Escape 3: Defeat the Aliens

by T. Jackson King

  “We know that,” Stefano said softly.

  It was clear they all knew how much she cared for them. “Good. Spread the word to your other saloon vets. And reassure them there are enough habitat rooms here for their spouses or partners. When we leave the Solar system, no one’s partner will be left behind!”

  “Understood, will do,” they each said quickly, their manner thoughtful as they looked ahead to a dangerous future.

  “We will meet again, in person, once we are in Earth orbit. Until then, enjoy the trip home. Jupiter is close to our homeward vector, so enjoy some stellar eye candy. Fleet captain out.”

  The four images vanished from the holo.

  “Do I maintain the hologram?” asked Star Traveler.

  “No. Remove it.”

  The holo vanished, leaving Jane with a cold sweat, trembling fingers and intense relief that her fellow ship captains had shown their confidence in her and in her leadership. Now, she had to live up to that confidence.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Bill felt hot as he sat at his Weapons station, wearing a woolen Service Dress Blue coat, necktie, white shirt and white combo cap. On his left coat sleeve were sewn his CPO rating and service stripes. On his left breast were pinned his field service ribbons, his rifle sharpshooter badge, parachutist badge and his SEAL trident. Below them hung a Purple Heart and the Navy Cross he’d been awarded all too publicly by President Melody Hartman. The bronze cross pattée was something he cherished, but had not worn openly since the award ceremony. He was no show-off. But Jane expected their holo conference with the Joint Chiefs of Staff to possibly include the president. As a result, Chester wore the same outfit, though his sleeves carried the gold rings of a vice admiral. Shoulder tabs completed the former CNO’s outfit. Jane, however, sat in her command seat at six feet above the Command Bridge metal deck. She wore her Air Force Blue coat, light blue shirt, tie tab, blue plastic name tag, service ribbons, captain’s bars, parachutist badge and sharpshooter badge, the latter two being something he had not realized she’d earned. Like him she was not one to talk up her awards. But now, like him, she wore her own Air Force Cross and Air and Space Campaign medals. None of them wore caps or hats. The rest of their Command Bridge crew were Aliens who either wore nothing, wore leather straps for tool support, or wore brown cargo shorts. Like those worn by Bright Sparkle and Learned Escape.

  “Arrival in orbit complete,” chittered their navigator Lofty Flyer from her station at the far end of the line of function stations that filled the front of the Command Bridge. Multiple holos half-enclosed her duty station, just as similar holo groupings fronted everyone else’s control pillar and flexmetal work seat. Bill admired her dexterity as she moved them through the crowded low Earth orbit space that had lots of old space junk and hundreds of active sats moving in an equatorial circle around his world. “Ship is holding station above Peterson Air Force Base, province of Colorado, Human clan of United States of America.” The brown-furred flying squirrel looked at one of her holos, then spoke again. “All four fleet ships have assumed position around the Blue Sky.”

  “Navigator, thank you,” Jane said calmly, her image in his comlink holo showing a relaxed command persona.

  The persona was something he knew she worked at projecting. Bill glanced left at his system graphic holo. It showed the green dots of their five ships holding position at 200 miles above Colorado Springs, with three more green dots in a similar orbit just twenty miles away. The ships of Jake, Mack and Janice had joined up with them per orders from Peterson. On his right his comlink holo flickered, then the images of all seven captains appeared in small icons that surrounded Jane’s central image. Bill checked his system graphic again.

  “Captain,” he called. “No other Collector ships are present in the Solar system beyond the eight of us. The USS Minnesota attack sub is orbiting the Moon. It’s involved in supplying the base we set up there in partnership with the Chinese, Japanese and Russians.” His true space holo was filled with the glorious brown and green landscape of the Rockies, while his Weapons status holo showed Green Operational. “All weapons stations on this ship are operational. We have an antimatter reservoir able to supply four quick AM shots. This ends my Executive Officer report.”

  “XO, thank you,” she said, her tone mild but firm. She looked up. “Star Traveler, establish a neutrino comlink with General Harriet Poindexter at Peterson. Include the image icons of our other ship captains along with my image when you send the contact signal.”

  “Complying. Link established.” A second passed. “Response signal coming in. Transferring to comlink holo.”

