Jane noticed that in her comlink holo, which held the images of all seven JCS chiefs, General McAuley’s full lips pursed. No doubt the Marine was not happy at losing four future starships. She lowered her salute.
“Madame President, thank you for that information. I believe the efforts of those subs that died in the fight to protect Earth warrant the action you suggest.” She paused, knowing this was not the time to whine. Or demand. Still. “May I ask about your plans for my current fleet?”
The Anglo woman stepped forward to her desk and stood behind her padded seat. She rested her hands on top of the seat. Her eyes and expression moved from formal to . . . to conspiratorial. “Tell me, Captain, what is the current status of our armed forces?”
“We are in a state of war as declared by Congress. Our enemy are the 413 star systems that make up the Buyer society,” she replied, hoping she had said what the president expected to hear.
“Correct,” Hartman said, her tone almost a snap. “That state of war will exist for some years yet. Like the war on terrorism, we must seek out and destroy the primary military forces of the enemy. Tell me, what are the enemy’s primary military locations? And forces?”
Jane licked her lips, raking her mind for the details. “Primary military locations are the ship mind nursery asteroid in system Kepler 443, and a new Collector ship factory in system Kepler 66. There are 59 Market worlds scattered among the 413 star systems that contain Buyers. The Buyer society controls at least 50 operational Collector ships,” she said. What was her commander in chief aiming at?
Hartman nodded slowly, her face expectant. “Two more questions. What do the new Collector ships built by us and by our Megun allies need in order for those ships to operate most effectively? And what actions would most damage the Buyer society?”
Ahhh. “President Hartman, all new Collector ships require a ship mind AI to be most effective. The self-aware AIs make possible the small five or six person crews on each ship.” She paused. “We could achieve the most harm on the enemy by taking control of the ship mind nursery at Kepler 443 and by destroying their new factory at Kepler 66. We would thereby gain ship minds for our new ships. And we would make any new enemy Collector ships less combat effective.”
“Exactly.” Hartman blinked. Her blue eyes peered intensely at Jane. “While I will always seek the advice of my JCS chiefs, it appears obvious that the next job for your fleet of starships is to take command of the ship mind nursery at Kepler 443, then travel to Kepler 66 to destroy the new ship factory. I have no doubt that in doing these two tasks, you will fight and defeat more enemy ships. You would also destroy all Buyer compounds on any Market world that you encounter.”
Her heart thudded. More long, long trips away from home. Still, her tours of combat duty were no longer than those currently faced by aircraft supercarriers and many Navy subs. The seated figure of Chester reminded her of a question that must be asked.
“Madame President, what about the NATO of the Stars mission that you sent us out on? Vice Admiral Richardson did a wonderful job in negotiating our treaty with the Slinkeroo.” Jane took a breath. “I sent that data to Peterson along with the audio vidcam records of our travels and encounters.”
Hartman’s eyebrows lifted. Her expression went thoughtful. Finally she snapped the fingers on her right hand. “I still believe in the NATO of the Stars. Humanity and America need more allies. Continue visiting the star systems of your Alien crewmates. Seek their membership in our alliance. In particular I hope to gain the assistance of the Megun people who repaired your Magfield engines,” the woman said. “That makes three objectives for the next time your USS Blue Sky leaves the Solar system with many of your current Collector ships. Think you can handle that?”
“I can,” Jane said firmly, still maintaining her parade rest, forward leaning posture. “However, my ship needs a rebuilding of its topside plasma battery and hull repairs over its Collector Pods Chamber. Can my ship, and the USS Musan, receive priority repair assistance at the ship factory you put into orbit?”
“They can,” Hartman said, her tone becoming conversational. “And I believe the five ships you captured in the enemy fleet system need additional crew. They are now operating with just three crew each. Correct?”
Jane nodded quickly. “Very correct, madame president. Hopefully we can gain new special operations crew members while our ships are undergoing repairs. And resupply of food and essentials.”
“I am sure General Poindexter will handle the new crew and supplies matters very nicely. As she did earlier.” The woman who was the leader of 315 million of her fellow citizens squinted, then smiled slowly. “Ship repairs do not require the presence of the ship’s captain. Will you, your XO, your entire crew, and the captains of your Collector ships join me and my husband for dinner at the White House?”
