alien warships, I'm confident any remaining Chrysallaman spirit will be cr
ushed. I am sure my work will receive the highest honors available at the annual awards banquet."
Angered beyond reason, Harrier pulled his disintegrator pistol and vaporized the film crew and equipment.
Chapter 18 – Ground Game
"The last Asiddian battleship has been destroyed," Lloyd announced. "Analysis of debris fields on the Planet's surface confirms. All Bowlers have returned to Destinnee and been placed in stand-by mode. Operation Candlestick is an unqualified success."
"Cease VIEW mode," Tom ordered. "Based upon our observations, the Asiddians are no longer an orbital threat. Intel from the Chrysallaman Underground indicates the Assids relied upon space born superiority to defeat uprisings and didn't construct any significant land based defensive or offensive structures. Their shortsightedness will work against them."
"Despite my doubts, the hollowing strategy was a success," GooYee observed. "I thought Heiny's reliance on McPherson's suggestions about the military applications of FLIT technology was misguided. Perhaps my assessment was premature."
"I have found the big oaf cunning in suggesting uses for my discoveries," Heinbaum replied.
"I was speaking of you," GooYee said.
Heinbaum's blank look at the remark turned to red-faced rage when McPherson laughed so hard he spurted coffee out his nose.
With tears of glee running down his face, the Scottish bear said, "Ya know Heiny, Gooey has a point. The more you listen to me, the less misguided you are."
"Go ahead and have your fun, you Scottish hyena. There will come a time you'll regret treating me with such distain. Mark my words," Heinbaum warned.
Blunt said, "Stop clowning around. Your personal beefs can wait. I need ideas for driving the Assids off Chrysalis, and if you don't have something constructive to say, then keep your mouths shut."
"Very well. Based upon my observations, the Asiddian commander exhibits quintessential military thinking. Killing and big explosions equal victory. He must have graduated from the same school as McPherson," Heinbaum sniffed. "So bourgeois."
"Bourgeois or not, he's dangerous, Heiny," McPherson replied. "He punched his one-way ticket to Hell when he killed Amanda without blinking an eye. I'm going to make sure he's on the train."
"What does public transportation have to do with it?" GooYee asked.
"Shut up," Heinbaum and McPherson said.
At that moment, Whatsit, Chellsee and Hisspat Zeck walked through the hatch with Emperor Horcunt. Tom had asked them to bring the Emperor to help plan the palace assault, but Horcunt thought the absence of Asiddian battleships meant his planet was saved.
Spotting the familiar greenish-white cloud swirls of Chrysalis on the viewscreen, the Ruler straightened his back and declared, "Excellent. Chrysalis doesn't appear to have suffered during my absence. It pleases me to see you have dispatched the Asiddian spacecraft from orbit for which you have my gratitude. I'm pleased you didn't waste my time with boring war games. Watching repetitious explosions is most tedious. I'd much rather spend my time relaxing in a hot bath."
Horcunt's remark angered Chellsee and before Whatsit could stop her, she slapped him. "Over half the population died when you fled to HG-281."
The Emperor tried to back away from her and bumped up against Zeck. His former General kept him from losing his balance, and the old man smoothed down the front of his robes in an attempt to regain his dignity.
"You shall be put to death for striking your Sovereign," Horcunt admonished. "My people will welcome me with flowers and pungent oils. They'll shower me with loving admiration, and my first act will be to order your execution."
"Well said," Zeck agreed. "No one, especially a low-born commoner, should lay a hand on the Supreme Leader of our people."
Hearing those words ended any tolerance Whatsit had left. Stepping between Chellsee and the Emperor, he swung a straight jab into Horcunt's mouth. There was an audible crunch, and the old lizard fell over. His mandible skewed at an odd angle where the blow broke it. Horcunt was going to spend the next three months with his jaw wired shut. Whatsit was drawing back to swing at Zeck when Chellsee grabbed him.
"I don't need your help," she growled.
