Retribution: Sector 64 Book Two

by Dean M. Cole

  Turning his gaze from the Raja, Thrakst looked into the main display and glared at the magnified image of the Helm Warden where it hovered at the far side of the enemy formation. A menacing grin spread across his scaled lips. His black tongue flicked a thin thread of saliva that threatened to drip from a silver fang. For a moment it lingered, probing the tooth with nervous excitement.

  Finally, Lord Thrakst nodded. "Raise the Redeemer. I need to speak with her commander."

  ***

  Suddenly, Tekamah felt the familiar presence of his network-based half re-establish its link. At the same time, the Helm Warden's communications officer looked up with wide eyes.

  "Admiral, the enemy's disruptor field collapsed."

  Before he could digest the news or consider its ramifications, movement in the enemy formation snapped Tekamah out of his trance.

  "Admiral, a Zoxyth dreadnought just peeled away from the main formation!" reported the sensor officer. Looking up from his console, he added, "It's headed for the planet's pole!"

  "Get a fix on Remulkin's position. I'll be damned if I'm going to let that man die." Not waiting for a reply, he turned from the officer. Knowing the image of movement was a precious light-second old, he activated a direct EON connection with the commander of the battlecruiser closest to Chuvarti.

  When a holographic rendering of the captain materialized in front of him, Tekamah nodded to her. "Commander Bazil, micro-jump to the planet's pole and extract the scientist." Pausing, Tekamah cast a questioning look at his sensor officer. The man tapped a command into his holographic interface and nodded to the Admiral. Ashtara turned back to the battlecruiser's captain. "His coordinates are in your nav computer." He pointed at the red hologram of the enemy ship. "Fire on them the instant you exit parallel-space. Don't give the bastards a chance to fire that weapon."

  The commander would have no idea what "that weapon" was, but Tekamah was pleased when she didn't question his order. In spite of her evident confusion, the commander nodded. "Yes, Admiral."

  Bazil's holographic visage vaporized. At the same moment, the battlecruiser disappeared from the display, dropping from regular space. For a long second, it was nowhere. Then the image of it over the pole finally reached his sensors.

  Tekamah winced as white-hot light from a near source burned through the bridge like an erupting supernova. In spite of the view-wall's auto-dark feature, the blinding light flooding the bridge washed all color from the room, casting everything in monochromatic white.

  While the image outside was too brilliant to differentiate, the hologram's sensor told the horrible truth.

  The rocky, red holographic rendering of a Zox dreadnought now lay buried in the smooth green lines of one of his battlecruisers. The two ships had melded perpendicularly across their centers like conjoined twins. In the computer-generated image, the Zoxyth dreadnought's rocky protuberances jutted inelegantly from the sides of the sleek battlecruiser.

  Outside, the light faded, revealing the grinning, skull-crunching reptilian visage that constituted the dreadnought's bridge.

  Tekamah's eyes widened with sudden comprehension. "One of the bastards parallel-jumped into our formation!" he yelled.

  Parallel-space travel allowed ships to pass through matter. Traveling in a parallel dimension, they passed through ordinary material with no interaction. Navigators chose jump entry and exit points based on their complete lack of matter. The enemy's uncharted jump had, upon exiting parallel-space, inadvertently placed it in the same real space as the doomed battlecruiser, generating the massive, blindingly bright energy release.

  Watching various sections of each ship detonate along the conjoined lines, Tekamah finally recognized the threat posed by the enemy ship's proximity.

  "Retreat, retreat, retreat!" the admiral screamed. Fearing that his slow recognition of the enemy's tactic may have cost him everything, Tekamah activated a fleet-wide EON broadcast. "All commanders! Self-execute fallback scenario Alpha! Now!"

  Then he followed his own orders. Through a direct EON link, Tekamah activated the Helm Warden's parallel-space drive.

  Simultaneously, a glowing sphere of energy exploded from the enemy ship.

  Tekamah doubled over in agony as the abhorrent, expanding energy wave reached for his command ship.

  ***

  Remulkin Thramorus waited for a final blast or another flash of the enemy's light to take him to be with his family.

