EARTH'S LAST WAR (CHILDREN OF DESTINY Book 1)

by Glenn Van Dyke

  The extreme depth of concentration Ashlyn needed to keep her aura locked with Steven’s, forbade her from taking readings of her gauges. “Gena, verbally update my current speed every 4 seconds.”

  “Current speed is, 3.53, 3.46, 3.12, 2.92,” Gena called out.

  Adrenaline honed her instincts to the precision of a surgical knife. Her perceptions sped, slowing time. “You’ve got to give me more,” she said softly.

  “2.74 …” said Gena as the engines gave a sputter.

  “Dammit!” Gena’s calculations were off, and she was far from the 1.98 speed she needed to make the landing. “Gena, divert 70 percent of the fuel reserved for the attitude jets to the main braking thrusters.”

  “2.56, 2.45, 2.37—”

  Ash glanced out her port window and saw that she was losing fuel. Her earlier collision with the enemy fighter had caused more damage than she’d realized. Within seconds, the deep guttural sound of the reverse braking thrusters again began to sputter, “Gena, route all remaining fuel to the mains!”

  It only helped for a moment, her engines quickly coming to a cold, silent stop. Her tanks were empty.

  “Avenger, I’ve gone rogue. Repeat, I’ve gone rogue. My tanks are empty. I have no fuel for course corrections.”

  Though her aura told her that she was still locked onto Steven, her speed was still far too high. Knowing that, she made the only decision she could.

  “Gena, initiate executive auto-destruct command, Ashlyn 34—21—32.”

  “Self-destruct initiated, 10 second warning,” said Gena.

  Chapter 12

  Steven stood at the steel door staring through the thick, glass window into the open bay. He strained, reaching out for Ashlyn. Nothing. He reached deep into his mind.

  Suddenly, cold darkness enveloped him. Brilliant embers of golden-yellow light kindled to life as the fireflies wove their magical pathway through the darkness, drawing him.

  His concentration sharpened, letting him hear and see Gena’s readouts from within Ashlyn’s mind. He saw himself surrounded by the familiarity of dials, tactical displays and system status panels.

  “Current speed is 3.53, 3.36, 3.12, 2.92,” Gena called out.

  “You’ve got to give me more,” he heard Ashlyn say.

  “2.74, 2.56, 2.45, 2.37,” said Gena. Her engines sputtered.

  “Gena, route all remaining fuel to the mains!”

  Steven watched, waited, and then he heard the reverse braking thrusters sputter to a stop. Within the surreal physicality, he became acutely aware of her desperate situation.

  “Avenger, I’ve gone rogue. Repeat, I’ve gone rogue. My tanks are empty. I have no fuel for course corrections.”

  “Gena, initiate executive auto-destruct command, Ashlyn 32f—21—32.”

  Hearing her orders, a crushing pain swept through Steven’s heart, nearly renting it in two. With a stark realization, he saw that she was going to sacrifice her own life to save Avenger’s crew.

  A massive surge of adrenaline surged into his veins, even as he heard Gena say, “Self-destruct initiated. 10 second warning.”

  “No Ash! Don’t!” he screamed. He could not let her go, even to save his crew, even to save his own son.

  The surge of adrenaline sped his perceptions, bringing time to a virtual standstill. Though Ashlyn was dozens of kilometers away, Steven’s mind envisioned her craft with unparalleled clarity. Instinctively, his eyes closed, his hands flattening against the cold, glass window.

  A glowing, pulsating halo of greenish-yellow light formed around his hands and began to grow larger, until it encompassed his entire body. From his pressing touch, the energy emanating from him began to soften and warble the glass. The glass appeared as if it were melting under the heat of a fully stoked kiln. As it bowed outwards, retreating away from him, the rivets upon the seal around the window began to flex under the strain. The door itself creaked, its top hinge began to bend—and yet, he kept pressing harder.

  Grimacing, the set of Steven’s eyes so deep that they seemed about to implode; his jaw clenched so tightly that his bared teeth were bleeding, the bandaged cut on his forehead sending a steady stream of blood down his face showed the physical, outward effort being exerted.

