In the Blink of an Eye

by Mark Dutkiewicz

  His daydream was broken when he noticed a familiar silhouette reflected in the glass. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” he sighed at the figure. “So, how’d you find me?”

  “Emily told me you’ve been spending a lot of time up here lately,” Kami said softly.

  “Yeah. It’s a good place to clear your head,” he said. And mine’s swimming. “So how long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to know you don’t like what you see out there. Or maybe it’s what you see in here. I know that scowl.” Kami paused a moment. Jeff felt a little surprised at her gentle tone. More so at the sight of her reflection fidgeting. “Anyway, I know the last twenty-four hours have been, interesting—”

  “Is that what you call losing your best friend?” Jeff cut in. “Or are you referring to that bombshell you so cryptically dropped on me earlier?”

  “Perhaps a bit of both,” she answered. “But we can’t let that get in the way of performing our duties. I’ve had some things pointed out to me, painfully at times, and it wasn’t until recently that I actually started to hear them. I guess what I’m saying is it’s time to let go of the past.”

  “You didn’t just tell your best friend’s wife that her husband is dead!”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Oh! Then it’s the other thing. I can assure you Commander; I won’t be repeating that accident.”

  “That was not an accident you cocky fuck!” she grated at him.

  “Really? Guess I missed the memo on disobeying orders, getting your best friend killed, then coming back to the ship to get drunk and sleep with your superior being standard procedure now.”

  “Listen here Grant. These are trying times. Perhaps the most trying we'll ever face and I don’t have time to dick around with you and your pussy ass sensitivity issues—”

  “There’s the Kami Thomas I know,” Jeff mocked her sarcastically.

  “—you need to get your shit sorted out, and you can start by forgiving yourself for Prokuon —”

  “Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?” He rounded on her cutting her off.

  “Shouldn’t you be on the flight deck?” Kami snapped back.

  “Regardless of where either of us should be, I don’t need a pep talk from the fucking gipper right now. I’ve told you before you don’t know jack shit of what it is to be a combat pilot, and don’t tell me Prokuon wasn’t my fault. Your decision to throw us into that murder hole was shit. I told you that. But I was the one who disobeyed the call to retreat. I proceeded to target on your Goddamned suicide mission because I thought I could pull it off. And that’s what pride gets you,” Jeff finished in gruff voice. Turning around he leaned on the handrails once more hanging his head in shame.

  “Well don’t we make the pair,” Kami said after a moment. “A complete turnaround from when we first met. You full of yourself, me desperately clinging to a rule book. Now I’ve all but thrown the book out and you’re stuck in some cycle of self-loathing. For what it’s worth I’ve always respected you.” Jeff scoffed at that statement. “Okay I admired you, sort of, and just never knew it. But now you’re being purposefully obstinate just to get some kind of reaction out of me. Keep it up, and I may vent you from the nearest airlock on principle.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Jeff said tiredly.

  “You’re not being fair to yourself Jeff,” her voice seemed to take on a tremor. He felt a hand tenderly land on his shoulder. “Please stop this. We need you…” Kami trailed off, then added in a near whisper, “I need you.”

  Lifting his head Jeff slowly turned to look back at her. A faint advancement of tears rimmed the bottoms of her eyes and she looked almost frightened. The woman who stood before him was almost unrecognizable. Gone was the stern glare that promised a quick rebuttal to foolishness being replaced with a soft pleading face. The commanding presence replaced by a frightened girl moved to tears.

  Pushing off the rail he moved to stand at his full height when she surprised him again. In a flash Kami threw herself at him wrapping Jeff in a fierce hug. “Uh,” Jeff stammered as Kami buried her face into his chest. Almost by instinct he returned the embrace saying, “I never expected the acerbic Commander Kameryn Thomas to scold me, and then hug me.” With a hint of a laugh he added, “Scold me yes, but never hug me.”

  He held her there a moment longer, enjoying the feel of her bosom pressed against him. Odd that. He had refused to believe what Curtis and the rest of the squad said about him and Kami. Maybe they were right. She is cute. And spunky too. Gently pushing her away, he felt her hand trail around his body. Settling on his chest, her fingers came to a rest on the sharp angles of the pilot wings emblazoned on his flight suit. With a start Kami jumped away from him, her face flushing with modesty.