  So far the science station's hollowed-out mountain peak had proved a durable bunker against the enemy's bombardment. However, the blasts were taking a toll. Many of the prefabricated ceiling and wall panels had been knocked loose. Rock fragments of various sizes and shapes littered the floor of the base.

  Looking nervously at the ceiling's recently exposed rock, Remulkin wormed toward his desk, seeking cover. Before he reached the sanctuary, rock the size of a transport calved off the ceiling and crushed the desk. Blinking, Remulkin stared at the jutting corner of the boulder. Its jagged edge lay mere centimeters from his face.

  Coughing in the dust-filled air, he tore his eyes from the chunk of mountain. As he glanced warily at the ceiling, another blast shook the station. Fresh cave-ins elsewhere in the station shook the floor under his hands and knees.

  Suddenly, a new sound joined the cacophony. Like a giant monster grinding its teeth, creaking and groaning noises emanated from all of the science station's walls.

  To Remulkin's right, a prefabricated wall panel cracked and buckled then shot violently from its position. With mounting horror, he watched as a spiderweb of cracks marched across the exposed rock wall.

  The station was collapsing!

  Discovering that he wasn't ready to die after all, Remulkin jumped to his feet. As he scrambled out of his room, a cloud of dust enveloped him. Another huge section of rock had broken off behind him. The rush of air and dust shoved him forward.

  With rocks raining down right and left, he ran toward the station's exit. Detecting his intentions, the smart floor's network of nanobots began to stream into his garments. His bib and parka gained a little more mass as each running footfall permitted a fresh wave of the microscopic robots to board his fleeing form.

  Still running, Remulkin was a meter from the exit when the station surrendered to the enemy's onslaught and the planet's gravity. Starting from the deepest section of the compound, the cascading collapse formed an atmospheric pressure wave that shot him through the exit like a cork fired from a pressurized bottle.

  He flew through the air. A snow dune cushioned his face-first landing. Remulkin rolled onto his back, brushing ice crystals from his eyes. Looking into the star-filled sky, he saw the silhouette of the enemy ship hovering over the crumbling mountain peak, the irregular lines of its asteroidal shape blotting out the backdrop of scintillating stars.

  A dense plume of rock dust radiated out from the mountain's collapse, obscuring the dreadnought. While the billowing cloud blocked his view of the ship, Remulkin knew it offered little protection from Zoxyth sensors. His rapid departure hadn't allowed sufficient time for the normal complement of nanobots to merge with his smartsuit. The chill passing through his incomplete parka told him his body heat was leaking out. With nothing for Remulkin to hide behind, his thermal heat signature would glow like a light source in the infrared spectrum of their sensors.

  The transport! he thought, remembering the hovercraft he'd ridden to and from his polar experiment. Turning, he searched the nearly dark horizon. A thin crescent sliver of light from one of the planet's small moons cast a dim glow across the featureless plane. The soft light revealed a smoking hulk half-melted into an ice crater. A Zoxyth laser had already blasted the transporter.

  "Shit!" Remulkin shouted.

  But then he saw an opportunity. Hoping the transport's still hot hulk might mask his body's infrared signature, Remulkin scrambled across the ice and slid behind the smoking husk.

  As he looked back, his breath hitched. The enemy ship plowed through the dust cloud. T
he Zoxyth dreadnought flew straight toward him. In the crescent moon's glow, he could see the evil, grinning alien visage chiseled into the lead asteroid. The huge face appeared to glare down at him as the now motionless ship towered surreally over the destroyed mountaintop.

  Surrendering to his anger and the futility of his concealment efforts, Remulkin stood. Rising to his full height, he defiantly raised both fists toward the Zoxyth ship. "Fucking worthless lizards!" he shouted. "You've killed my family and my world." He raised the two middle fingers of both hands–a derisive Argonian gesture. "Finish the godsdamned job!"

  Remulkin flinched as a brilliant laser shot from the mouth of the alien bust. But it blazed over his head and crossed the horizon behind him.

  Closing his eyes, Remulkin Thramorus waited for the end. A moment later, the light flooding through his closed eyelids intensified, but somehow he was still alive.