Jane felt surprise, then understood. This woman faced a new presidential election in two years. She had no doubt the woman would ask Congress and the states to approve a third term for herself. Then she would run a patriotism-infused campaign similar to what FDR had done during World War II. She didn’t mind. This woman was the strong, decisive leader America needed in a time of deadly threat to her nation, the Constitution and the world.
“I will be happy to join you and your family at the White House,” Jane said. “We will come down in our transports, rather than the Blue Sky, if that is agreeable?”
“Very agreeable. I believe your transports can fit onto the South Lawn. No need to fence off the Ellipse, like last time,” Hartman said amiably. Then she went intensely serious. Her face became that of a leader who knew she commanded. “Once your ships are repaired, new crew added and supplies provided, you will travel to Kepler 443 to capture and hold the ship mind nursery. After that, you will attack the new ship factory and find new allies for our NATO of the Stars alliance as conditions permit. Those are your future orders. I look forward to seeing you this evening at the White House.”
Jane saluted the woman once more. “I accept my orders. I and my crew and fellow captains will attend your dinner tonight.”
“Good.” Hartman looked aside, then forward. “General Poindexter, General McAuley, send me the names of every human who died in defense of America, our Constitution and Earth. I will make personal contact with the survivors of each lost combatant.”
“It will be done,” Poindexter said.
The image of Hartman disappeared. Leaving her facing seven seated JCS chiefs. The Air Force chief pursed her lips, then shrugged. “Well, you heard what the president wants. As did we. Take low Earth orbit. Move your ship to the ship factory complex you will see as you arrive. While you wait for your other ship captains to arrive, bring yourself and XO MacCarthy down to Peterson. We folks here in Building One and Two wish to see you in person.” The woman smiled. “After all, you have to be here so I can pin your brigadier general’s silver star on your shoulders, and for Weapons Chief MacCarthy to receive his lieutenant commander’s oak leaf.”
Jane laughed. “Exactly so. My XO and I look forward to seeing you, the rest of the JCS and the officers of our allied nations.” She sobered. “The Russian, Chinese, British and French sub captains were fine men. I wish to present short vidcam records of each ship’s combat actions to the allied officers behind you.”
Poindexter’s amiable mood shifted to formality with a tinge of sadness. “We will welcome you both to our abode. Your offer of vidcam records will, I am sure, be appreciated by the liaison officers of those nations. See you in two hours.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bill watched as Lofty Flyer moved the Blue Sky into a 240 mile equatorial orbit above Earth. Rather than use their engines to hold position above Peterson, they would orbit like normal satellites. And rockets. His true space holo showed rockets lifting off from French Guiana, Baikonur and Wenchang Launch Center on Hainan Island. His Weapons control pillar depicted each rocket lifting off along with their vital characteristics. It was an Ariane 6 rising from
Guiana, an Energia taking off from Russia and a Long March 5 rocket departing from China’s new spaceport on the island that lay at the northern end of the South China Sea. All were heavy lifters, similar to the American super heavy-lifter SLS rocket that produced 7.2 million pounds of thrust. He recalled the SLS was more powerful than the Saturn V moon rocket of decades ago. Ahhh. His Weapons holo added another rocket outline and data just as the bright flare of a rocket appeared in his true space holo. An SLS was lifting from Kennedy Space Center in Florida. The trajectories of all four rockets were projected for an orbital track close to the giant hulk that was the Collector ship factory that orbited just 20 miles ahead of them. He looked back.
“Captain, Jane, any news on what those four heavy-lifters are bringing up to orbit?”
His wife, who’d just returned from a brief nap in their habitat room suite, lifted her eyebrows, then nodded. “Yup. Part of the orbital action update I got on my iPad from Peterson. Those rockets are bringing up prefab sections of what will become humanity’s first spacedock.” She half-smiled. “Looks like the prez is aiming to imitate the Megun facilities. I suspect some of our Collector ships will be pressed into bringing stuff up.”
