by Derek Baker
The training had been intensive, but almost easy to master after the flight to Mars in the small Wendran scout ship. What took a long time for a weaker atmospheric ship took matters of hours to navigate for the warships. My instructor had given me high marks, and had explained the tactics of Martian fighters in the void of space. Sometimes we used simulations, other times he let me travel to the surface and fly around for hours across the barren Martian landscape.
Sometimes he showed me where great Martian cities had been once located, sometimes we looked at where the great river had used to flow. Another time we flew over Olympus Mons, gazing into the cone of the volcano. Nothing compared to the volcanoes on the third moon of Oria, he’d told me.
One time, after continual begging, we’d gotten special permission to land on the surface and hike around for an afternoon. I remember the gravity feeling even funkier as I walked around, feeling the suit cling to my body from the sweat I had built up. Claire had sent me straight to the shower that evening when I returned.
The way fighters were designed to fight was in trios, the whole idea being that each gender was represented in each single unit. I wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be sexual or simply a means of tightening the bond between the three pilots, but I was assured it was latter.
My trio was composed of myself, being the Abb, another young woman that was human named Stacy Herbert filled the Nei position, and a Martian Eto named Lar’Taum’Sev filled the third slot. Ke (that was the pronoun the Martians gave the Etos, pronounced key) was an ambitious student out of the Tai Military Academy, vastly interested in humans. It made ked (possessive pronoun) day when ke found out ke was to be assigned with two humans.
I remembered only hours before how my parents had shown up at the chaotic base. My father, unaccustomed to the gravity, fell face first into the ground when he sprung toward me at the spaceport.
“Dad! Are you okay?” I remembering calling to him as my mother looked on in horror.
We rushed to his side, turning him over to find him in uncontrollable laughter from making a fool of himself. We couldn’t help but join in the hilarity. I brought the both of them to my apartment where Claire and Violet were staying with me. It was a last of happiness before my tablet rushed me off back to the spaceport to report for duty.
I was able to drive myself in the six wheeled vehicle this time. A last glimpse of freedom, a final drive through the city. I felt the cool damp breeze envelop me, and suddenly I felt more alive than I had ever felt before. For a moment I considered turning around, to say goodbye one more time, just to be sure. I wanted to live.
After the abduction, the torture, the escape, the misadventures on my first trip to Mars, my near drug overdose, the reunion with my family, the clamoring of media and crowds, the intensive interviews, the rewards, the flight training, I couldn’t be a casualty in this war to defend Earth.
I had to live.
I had purpose now, but I was still trying to figure it all out.
My life was worth living now.
“This is Admiral Gup’Dis’Sev, prepare your engines for launch, my pilots. This is the day we’ve been waiting for. For the Martians, this is will prove to be a crucial battle that may turn the tides in the continuing war against the vile Wendrans. For the Humans, this is your home. You have everything to fight for. What happens in this battle could decide the fate of your species. We’ve done all we can to prepare you, and now it’s time to put that preparation to the test.”
I nodded solemnly, fighting tears from forming in my eyes in the cockpit. I looked over to my fellow pilots Stacy and Lar’Taum’Sev. I had never trained with them before, but I was assured by Gup’Dis’Sev that they were among the highest performers such as myself. I had only greeted them an hour before, sharing mutual words of graciousness and well wishes. We all had to train in trios before, so we knew what to do. We had to look out for one another, fly together, and kill together. Singled out we could fall prey easily to the adversary, but united we functioned efficiently, as a team.
The newly promoted Admiral continued his speech: “Let me recite an old Martian passage of wisdom and strength:
Zim baray yu rilan
(Stay strong and intelligent)
Poy oppagia dahn
(My little one)
Zim wahndra yu ignap
(Stay honorable and true)
Var flen cosah tarkap
(Until the stars die)
Zim lai zu flen chahta
(Stay away from the rust)
Zim lai zu flen krahta
(Stay away from the darkness)
Yu sahng makadai, poy oppagia dahn
(And most importantly, my little one)
Zim baray yu rilan.
(Stay strong and intelligent).
~~~~~
23/06/2135.
That’s what the date read on my controls. A year ago to date, I had been hibernating on Captain Riquaor’s Tinzyick. The time had now come, vengeance was ready to be mine. There was no turning back now.