  Remulkin opened his eyes to an incredible sight. The laser that had shot from the sculpted mouth now fanned up and down. White-hot, molten rock sprayed from the vertical line cut by the vibrating beam.

  Suddenly, a brilliant explosion bisected the ship. As it ruptured, the two halves flew apart, revealing an Argonian battlecruiser closing on his position.

  Blasting through the fire-filled space vacated by the destroyed enemy ship, the Argonian cruiser sailed toward him. Then its tractor beam yanked Remulkin from the ground. As he accelerated vertically toward the massive warship's gleaming nose, his EON sparked to life.

  "Sorry for the abrupt pickup, sir," said a female voice. "But we've just received an order for an immediate withdrawal from this star system."

  Remulkin passed through a port and into the ship's nose. Across the still open line, he heard the GDF officer speak with someone else. "Another one? Already?" she said. "Oh Gods! Emergency jump, now!"

  Inside the airlock at the front of the ship, the normal glow of the small room's walls suddenly intensified.

  Gripped by a gut-wrenching wave, Remulkin doubled over. An all-consuming fire seemed to burn through him as if it were boiling every cell in his body.

  With a sickening realization, he understood that this was the same light that had stolen his family. Remulkin latched onto a mental image of them. Through his grimace of pain he smiled. Finally, Thramorus surrendered to the light. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "Captain Allison, the general is waiting for you at HQ," the airman said as he snapped a sharp salute.

  Richard raised hand to brow, returning the greeting.

  Lowering his arm, the airman pointed to the passenger seat. "Hop in, sir. I'll take you there."

  Captain Allison nodded and climbed into the roofless and doorless Hummer's right seat.

  The airman jumped into the driver's seat. He threw the vehicle into gear, but then paused, looking over his shoulder at the Turtle, an odd look on his face. A moment later, he turned forward and stomped down on the Hummer's accelerator. Tires squealed their protest as the vehicle roared away from the busy scene.

  Richard looked over his own shoulder. Squinting into the predawn light flowing from behind Sunrise Mountain, he studied the surreal setting. Military support vehicles and personnel now surrounded the clearly alien ship.

  Since he'd finished changing back into his flight suit, personnel had swarmed in and out of the space vehicle. After they had got to work, their initial excitement waned. Richard had seen shock hovering just behind their eyes. In the space of half a day, they'd gone from relative innocence—and for most of them, believing we were alone in the universe—to being drawn into an apparent galactic civil war. Then there was the scale of it all. The losses were unimaginable.

  That thought triggered a deeper understanding of the emotions he'd glimpsed bleeding from everyone's face. How bad was it? How many family members and friends had each person lost?

  Steering the Hummer onto the base's palm tree-lined main road, the driver stole a sideways glance at Richard. In the young man's eyes, Captain Allison saw the odd, haunted look again. This time, he recognized it as the same look he'd seen in those of the personnel now prepping the Turtle.

  The airman appeared to want something, some reassurance from him, but Richard had no desire to share a "moment" with the man. He'd been an only child. His parents had passed years ago. His few friends were in the military. Richard's personal exposure was limited to the guilt at how Lieutenant Croft had died.

  Everybody else was in mourning, all suffering from survivor's guilt at some level.

  Richard ground his teeth together. He hated those sentiments. Since his parents' passing, he'd associated those feelings with weakness. He shook his head as if doing so could banish the emotions.

  No, there sure as hell wasn't time for it now.

  The driver turned on his blinker, then pulled the Hummer up to the curb in front of Base headquarters. Stopping across from the main entrance, he turned to Richard, snapping a sharp salute. "Sir, I just want to thank you for what you did up there. Wish I could've given those sons of bitches some payback."

  "Watch what you wish for," Richard said. "You just might get your chance." He returned the salute. "Thanks for the ride."

  Before the airman could reply, Richard leaped from the truck. He turned toward HQ's main entrance in time to see General Pearson and his entourage emerge from the building. They made a beeline for Richard. The older man walked as if a great weight rested on his shoulders.