  “Blushing too I see.” He smirked. “Tough as nails Kami Thomas is acting like a teenager in love.” Laughing, he performed his best imitation of a southern bell. “Oh please Jeff, hold me. Never let me go, until the world ends.”

  “That may be sooner than you think jackass,” Kami snapped delivering a sharp jab to his shoulder. “This is no time to be…” she trailed off. A soft smile caressed her face as Jeff mimed her usual nagging. The smile soon turned into the first heartfelt laugh he’d ever heard out of the woman. Poking him sharply in the chest to punctuate each insult, she laughingly berated him. “You are insubordinate, reckless and above all else the most childish officer I have ever met.”

  “You forgot pigheaded, cocky, arrogant,” Jeff laughed in return remembering all the times the two butted heads over the years. Somehow he didn’t understand how he ever felt intimidated by the woman. Emily was right. She was sweet when you got the know her.

  “Don’t think this changes anything,” she warned him, though he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. “I’m still XO of this ship, and I don’t have time for any—” Jeff grabbed her head cutting her off and delivered a powerful kiss to the woman. The feel of her lips seemed the most natural thing ever as he lost himself in the brief bit of respite. It lasted seconds, felt like minutes, and all Jeff could remember was being lost in the moment all too briefly before the blare of general-quarters pulled him back into reality.

  ***

  Captain Styles starred numbly at the telemetry read out on the view screen. The Drac were early, earlier than he’d hoped for, early enough to catch him off guard. Another twenty-four hours was all he asked. Enough time to solidify their defensive position. Enough time to evacuate the vast majority of the souls still on the planet. “How many?” he grunted sourly.

  “Approximately two-hundred warships,” Tyler called out. “It’s hard to tell. They’re bunched so tight I can’t get accurate readings. I can confirm the cannon ship is not with them.”

  “Thank God for small miracles,” Styles muttered under his breath before calling out, “Ranson, scramble all fighters. Keep our squadrons on close fleet support. Send to Essex and Riverside to form up their attack wings for enemy fighter intercept. Mister Schwartz, try to raise Admiral Caloway.” If the fat blowhard is still alive. “Tell him we’re engaging the enemy in high Earth orbit. And somebody find Commander Thomas and get her ass up here!” he shouted at no one in particular.

  Returning to the command chair, he dropped into the seat gripping the armrest tightly as the bridge exploded in activity. Grimly he starred at the tactical display decorating the viewer. A flurry of transponder images danced on the screen racing toward the oncoming threat. It didn’t make sense, two-hundred ships put them on nearly even footing. Not close enough for Styles taste considering the rough shape most of his blockade was in. Reports started filtering in as the lead ships of the defensive line made contact, miraculously promising reports. The Drac ships appeared to be in disarray. They hadn’t launched fighters and were receiving a sound beating by the heavy gunships at the head of the phalanx. Perhaps Caloway slowed them down. Forced them to send an advance force hoping he’d retreat to
protect the planet.

  ***

  Sprinting into the hanger Jeff hastily threw his helmet on. His razor was already being wheeled up to the launch tube when he flew up the ladder flinging himself into the cockpit. He quickly began running through the pre-launch checks while a deck hand struggled to secure him to the life support system. “Skid and Gunsmoke are already out there Sir,” the man said.

  “Quit the jawing and get this crate into the tube!” Jeff all but yelled in response. Of all the times to be caught unprepared this had to be the worst. His encounter with Kami didn’t help matters either. Trying to tamp down the jumble of emotions running roughshod over him, he checked and rechecked all his instruments as the razor was shuttled into the dark corridor. Everything checked out. All that was left was to wait. The familiar click echoed through the chamber as the plane was locked into the catapult. Focusing on the launch indicator, he vaguely wondered if this was the last time he’d fly into combat from Victoria’s bay before chirping over the radio, “Victoria tower, Knight one zero one in tube five, good power, good wipeout.”

  “Knight one zero one, clear to launch, call when spaceborne.”