The fighters, cruise vessels, battleships all rose effortlessly, with their varying shapes and sizes, toward the tunnel that lead to the surface. My heart began beating faster. I watched my hands without thinking utilize the controls before me, a second hand skill to me now. I could fly in my sleep if I wanted to. Well, perhaps not. But drunk, sure.
“Galihue, take middle,” said Lar’Taum’Sev, the Eto of the group.
“On it.”
My mind was a swirl, but I tried to keep it from getting sucked down into the abyss. I used my family as a motivation, as my guide, my tool. I locked into the middle of the trio, quickly passing through the long corridor that separated the subterranean Mars from the surface. Our speed began increasing as we climbed higher.
We broke the surface, noticing we were engulfed in night. The stars beckoned us, twinkling in the Martian sky as we ascended towards space. The engines were rearing up for post-atmospheric hyper speed for the quick commute to Earth. I looked down at the Martian surface, now miles below, wondering if it would be the last time that I’d see it.
Entering into orbit, the fleet as a whole assembled. The force was even more impressive, managing to keep organized even without the notion of up or down. Fighters were at the front, bigger vessels in the middle, with the giant battleships in the rear. Fighters were most dispensable; that was obvious. Any loss was better than losing a battleship. They were key. The exact targets we were after on the opposing side.
The Admiral’s voice once again came over the comms: “ETA to Earth is forty-five minutes. Once we come out of hyper speed, we’ll be in a swarm of Wendran ships. Everyone knows their position and place, as well as their objectives. Engage.”
In unison the entire fleet blasted into space, engines at full capacity. My mind was ablaze the whole time, thinking this could be it.
~~~~~
“You think me a fool, general?” The Emperor concealed his rage well, merely stroking his chin with a questioning stare in his eyes. Quansor knew these expressions well. Albalon was a master at emotions; it was part of his prowess.
“All I’m trying to say, your highness, is that the Prince’s rightful place is at the command of the army,” this General was cocky, apparently unafraid to stand up to the Emperor.
“While tradition is a main priority for me, I think it unwise to put my successor at such a high risk, especially considering his value to me and the Wendran species as a whole,” the Emperor was seething, though he would never show it if he so chose, “Also, since you’re the one suggesting such a silly folly, I might interpret this move as one of cowardice, my dear General.”
Now the man got the familiar look of desperation in his eyes. “Not at all, my lord, it is only a concern with tradition. After all, it is something you highly emphasize, sir.”
This man is committing suicide, Quansor tried not to roll his eyes.
The Emperor finally let go of his self-restraint, now shouting back at the General, “Are you fucking stup
id, General? Would you really question me like this? Are you really that fucking stupid?” He burrowed his face in his palm, a shameful expression.
“I…uh…” the General had just now found himself at a loss for words. Too late for him.
“I’m just…so appalled that killing you right here right now almost seems stupid in itself.” The Emperor rose from his seat at the head of the table, pacing quickly back and forth, with short, quick steps. “Either get the fuck out of here right now and we forget you suggested such idiocy or I can use my latest torture device on you.”
Without a word the General rose, turned around, and nearly sprinted towards the door, turning the corner outside.
The Emperor looked back at Quansor, a bewildered expression in his face. “What kind of people work for me Quansor? Huh? Fucking morons? I can’t have this right when we’re stepping up the war effort. Our invasion armies are going to be on the ground on Earth within the hour and the entire Martian fleet is going to be prowling down on top of us. Not to mention the pathetic but tiresome excuse for resistance from the humans. I can’t be dealing with this kind of bullshit. Not now.”
Quansor was afraid to say anything, worried he might further enrage the Emperor. He chose a safe route: “It would definitely be a bad move to put Beltrush at risk like that, my lord.” He sensed Albalon’s doubts and fears. He’d worked with the tyrant long enough to know what he had to be thinking.
The risks were great for this battle. The Robhustare suicide fleet, though no one would admit, did enough damage to cause reasonable worry. But on the other hand, Wendra had thus far never lost a major battle. Especially one so pivotal, one that could settle the final score between the Wendran Empire and the Robhustare Democracy.
Quansor also ventured the guess that part of Albalon’s reasoning for not putting Beltrush at command of the army might give the already dazzlingly brilliant Prince a notion of power that was too great for his father to be comfortable with. It was the Emperor that ran the show, everything regarding the raising of his prized child was by his own calculation. Beltrush would reign when Albalon died, and no sooner. Never would Beltrush be given even the temptation to try to change that.