  With his muscles bulging to the point of bursting, his heart raced past 370 beats a minute—but like a bull elephant whose head was butted against the trunk of a deeply rooted tree; he sought only to push harder.

  It was for Ashlyn’s life; it was for his life, that he saw himself braced against the nose of her ship straining to slow it. “I can’t let you go, Ash. I can’t!”

  The reinforcement of his words enabled him to intensify his effort, his focus. His body trembled as he willed for more strength—strength that was given him under the guise of the herculean effort of his physical muscles.

  With the subtlety of an exploding volcano, he let loose a scream driven by his fear of losing her. A massive second wave of energy exploded throughout him, empowering his mind to new levels. The veins in his temples rose terrifyingly, pulsing frantically to his heart that was now racing at over 780 beats a minute and increasing. His own blood was escaping through his pores and yet, his pained face showed only determined composure.

  Such was his focus that his attention never waned to consider what he was doing, of what was actually happening. He was inwardly locked—and wouldn’t have noticed if Avenger had dissolved away beneath his feet.

  Though his hands never left the glass, his mind not faltering, his stomach convulsed and he coughed up blood.

  “I can’t let you—” with one last mighty push, he released every bit of energy within him—then collapsed unconscious to the deck.

  ***

  Hearing Steven shout at her from within her mind, startled Ashlyn like nothing before ever had. Within their shared consciousness, she saw that he was willing to sacrifice all to save her.

  “I’m sorry, my love. I can’t be responsible for Avenger’s death or that of your son!” Just as the time was about to expire, Gena announced, “1.983."

  Though Ashlyn could not explain what had happened, it was enough to give her a fighting chance.

  “Gena, abort self-destruct. Repeat, abort self-destruct.”

  “Self-destruct aborted,” came Gena’s reply.

  “Gena, maximum power to the shields. Cockpit coverage only.

  My God, stand by me now!” Ash uttered quoting Melville’s Ahab, and like the harpoon belonging unto him, her craft came spearing out of the darkness into the bright light that was the whale’s heart.

  Engaging the magnetic skids, her Sharkfin was pulled to the flight deck with a gut wrenching jolt. An ear-shattering screech filled the bay as her Sharkfin’s superheated skids left a trail of dancing orange and yellow shavings in its wake.

  The first of three dampening fields did surprisingly little to slow her craft, but the jolt shattered the weaker parts attached to the fuselage, leaving them suspended midair in the field behind her.

  Her fighter slid into the second, stronger field. The cannon on the nose of her fighter crumpled and tore away, just as her fighter exited the field.

  As her fighter encountered the third and strongest field, her landing skids ripped away, and her craft descended to the deck where it leaned to its left, riding on its wingtip. The rotating intake blades of her left engine exploded, leaving a myriad of flaming debris in the field where it hung suspended. It was a spectacular visual effect.

  The last barrier was a simple old-fashioned net. As the crumpled nose of her ship encountered the mesh, the net tightened, stretching as the hydraulic restraints extended nearly sixty meters. The growing tension ripped the net’s hardened steel alloy mounting brackets from the wall on her right side, freeing the net and sending her Sharkfin into a sweeping arc to the left.

  Ashlyn’s fighter spun round, her craft heading fast toward the bulkhead. Her right wing struck the wall first, the force of the impact shearing the wing off at the fuselage. It twirled end
over end into the air like a thrown knife. Touching the ceiling gently, it came crashing down atop her Sharkfin’s canopy with an ear deafening crunch.

  Ashlyn heaved a sigh, taking her first breath since entering the bay. Peering through the small breaks in the netting, Ash watched as the external bay door closed for the last time.

  The pressurization warning light in the bay changed from red to green. Ash touched her locket, deactivating her armor. In an instant, it retreated into the locket, pinned to her stretch.

  The damage control team came rushing in through half a dozen entrances. Some ran to douse her craft in fire retardant spray, while others began laser cutting away the webbing trapping her craft.

  Below her, she could see the med team in their familiar white uniforms waiting anxiously for the net to be cleared so that they could gain access to the cockpit.