  “One zero one,” Jeff answered a second before the familiar g-forces pushed him into his seat as the razor was flung into the blackness of space. A quick scan of the HUD showed him where to find his squadron and with a sharp jerk of the stick he rolled the craft and raced to join the attack wing. “Skid status.”

  “The Drac are trying to crash our evacuation party,” James’ voice crackled on the channel. “But it sounds like we won’t be seeing much action. Apparently it’s a relatively small force and our gunboats are pounding the snot out of them. We’re being held in reserve for the moment.”

  “You mean the Jackets are,” Jeff corrected.

  “No. Our whole wing is to maintain position inside fleet perimeter.”

  “That’s odd,” Jeff muttered to himself. “All right Skid. Thanks for keeping things together until I got here.”

  “Anytime Knight,” James called back. He waggled the wings of his razor in a type of salute to Jeff before pulling his flock off to support the fleets flank leaving Jeff and the yellow jackets mired at the rear of the blockade.

  “Like it matters,” Alison chirped over the radio. The biting sass was back in her voice. But Jeff could sense her frustration at not being in the vanguard. “We’re stuck at the ass end of this one regardless of what happens.”

  “Stow it Mako, we had our shot and blew it. Now it’s up to someone else to take the charge.”

  “Fuck that, we’re getting a bum ride,” she bit in return. “Prokuon was a colossal fuck up, but it’s no reason to punish us.” Continuing more quietly, “We've already been punished enough.” Many voices sounded their agreement.

  “I believe,” Alan added like some twentieth century televangelist, “what the sweet and lovely Mako is trying to say is. That, not one of us, is innocent of being the ass of the party. But, sir Knight, is the ass we choose to follow through the gates of hell.”

  Jeff didn't realize how much he missed the man’s youthful flamboyance. “I appreciate your confidence,” he said feeling the camaraderie of the ragtag squad. “Every single one of you has gone above and beyond. We may be stuck in the same place I was my first time out here. But babysitting the fleet is just as important and diving headfirst into a sortie. Maybe more so now than ever before. We have millions of civilians relying on us to hold those sons of bitches off. And I’m sure we’ll get our chance to send some of those bastards to meet their creator. Remember, we're the Yellow Jackets.”

  “Yeah,” Alan boasted, “the most cantankerous of insect bastards; always looking for a fight.” Whoops, hollers, and cheers erupted from the rest of the squadron sounding unanimous agreement with Alan’s bravado. And their wish was soon answered.

  CHAPTER 38:

  AT ALL COSTS

  “I’ve got multiple contacts emerging from sup-loom,” called Tyler in a near panicked voice. “Two-hundred. Five-hundred. The computer can’t keep up!”

  “What’s their position,” Kami said leaning over the man’s chair.

  “About two-hundred eighty thousand klicks. They’re forming up behind the Drac line our gunboats are hammering.”

  “Is the Cannon ship with the group?” Captain Styles asked agitated that Kami hadn’t thought of that first.

  “Yes Sir! It looks like the enemy is fanning out. The sensor image is clogged with traffic.”

  “It’s a beach head,” Kami said staring Styles right in the eyes.

  The captain could see behind those blue pools what he felt in his gut. “Give me a visual,” he barked, not truly wanting to see what was out there. Slowly he rose from his chair, an icy tingle racing down his spine. For the first time since he himself occupied the cockpit of a razor the captain experienced true fear. Steeling a solitary moment for the brave pilots racing toward destiny Styles thought, God speed gentlemen. And heaven help us.

  ***

  The Drac had amassed the largest battle force humanity had seen to date. Thousands of ships filled the sky as the Yellow Jackets fanned out to hold off any craft that may breach the forward gauntlet of cannon fire. Instinctually Jeff saw the potential holes in the line. Wasting no time, he ordered his ships to intercept those locations. As the groups raced towards their quarry, he once more performed his zeroing out exercise. But this time, the peaceful prairie was riddled with a backdrop of distant lightning. This was new. Something was wrong. The spell was broken by Jason’s static filled voice. “Knight, we’ve got three toads bearing zero three point zero two.”