  Richard supposed it did.

  Standing at attention, he saluted the general. "Captain Richard Allison, reporting as ordered, sir."

  The general returned the salute, briefly allowing a thin smile to interrupt his stern look. "Captain Allison, indeed. Welcome, son," Pearson said. His eyes darted skyward, and then he gave Richard a meaningful look. "Good job up there."

  "Thank you, sir."

  As he lowered his arm, the stoic look returned to the general's face. "Let's move to the conference room."

  Pivoting on a heel, the big man spun his large frame around, motioning for Richard to walk next to him.

  Caught flatfooted, Richard stutter-stepped into a jog. Quickly closing the gap, he pulled abreast of the general.

  As the captain fell into place, the base commander spoke again. "Colonel Newcastle gave me a quick debriefing of what y'all encountered up there. He also briefed me on our present situation. On top of that, I have satellite and observatory data. Hell, half the world watched the battle live on their TV sets. But what I need from you is your feel for what we'll be up against if we encounter more of these … What did Newcastle call them?"

  "Zoxyth, sir," one of the general's aides chimed in before Richard could reply.

  "Right, Zoxyth," the general said. He turned back to Richard, a questioning look on his face.

  Before he could respond, another aide darted past them and opened the large, frameless glass entry door. Cool air and elevator music spilled from the opening. They walked through the main entrance into a large, circular vestibule. Twin stairways bracketed an information desk at the back of the expansive foyer. Left and right of the desk, the stairs followed the curving wall up to the second floor.

  Richard lost a step as the serene normality of the scene struck him with disorientating surreality.

  The base commander walked toward the right staircase.

  As they neared the stairs, the general looked back at him and gave him the "go ahead" look again.

  Richard picked up the pace. They mounted the stairs. The captain cleared his throat and said, "Well, sir, the only one we encountered was already gravely injured, covered head-to-toe in green blood."

  "Green blood?" the general said. "Holy hell."

  "Yes, sir," Richard said as they crested the stairs.

  General Pearson turned and led the procession into a conference room. "But even with all of his injuries, he came at us with incredible ferocity and speed. The thing killed Lieutenant Croft with lightning quickness and extreme violence.
Even after three point-blank shotgun blasts, we still had to chase him down."

  As he rounded the end of the room's long table, the general stopped so abruptly Richard narrowly avoided running into the man.

  "Point-blank! Was he wearing body armor?"

  "No, sir. I think the thing was naked. Before it killed Lieutenant Croft we had hit its unshielded body three times with twelve gauge shotguns."

  "Three times!" the general said. "And it kept going?"

  Richard nodded. "Yes, sir. Actually, it was hit a couple more times. It didn't stop until Captain Giard managed to drop a huge stone statue onto it. Crushed the bastard. But it still took a shotgun blast through the mouth to kill it."

  The general remained on his feet. They now stood between two American flags.

  "Jesus …" the general whispered, digesting Richard's words. "Sounds like these monsters won't give up easily. We'll need to plan on more of them showing up."

  He turned to one of his aides. "Get Admiral Johnston on the horn."

  Orders received, the aide turned and darted out of the conference room.

  General Pearson turned back to Richard and pointed up. "Son, we've got all of those assets just floating around up there. For the time being, with the Joint Chiefs and the rest of the Pentagon out of commission, I'm heading up the effort to put together a space defense force."

  "I'd like to hope the Argonians got out a distress signal, and that the cavalry is on the way. But we have to assume they were caught by surprise and didn't make that call. So we're going to take the proverbial bull by the horns—if this bull will let us." He said this last part almost to himself, his eyes taking on a distant look.

  After a moment, General Pearson shook his head and focused on Richard again. "I'm placing naval officers in charge of the large ships. Figure they have the tactical experience for maneuvering large vessels in combat. Although they'll have to adjust to operations in three dimensions. I plan on manning all those Argonian fighters with all the fighter pilots we can muster in short order. We'll combine them with our existing Vampire fighters. Hopefully Colonel Newcastle and your friend, Captain Giard, are having some success getting the empty Argonian fleet under control."