That mattered not to him. The system graphic on his left showed only human-controlled ships and subs were present in the Solar system. Jake’s ship Tangi Valley, and his saloon buddies’ ships Fallujah, Moberly, Harken and Musan, were just passing Mars on their way to a rendezvous with Earth. The Musan had been pushed onto the proper vector by Jake’s ship. She would be put into orbit next to the ship factory hulk by one of his drinking buddies. There were only eight left now, with the loss of Mark. At least Stefano was close by in the Neil C. Roberts. His SEAL buddy would join them for the White House dinner. In about seven hours or so. Which made him think of another question.
“Captain, will the spouses of our other ship captains be able to join us at the White House?”
In the comlink holo on his right, Jane gave an easy smile. “Of course they can! And those spouses on other ships like Lorilee and Helen, Learned Escape and Builder of Joy, will join their spouses. Here or on other ships. The ship minds can handle ship matters when every bioform is off ship.”
Her easy smile left him feeling up. His wife had carried a tremendous load ever since they had returned from the Slinkeroo system. He hoped there would not be any media vidcams at the dinner tonight. No need for them to be more of a worldwide celebrity than they already were. He’d turned off his iPhone as they arrived in orbit precisely to block pestering calls from CNN, BBC, Daichi Shimbun and the Times of London. But there was one person he wanted to talk to. See even.
“Captain, my sister Joan lives in Denver as you know. We’re heading to CSprings to meet the JCS folks. She could drive down there. Any chance I could pull her onto our transport and take her to the White House dinner?”
In the holo, she smiled at him. “Bill! You are becoming almost civilized!” Like him and everyone else, she was out of her tube suit and wore her Air Force Blue jacket and pants. He too wore the Navy version of dress-up. Her dark brown eyes looked him over, then she winked. “You’ll do. For the JCS, for Joan, for the prez and for me.”
Bill sighed, then looked back to his wife, lover and captain of the starship that had been their home for more than a year. He gave her a thumbs-up, then leaned on the right side armrest of his seat, keeping her alive, beautiful face in view. He never wanted to lose her. She might be his ship commander, but she was the core of what made normal life worthwhile. Plus, she understood what Duty, Honor and Country meant. Along with freedom, liberty and free choice.
“Thanks,” he said. Then realized what the president’s orders also meant. “Uh, any idea whether one of our crewmate’s stars lies on the way to Kepler 443? I’d love to do some sight-seeing before we get combat serious.”
Jane blinked, her expression sobering as the fact of them being on active duty status hit her once more. Damn. He’d hoped to ease her load.
“I agree,” she said, her mezzo-soprano voice filling the space between him and her. She nodded to Chester, who was watching their byplay. As was Bright Sparkle, who had a big grin on her face. “Well, the Megun people’s star of Kepler 452 is very much aligned with the vector track to Kepler 443. And it is just 1,400 light years away, versus the 2,541 light years to 443.”
Bright Sparkle’s green eyes grew very wide. Beyond her, Wind Swift turned toward them, her red eyes scanning Bill, Jane, Chester and Bright Sparkle. “My star also lies in that direction. You call it Kepler 22. Captain Jane, my people would welcome a visit from you and your fleet.”
His wife looked thoughtful. “Wind Swift, I would love to visit your star system. And yes, it lies on the same vector track. It is also closer than the Megun system. Your world is just 620 light years distant from Earth. Maybe we can visit both the Cheelan and Megun systems on our way out to Kepler 443?”
“Yes!” barked Wind Swift.
“Wonderful,” spoke Bright Sparkle’s speaker/vidcam.
Jane looked back to Bill, her thin black eyebrows rising. Her oval face had an impish look on it.
“Well, Mr. Tourist Man, you up for adding two more members to our alliance, before we tote our antimatter projectors into Kepler 443?”
Bill grinned. At last, there were some bright spots in his future. “Yes! Very much yes. Would love to see what Wind Swift’s world is like. And I’d love to return to the world where we got married. Maybe we could celebrate our first anniversary of being married?”
Jane looked puzzled. “Uh, that’s still six months away. We’ll be heading out in a few weeks.”
Bill shrugged. “I meant our next monthly anniversary! You up for celebrating that? Again?”
His beautiful, brave and amazing wife smiled like a nova rising in the east. “Yes!”