  Snapping out of his trance in time to witness in a blink the expanding fireball that was once his wingman, the vision of battle filled Jeff’s eyes as the radio belched a cacophony of excited chatter and the agonizing screams of comrades. Eyes darting about, lapping up the information scrolling across his visor, Jeff answered, “Thanks. Didn’t think they’d break through this fast.”

  Rolling the sleek craft, he quickly aligned a nearby target and opened up the razor’s powerful guns. The volley of glowing slugs silently tore the Drac ship to pieces. Just another notch on his already stacked score card. A small victory added to humanities desperate stand upon Earth’s doorstep. Slowly, but surely, the Drac advanced. It seemed they relished in the cruel slaughter, taking their time to meet out destruction on a personal level while their ultimate weapon moved in to range. Despite the awesome might of the hulking space cruisers, throwing volley after volley of missiles, cannon fire and blindingly brilliant lances of powerful energy beams, little seemed to deter the Drac advancement. Beyond all rationale, Jeff couldn’t help but feel as if the destruction of each putrid ship merely spawned two or more of the vile craft. The losses the Drac absorbed were staggering. Hundreds of their war ships had already been destroyed. Tens of hundreds of their squat toad like fighters. The violent gesture amounted to no more than a scratch to the massive battle force bearing down this last line of defense. Intent on cruel slaughter, the armada pressed forward raining destruction on the quickly thinning blockade standing between them and thousands of escape craft frantically fleeing the planet.

  “Okay boys,” Jeff barked over the radio, “break into phoenix pattern. Get in close with your guns and give those blood sucking bastards everything you’ve got.”

  “Knight, phoenix pattern will leave us open on the flank.”

  “If you’ve got a better idea Gunsmoke, now’s the time.”

  Finessing his craft to lead a charge into the throng of alien star fighters, a rapid series of blasts ballooned to the right of his ship. Desperately spinning the plane, turning certain death into a near miss again and again, time seamed to freeze as he blinked. His life in the UECN quickly flashed before his eyes, all the successes and failures merging into one second. Shaking away the vision, he silently thanked death for missing again as he regained his composure and set his sights on the next target.

  To his horror he saw the Drac
had done far worse than take advantage of chinks in Earth’s armored wall. The rapid destruction of two heavy cruisers providing support fire into the fray opened a gaping hole in the defensive net. The evacuation ships were now in major jeopardy. A wave of Drac fighters wasted no time taking advantage of the defensive collapse. They funneled through the hole descending on the transports desperately trying to escape the carnage. With remorseless intent, they swarmed about the nearest vessels leaving destruction in their wake. Two transports detonated in near unison. The Drac moving on to the next continuing the merciless attack. Whatever meager defenses the escape craft may have had did little to interfere. Whatever fighters they managed to destroy were quickly replaced by the flood of toads racing towards them. Another transport exploded and only a fraction of the planet had been evacuated. The situation was becoming increasingly desperate.

  “Mako,” Jeff tried to shout before he was rapidly swinging his razor about avoid enemy fire. “Shit,” he seethed while corkscrewing and somersaulting the craft. A few well-placed shots dispatched his harasser. “Mako, help plug that hole,” he said referring to the source of their almost endless supply of Drac ships. “Gunsmoke, break off and maintain fleet support. Teak on me, we need to plow the road.”

  “Right with ya boss.” Alan called back as he and a smattering of pilots followed Jeff descending on the melee.

  A flurry of missiles, followed by liberal cannon fire, waylaid their game as the Yellow Jackets mounted an attack on the Drac flank. Jeff pushed his razor to the line quickly chasing a group of toads off the transports. Pulling wide, he caught sight of Alan streaking past with two razors close behind. His fighter jerked, the computer calling out minor damage to his port wing. Nothing serious, he ignored the klaxon instead spinning the fighter the launch a volley of slugs at his trailing attackers. Behind the disintegrating remains of the putrid ships he spotted Alison leading her small band straight into the murder hole between the now converging cruisers. Her flight was raining a wall of fire into the advancing horde. Confident she could stem the tide long enough for the larger ships to merge their field of fire, Jeff turned his attention back to the sortie surrounding Earth’s rapidly dwindling refugees.