  Bill’s comlink holo flickered again, then Poindexter’s image filled the middle of the holo. The Peterson signal included other folks. Sitting to either side of her, at her tactical display table, were the other chiefs. At the woman’s left were JCS Chairman Paul J. McAuley, who looked calm and thoughtful. A change from when he’d gone beet red at Jane’s defiance of him upon their first return home. Beyond him sat the Japanese-American general guy who was the Army chief. Someone named Fujiwara, he recalled. Further left sat a woman whose nameplate ID’d her as the Chief of the National Guard Bureau. That was a change from the guy who’d been there last time. To Poindexter’s right were the Navy CNO, the Marine commandant and the vice chairman of the JCS, who looked to be someone from Army. Poindexter rounded out the seven person ensemble as chief of staff of the Air Force. Behind the big cheese grouping were fifteen or so captains, colonels, majors, a one star general and two admirals who hung about the computer work stations of the airmen who kept tabs on everything in space above Earth. The airmen were members of the 21st Operations Group, Jane’s old unit. Briefly Bill wondered what the food tab might be for such an august gathering. Then he caught sight of the DEFCON alert panel at the back of the room. It was set at DEFCON Two’s Fast Pace logo. The sign that all American armed forces were ready to go to all-out nuclear war within six hours or less sobered his divergent thoughts.

  In the comlink holo, Jane stood up on her pedestal and saluted. Bill and Chester did the same. “Starship Blue Sky and Captains Yamaguchi, Slowzenski, Hodson, Watanabe, Cordova, Hoffman, Wurtzman and Batigula reporting as ordered,” she said. “All eight Collector ships are fully operational and combat ready. General, we stand ready for our orders.”

  Poindexter saluted Jane back while the other chiefs watched closely the flat screen inset into the display table. It showed the images of Jane and the other captains. The black woman’s brown eyes fixed on his wife. “Captain Yamaguchi, I commend you on the capture of another Collector ship, the freeing of 93 Captives and your return here to alert us to a new Alien attack plan. You have shown good judgment, and I am pleased your healer unit was able to revive XO MacCarthy. Very pleased.” Bill stayed standing. He’d not said anything to the Air Force chief about his new battle injury. Clearly the woman to whom Jane reported as her official combatant commander had watched the vidcam records of their battles at the Market world. The trim woman lowered her hand. “Everyone, be seated. Though I appreciate the formal dress worn by each of you. President Hartman is watching this conversation remotely. She may join us at a time of her choosing.” Poindexter gestured to her left. “Chairman McAuley has created a joint combat command with the senior staff of the Chinese and Russian armed forces, and NATO. President Hartman has approved our sharing of all communications from you with them.” The woman paused. “Regarding the 93 freed Captives, please convey all of them to Geneva for internment, in accord with Article 3 of the Fourth Geneva Convention. If any of them wish to volunteer as crew aboard any of our Collector ships, it will be up to each ship captain whether to accept such volunteers. The Slinkeroo volunteers should be delivered to MacDill for DOD processing. They will be treated well and in accordance with how America treated foreign nation volunteers in WWII, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, Desert Storm and similar conflicts. Any questions?”

  Jane, like Bill and Chester and the other fleet captains, had re
sumed her seat. Her arms rested on her seat armrests, fingertips hovering just above control patches. “General Poindexter, your orders are understood. All ships with Captives and Slinkeroo on them will deliver their people as you order, using our transports.” Jane paused, her expression moving from formal to intense. “What is the decision of the JCS and the president regarding my plan for traveling to star system Kepler 62, there to infiltrate the enemy fleet?”

  Poindexter looked to her left at the JCS chairman. “General McAuley?”

  The barrel-chested Marine who’d become more accepting of them after Jane’s collector pod boarding of the invading Collector ships had succeeded, now nodded quickly. “Captain of the fleet Yamaguchi, I must say I too am pleased with the early results of your fleet action at the Market world star. Your removal of its functioning as a place for Buyers to purchase enslaved people met the president’s first order. Your acquisition of the Slinkeroo people as members of our NATO of the Stars is a good start on her second order. However, the state of war that she and Congress declared requires all of us to make adjustments to changed circumstances.” The man’s thick jaw moved to a quick half-smile. “Even me, it seems. It is my desire and the president’s order that General Poindexter will continue to command all combat and other operations beyond the atmosphere of Earth. Therefore, I ask her to respond to your question. Harriet?”