"I wasn't trying to help you. I was afraid you'd kill the old geezer. I didn't want his death on your conscience so I took him out of the equation. Was going to do the same with Zeck."
Hesitating for a moment to consider his explanation, Chellsee's eyes softened and she grumbled, "Maybe I'll forgive you this time but don't interfere with me again . . . ever."
"Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.”
"In my day no Chrysallaman male would tolerate such female behavior. The punishment would be swift," Zeck replied.
Chellsee whirled and landed a roundhouse kick against the side of Zeck's head. With a surprised look frozen on his face, he joined Horcunt on the deck.
"Let's start fighting Asiddians and not ourselves," Tom sighed.
***
"Where is the Princess?" Harrier demanded as he deleted the last data folder from his computer.
"Her shuttle landed on the palace grounds two hours ago. No one has seen her since she entered her private quarters," replied the stiff-backed orderly.
"Has there been any contact from Colonel Wren?"
"None Sir. The command ship Gadwall was one of the first destroyed. She's presumed dead."
Harrier picked a heavy glass paperweight and threw it across the room where it shattered. A cloud of glass dust and splinters hazed the air.
"Get my personal battleship ready for liftoff. As soon as the Princess is aboard, I'm abandoning this garbage planet for home. It may take years, but when I return I'll make sure the Universe is freed from the stink of Chrysallamans and their Human allies."
Watching the orderly back out of his office, Harrier tapped his intercom button and said, "Vultura, have you finished moving your lab to the Thorncutter?"
"Yes. I'm now in the process of installing the new ray emitters into the spines. I'll have them in and tested in two hours."
"You have one hour. It will take me that long to gather up the Princess and her entourage. Harrier out."
Looking out his balcony window for the last time, Harrier cursed the Humans. Yellowish-white smoke from the burning wrecks of 30 battleships still hazed the atmosphere.
Slamming his fist down on his desk, Harrier thought, "I should have killed the Human leader, Blunt, when I had the chance. If I get the opportunity again . . ."
***
Harrier's pace down the marble tiled floor of the broad hallway matched his determined look. Direct, no-nonsense, don't get in my way. Twenty armored commandos with weapons at the ready followed him.
Harrier's personal guards were maniacal stone-cold killers. Not one drop of emotion showed in their black eyes. It had taken him years to find the right female soldiers for the job. One of the primary qualifications was a psych evaluation describing each as an antisocial narcissist with an Oedipus complex.
He had taken great pains to position himself as the father image to all of them. Their twisted love for him was psychotic. They'd do anything he ordered.
The Palace guards standing watch at the ornate door of the Princess' private quarters backed away when Harrier confronted them. The look on his face coupled with the threat of twenty disintegrator rifles pointed at their chests made the decision easy.
Turning his head toward his platoon leader, he ordered, "Remain here at the ready, Lt. Ani. No one is to enter this room."
Ignoring protocol, Harrier didn't knock. He twisted the door handle and entered the chambers. Closing the door behind him, Harrier let his eyes adjust to the darkness. It was quiet except for the slight breathing noises coming from the bed area. The only light came through wispy curtains pulled across the windows on either side of the king-sized sleeper at the far end of the huge room.
After the harrowing days following her kidnapping, Harrier was sure the Princess needed rest, but she could relax in her quarters aboard his battleship
. Crossing the room silent as a wraith, Harrier watched her for a moment. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to share the bed with her, but pleasure would have to wait for another time.
Speaking in soft tones wasn't how he normally conducted business, but when dealing with a sleeping Princess, it was prudent.
"Your Majesty, please wake up," he whispered.
There was a slight stirring and then the expected, startled jump.
"Who's there? How dare you enter my chambers without permission?"
"I'm sorry to wake you, Princess, but we have to leave this planet. The Humans have destroyed our fleet, and I have no choice but to return home for reinforcements. Now you must get up, get dressed and come with me."
"General Harrier?" she asked.
Evolution of F.O.R.C.E. (The Origin of F.O.R.C.E. Book 3) Page 20