  As the net fell away, Ash hit the button cycling her canopy. Giving a thumb’s up, Ash exited, directing the med team to her passenger in the copilot’s seat beside her. It was with much anxiety that she hovered nearby, waiting until they announced Briggs was still alive.

  The crew surrounded her, giving congratulations, the women hugged her, patting her back—while the men, almost religiously, slapped her butt.

  Briggs, having awakened, caught sight of Ashlyn through the bodies of bustling medics. With a narrow grin and a weak thumb’s up, he thanked her.

  Almost simultaneously, Ashlyn’s thoughts jumped to Steven. She turned searching for him, wondering why he wasn’t there.

  Sensing he was still behind the pilot’s entry door, she broke away from the crowd around her. The weakness she felt in him, scared her, and she began running as she sensed he was in trouble. Nearing the door, she gasped. In the door’s glass were two distinct handprints, each of which was clouded with a light layer of condensation. She reached out, touching the glass with a single finger, doing so in reverence. It was warm, its texture altered to that of pliable plastic. The condensation on its surface was like a sultry body oil.

  Seeing the window’s ruptured seal and popped rivets, the door bowing towards her, Ash marveled at the power that Steven possessed to have done such a thing.

  Straining to pry the door open a bit, she awkwardly squeezed through. A few feet behind the door, she found Steven’s bloodied, crumpled body on the floor, unconscious.

  Dropping beside him, she grabbed his wrist and felt for his pulse. “Oh my god!” were the only words she could utter when she saw how fast it was racing. Lifting his head, his face pale and his body covered in heavy, blood-laden sweat, she tried to rouse him. As if he were dead, his hand fell, rapping on the floor. His open palm revealed rippling, convulsing veins. Ash noted how the air above his hand was shimmering like the heated air above a hot desert road.

  She held him tightly until his pulse slowed and he began to stir. He was drawing energy, strength from her touch.

  His eyes opened to see Ashlyn.

  “Steven, we have to get you up, we’re abandoning ship.”

  “Abandoning ship?” Steven fought to see through the fog clouding his mind.

  “It’s all right, don’t force it. Let’s sit you up against the wall.”

  “Ash, is all this blood from me?”

  “Five minute warning. All personnel should proceed immediately to an available escape pod,” came the warning over the public address system.

  “Yes, it’s yours—but you’re fine. We really have to go.”

  “Ash, we need to get to the bridge,” said Steven—in rising, his balance faltering.

  “Easy there,” said Ashlyn. “Lean on my shoulder.”

  “My cabin is on the way,” said Ash. “I need a minute to grab some clothes and things.”

  “I need to go by my cabin too—I want to get out of these clothes. They’d be hard to explain to Phillip.”

  Inside her cabin, Ash keyed in the numerical combination to her personal safe in the wall and removed a few small items.

  In her dressing room as she quickly changed out of her black stretch. “Do you remember what happened? Do you know how you slowed my fighter down?”

  “Yeah, I remember—I was afraid of losing you. When I heard you start the self-destruct sequence, I don’t know. It was instinctual. I didn’t know I was going to do it.”

  “Well, I’ll thank you later,” she said as she emerged from the dressing room and headed toward the door. “Let’s get to your cabin.”

  Making a quick stop by Steven’s cabin, Ashlyn helped him to get cleaned up and dressed. “Wish we had more time—I‘d love to take a shower with you,” said Ash.

  “That makes three of us!” said Steven, smiling as he slid into his boxers.

  Stratton’s voice came over the P.A. “Last call, all personnel are presumed to be in an escape pod. Launch will commence momentarily.”

  Rushing onto the bridge, though they were more than a hundred million kilometers away, the image of LV-6 filled the screen. It was a world very different from Earth. Shades of tan and brown dominated with smaller areas of orange and red where the crust was broken and lava glowed. “Novacek, tell me what we’ve learned about the planet?”

  “The planet is 2.1 percent larger than Earth—it’s gravity .87 Earth standard. Like the flagship, the atmosphere is 2.2 percent lower in oxygen than optimal, but fully compatible. Only .03 percent of the planet’s surface supports vegetation. The rest is all desert.

  The enemy has one very large, occupied Citadel. At city center is a massive pyramid several times larger than the Great Pyramid of Giza.