And with that the future for Bill became something he looked forward to. He had been bored on desk duty at Coronado. He’d been bored in Denver while being retired. Now, thanks to being kidnapped by a giant cockroach, he was doing things he’d never imagined. And he was meeting people who sure as hell did not resemble him, Jane or Chester. That was just fine! He turned back and fixed his gaze on his true space holo. The yellow-orange flames of four ascending rocket ships told him his future, with Jane, was going to be one damn fine adventure!
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T. Jackson King (Tom) is a professional archaeologist, journalist and retired Hippie. He learned early on to question authority and find answers for himself, thanks to reading lots of science fiction. He also worked at a radiocarbon dating laboratory at UC Riverside and UCLA. Tom attended college in Paris and Tokyo. Tom is a graduate of UCLA (M.A. 1976, archaeology) and the University of Tennessee (B.Sc. 1971, journalism). He has worked as an archaeologist in the American Southwest and has traveled widely in Europe, Russia, Japan, Canada, Mexico and the USA. Other jobs have included short order cook, hotel clerk, legal assistant, telephone order taker, investigative reporter and newspaper editor. He also survived the warped speech-talk of local politicians and escaped with his hide intact. Tom writes hard science fiction, anthropological scifi, dark fantasy/horror and contemporary fantasy/magic realism. Tom’s novels are FIGHT THE ALIENS (2016), FIRST CONTACT (2015), ESCAPE FROM ALIENS (2015), ALIENS VS. HUMANS (2015), FREEDOM VS. ALIENS (2015), HUMANS VS. ALIENS (2015), GENECODE ILLEGAL (2014), EARTH VS. ALIENS (2014), ALIEN ASSASSIN (2014), THE MEMORY SINGER (2014), ANARCHATE VIGILANTE (2014), GALACTIC VIGILANTE (2013), NEBULA VIGILANTE (2013), SPEAKER TO ALIENS (2013), GALACTIC AVATAR (2013), STELLAR ASSASSIN (2013), STAR VIGILANTE (2012), THE GAEAN ENCHANTMENT (2012), LITTLE BROTHER’S WORLD (2010), ANCESTOR’S WORLD (1996, with A.C. Crispin), and RETREAD SHOP (1988, 2012). His short stories appeared in JUDGMENT DAY AND OTHER DREAMS (2009). His poetry appeared in MOTHER EARTH’S STRETCH MARKS (2009). Tom lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA with his wife Sue. More information on Tom’s writings can be found at www.tjacksonking.com/.
PRAISE FOR
T. JACKSON KING’S BOOKS
EARTH VS. ALIENS
“This story is the best space opera I've read in many years. The author knows his Mammalian Behavior. If we’re lucky it’ll become a movie soon. Many of the ideas are BRAND NEW and I loved the adaptability of people in the story line. AWESOME!!”—Phil W. King, Amazon
“It’s good space opera. I liked the story and wanted to know what happened next. The characters are interesting and culturally diverse. The underlying theme is that humans are part of nature and nature is red of tooth and claw. Therefore, humans are naturally violent, which fortunately makes them a match for the predators from space.”—Frank C. Hemingway, Amazon
STAR VIGILANTE
“For a fast-paced adventure with cool tech, choose Star Vigilante. This is the story of three outsiders. Can three outsiders bond together to save Eliana's planet from eco-destruction at the hands of a ruthless mining enterprise?” –Bonnie Gordon, Los Alamos Daily Post
STELLAR ASSASSIN
“T. Jackson King’s Stellar Assassin is an ambitious science fiction epic that sings! Filled with totally alien lifeforms, one lonely human, an archaeologist named Al Lancaster must find his way through trade guilds, political maneuvering and indentured servitude, while trying to reconcile his new career as an assassin with his deeply-held belief in the teachings of Buddha. . . This is a huge, colorful, complicated world with complex characters, outstanding dialogue, believable motivations, wonderful high-tech battle sequences and, on occasion, a real heart-stringer . . . This is an almost perfectly edited novel as well, which is a bonus. This is a wonderful novel, written by a wonderful author . . .Bravo! Five Stars!” –Linell Jeppsen, Amazon
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