  The black woman who’d early on understood the reality of Jane’s role as the captain of Earth’s only starship nodded back at the JCS chairman. “Thank you Paul.” She looked away and faced Jane. “Captain Yamaguchi, and captains Slowzenski, Hodson, Watanabe, Cordova, Hoffman, Wurtzman and Batigula, the general is correct. We must all adapt and make adjustments as this war evolves. We face a new invasion fleet. It is vital that America and Earth learn everything possible about this enemy fleet. President Hartman has approved Captain Yamaguchi’s four stage plan for leaving four ships here in the Solar system, with the starship Blue Sky leaving to infiltrate the enemy fleet at star Kepler 62.” The woman lifted a glass of water to her lips, sipped and put it down. The sudden silence of the people behind the joint chiefs and their lack of movement told Bill that the crux point of their orders had arrived. “In accordance with the President’s orders, informed by the judgment and experience of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Captain Yamaguchi is ordered to depart for Kepler 62, there to infiltrate the enemy fleet. She will take those actions which, in her judgment, will allow for the capture of additional Collector ships, and the subversion of other ships in the enemy fleet. The Blue Sky will follow the enemy fleet back to Sol system, there to engage in offensive operations as Captain Yamaguchi judges possible.” The woman who had spent years earning her place as chief of staff of the Air Force now frowned. “Captain, you will accept whatever casualties occur while at Kepler 62, but you will ensure that the Blue Sky returns so America and our allies can learn the nature of the enemy fleet. Those are your orders.”

  Jane’s image in the comlink holo, which lay to one side of the JCS chiefs image, stiffened. Her shoulders went back. Her chin lifted. “General Poindexter, General McAuley, I accept my orders. I will do my best to defend the Constitution of the United States, the people of Earth and all allies of Earth.” His wife paused. Bill wondered what she was thinking. Her plan had been approved. But were there other shoes yet to drop? Other complications yet to arise? Surprises that would startle even the JCS chiefs? Jane’s dark brown eyes grew intense. “What is the status of my request for the nine reactivated veterans to join my ship as our boarding crew?”

  Poindexter waved away a colonel who had bent down to whisper in her ear. “Captains of the ships Seafloat, Pointe Du Hoc, Chapultepec Castle and Manila Bay will transfer control of their Collector ships to a crewperson of their choice. The name of each ship will not change. Those veterans now serving as crew on those ships will join their captains in transferring to Blue Sky.” The Air Force general paused, sipped more water, then shifted her attention. “You four captains did excellent work in the battles at the Market world of star HD 128311. I commend your service there and at the Slinkeroo system. The Alien captain of the Manila Bay will be transferred to the prison dome on Mars. The new captains of each ship are permitted to seek volunteer crew from the freed Captives, before delivering the Aliens to Geneva and the UN Refugee Agency headquartered in Geneva.”

  Jane looked pleased. He could tell that, even though her face stayed neutral and her manner remained command serious. “General, thank you for the loan of the reactivated veterans to the Blue Sky. They will be invaluable to our infiltration efforts. One more question, if I may?”

  Poindexter’s curly black eyebrows raised. “Speak your question.”

  “I’ve been informed that you and DOD are moving the Magfield spacedrive engines and nose lasers from the transports aboard the three ships that stayed here into nine Trident subs, similar to what I did with the USS Minnesota.” Jane leaned forward. “May I suggest the same action be done with the 12 transports on the four fleet ships that will stay here? There is time to transfer the engines and lasers from those ships to more Trident subs, and perhaps to the boomer subs of Russia and China. And perhaps subs of Great Britain and France. The seven remaining ships can also fabricate gravity plates and inertial damper units for provision to those subs. If this is done, when the enemy fleet arrives here it will face a spacegoing armada of 22 nuclear missile-armed subs and seven antimatter-armed Collector ships. Twenty-eight ships should be a formidable defense and offense force for America and Earth.”

  The black woman showed brief surprise, then she nodded quickly. “Excellent suggestion Captain Yamaguchi. I will recommend that be—”

  “The president wishes to join us,” McAuley interrupted as he looked up from an iPad in front of him. “Her video signal is now being added to our neutrino comlink signal. Madame President, do you see us and Captain Yamaguchi?”