  The recon also found a number of larger, very ancient ruins, all of which are uninhabited. What’s odd is that the ruins are vastly superior in design and concept. It’s logical to assume that they were built by a more advanced society than the one that exists now.”

  Adding to Novacek’s description, Stratton said, “And those older ruins are still fairly hot. Organic life would struggle to survive there, even now.

  Best guess is that the radiation is a result of a cataclysmic battle thousands of years ago. The surface is globally pockmarked. Fractal patterns are consistent with those from atomic blasts—if launched from orbit. The blasts fractured the crust—it explains why the planet has so many areas of volcanic activity.

  Scans show virtually no above ground water supply.

  On a better note, the recon buoy has relayed the landing coordinates to the pods. The preliminary survey shows that we’ll have a defensible, uninhabited position—and—one that has water.”

  “If it has water—,” said Steven.

  “Then why is it uninhabited?” said Ashlyn looking at Steven and finishing his sentence for him.

  “Looks like we’re about to find out,” said Steven.

  “Sir,” said Stratton, “We’ve secured the Jupiter Class plasma cannon and the two Titan Class laser rifles from the weapon’s vault.”

  “Good, if we’re all set then—launch the pods.”

  Novacek made the final announcement to the crew, giving them a ten second warning before initiating the breakaway process.

  Outside Avenger, one hundred and fifty pod bay doors opened. Seconds later, the pods in sequential order, began to cut loose. Once free, each pod’s programming engaged the thrusters, sending it to the designated landing coordinates.

  “Sir, with all that’s been happening—I’d not had the chance to tell you that when we cut the Engineering Section loose, forty-seven people didn’t make it out,” said Novacek. “We also lost four others when the plates blew-out during our maneuver round the sun.”

  Steven grimaced. So many lives—lost.

  With all but the bridge team evacuated, Steven and Novacek initiated Avenger’s auto‑destruct.

  ***

  “Phillip?” said Ashlyn patting his knee, “Can I hold your hand? I’ve never been in a pod before. It’s kind of scary.” Phillip’s face beamed, his own fears now evaporated.

  After verifying the securement field was engaged and function
ing, Steven hit the manual eject button. The pod broke away. A moment later, its powerful main thruster burst to life, rocketing them toward the planet.

  Through the rear porthole, Steven was afforded one last glimpse of Avenger. You were right, Renee. Damn it all—you were right!

  A pair of giggles rescued Steven from his sadness. In the absence of artificial gravity, Ashlyn’s hair had risen into the air. Following her example, Phillip scruffed his hair, making himself look like a hedgehog. In unison, Phillip and Ashlyn’s eyes turned to Steven.

  “All right!” said Steven scruffing his hair for them.

  “Looks like a bird’s nest,” said Phillip, the two of them laughing.

  Ash shrugged her shoulders at Steven. “He’s right, it does!”

  It wasn’t long before things settled down. They were all exhausted and before they knew it, they were asleep. The ride was fairly smooth and uneventful until they hit atmosphere.

  Waking, Steven took hold of Phillip’s hand. Ashlyn put her hand out to Steven, completing the circle. Outside, the craft glowed red as its heat shield absorbed the friction-induced heat of a steep descent into a thickening atmosphere.

  The pod experienced a series of strong jolts as the craft caught air, but their air-cushioned containment fields and auto-contouring seats made the back breaker ride seem no harder than being on a merry-go-round.

  “Dad, I have to go to the bathroom!”

  “I told you to use it before we left home, Son,” he said with a small smile. Some things never change.

  The pods shuddering abated, and the three of them sat silently, listening to the sound of the jets making course corrections. Through the large front window, they watched the desert world grow closer until it was streaking by, thirty meters below them.

  Long rows of dunes stretched between tall-spired towers. Canyons, log ago gutted by rivers, now sat dry, barren.

  Six minutes later, the transponder signaled their pod’s passage over the beacon, and the pod dipped sharply as the braking flaps extended. They passed over a forested mountain, which abruptly disappeared, leaving them again staring at an endless sea of sand dunes and spires. The landing alert began flashing faster, signaling their imminent landing.