  Bill’s comlink holo changed. The holo image of the seven chiefs moved to one side, Jane’s image moved to the top, the seven ship captain images moved to the bottom and the image of President Melody Hartman filled the right half of the holo. It showed a fiftyish Anglo woman sitting behind a gleaming wooden desk in the Oval Office of the White House. The woman wore a brown and yellow suit dress. Her shoulder length brown hair had plenty of curls. Her pale pink lips were pursed. But it was the expression in the woman’s blue eyes that made Bill stand up and snap to attention. He saluted her. Richardson did the same. So did Jane, who had also gone to attention.

  “Captain Yamaguchi, you did a good job destroying the Market world compounds of the Buyers, and in capturing another Collector ship,” the woman said in a low soprano voice. Her eyes looked right and left, no doubt viewing the seven Alien crew who shared the bridge with Bill, Jane and Chester. “I appreciate the service of your Alien volunteers, especially the work of Engines Chief Time Marker. Your people are a welcome addition to our NATO of the Stars,” the president said, sounding very matter of fact. The woman, who saw herself as a new FDR leading a beleaguered America into a WWII-like battle for survival, gave them a brief smile. “Seeing you and your fellow ship captains safe at home is a pleasure. But your news of an impending invasion is sobering. I am working with the Russian president and the Chinese general secretary to arrive at a joint command of all spacegoing combat forces. Eisenhower did it. General Poindexter can do it. With General McAuley leading the way down on Earth.” She paused, looked at an iPad on her desk, then up. Her brown eyebrows rose and her blue eyes looked bright. “I viewed the vidcam imagery of that Alien captain. I take his words seriously. I do believe the Buyer society intends to turn Earth into a radioactive cinder. That will not happen!” she said very loudly. To Bill’s right, Bright Sparkle jumped where she stood behind her own Fusion Power station. Hartman’s expression went grim. “I will indeed order DOD and the Air Force Space Command to do as you have recommended. We need nuke and laser-armed subs up in space and ready to fight against any invading Alien ship. The seven Col
lector ships you are leaving behind will be a vital element in our defense. However, with seven billion people at risk of immolation, I am today ordering our military forces to make every effort needed to stop any enemy ship. That includes the ramming of any Collector ship that moves beyond Jupiter. While we will lose good people, brave people, we cannot allow thermonuclear bombardment of Earth. That is my decision and my command. It is a step the leaders of China and Russia support. Captain Yamaguchi, do you have any further suggestions for the defense of Earth and America?”

  Bill felt shock at the president’s words. They echoed Stefano’s offer to detonate a nuke device on the Collector ship controlled by Diligent Taskmaster when it looked as if his buddy’s boarding team might be overrun. Then it brought him military history memories. Ramming of enemy vessels to sink them, or planes to knock them down, had been done in the past. The kamikaze pilots had tried to reduce America’s vast aircraft carrier fleet in WWII. In both world wars individual pilots or ship captains had rammed enemy craft when out of ammunition. All too recently suicide bombers had been the tool of jihadist maniacs around the world as the Islamic State and others sought to take control of the world in the name of Allah. Losing a small crew aboard a sub was better than losing the three million folks who had died during the antimatter bombardment of Kiev in the Ukraine, during the six ship battle. It seemed Hartman well understood the stakes, now that America’s fight for freedom, liberty and an end to slave-collecting by the Buyer society had become known on the 413 worlds of that interstellar evil.

  Jane’s face showed surprise, then understanding as the president’s words sunk in. “Madame President, yes, I do have a suggestion to improve the defense of Earth and our Sol system,” she said calmly as she sat back in her seat. “During the Moon fight against the six invading Collector ships, a thermonuke warhead fitted with a magnetic field sensor detonated close to a Collector ship’s engine section. The plasma ball of the blast melted one of the craft’s two Magfield engines. Those sensors were loaded onto our Trident MIRV warheads and Standard 2 missiles while the USS Louisiana and the USS Minnesota were docked at Naval Station Norfolk. I recommend that America increase production of those sensors and add them to every thermonuke warhead carried by the boomer subs of America and our allied nations. The sensors detect the intense magnetic field of the invisible Collector ships. They are the only human device able to sense anything on those ships.”