The Emperor’s continuing pacing brought him back to cooler temper. He took a deep breath, said with a renewed commanding tone: “Well Quansor, are you ready to watch the battle?”
“Quite, your highness.”
The Emperor pressed the button at the table that brought down the screen on the opposing wall. Admiral Traquir appeared on the bridge of the main mother ship, the Zuaraq, the Wendran word for domination.
“Ah, just in time, my lord,” the Admiral smiled and bowed.
~~~~~
Earth appeared helpless before the Wendran fleet, its surface in the same manner it had looked for thousands of years before the last re-shifting of the continents. Green. And Blue. Lots of blue. The blue is what the Wendrans wanted.
Our fighters neared the proper range to begin our respective objectives. Admiral Gup’Dis’Sev’s battleships had already begun long range missiles at the opposing fleet. The Wendran mother ships were quick to retaliate. From what I could see, their fleet was situated in such a formation that it was obvious that they expected to a front battle: one front being the intercepting attack from space, the other coming from the surface of Earth. This was the front that truly mattered, though. The sooner we could get them to focus their attention on us defeating us, the sooner they’d lessen their attack on innocent civilians. Not that they cared. If they could have it their way, we and the Martians would go extinct for standing in the way of their fight to control.
Commander Vok’Lem’Boark, the head of the array of fighters, began instructing us on our maneuvers. He was somewhat of an outsider in Martian affairs, the city of Boark being far outside the main concentration of Martian cities. Rather than being the typical intellectual hub that Martian cities were known for, Boark was a mining center, responsible for gathering raw materials from both underground in the Martian crust as well as the nearby Asteroid belt. In effect Vok’Lem’Boark was a sort of rogue individual, known to take risks that a more cautious commander would never dare. He was a nice fit for his position.
“…if you no want to blow up, come up from under, guys. Aim for fuel, if that be the right word.” His voice over the comms betrayed his slow learning of English. He then proceeded to repeat the orders in the Martian tongue, making sure he’d said it right.
“Lar’Taum’Sev sent me a personal message: “He’s right, fuel cells.”
“Thanks,” I sent back.
The fighters began diving to get a better angle on the important ships. Descending, I noticed Wendran fighters approaching from kilometers away.
“Incoming!” the commander barked over the comms.
Their group of fighters coming to meet us wasn’t huge, but strong enough to try to thwart our plan. Suddenly they began firing, taking out some outlying ships with their automatically aiming lasers.
“Fire at will!”
I took one hand off the flying controls and put it on the laser lever, bringing down a visor to guide the general direction in which the laser would shoot before meeting the unlucky target. Just like training. Multi-tasking, no problem.
I fired within seconds, and with the passage of an equal amount of time, Wendran fighters began to blow up in front of us. Still more started coming our way. They knew our plan.
A huge clump of the Martian fighter trios headed towards the nearest Wendran mother ship. We flew in a unified pattern, organized but sporadic at the same time to make us harder to shoot for the enemy’s lasers.
“Remember the fuel need large fire power aimed right so it blow up,” the Martian commander reminded us.
The firing volleys back and forth grew more intense, but our force remained intact. We pressed onward toward the mother ship, using precious opportunities to each take aim and fire at the fuel cell.
Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a flame erupted from the fuel cell, a sign that a chain reaction was about to take place.
“Fall back, don’t wanna get caught in blow,” the Commander ordered quickly.
We did as he said, watching a series of explosions move up and down the vessel. Then, with a sense of finality, the entire vessel disintegrated into oblivion.
Applause and celebration filled the comms for a brief moment. One down, who knew how many more to go. We circled around to head off towards the next mother ship. The rest of the fleet was trying to deal with the rest of the armada in their own ways. We were at the forefront, plunging headfirst in the heat of affairs.
We repeated the same pattern as before, meanwhile the numbers of fighters slowly dwindling and getting separated. Some were unluckily singled out and subsequently destroyed. My trio remained towards the center of the rows. It was a like a video game, only much beyond my imagination it was real.
Another mother ship destroyed by our collective effort. The Wendran fighters were starting to bring reinforcements, bigger ships and bigger guns. They weren’t too pleased about this attack from behind.
We neared a third mother ship, preparing for the next charge.
Stacy Herbert, the female of our trio, suddenly cried out: “Galihue! Watch out!”
My head jerked up; fully alert with eyes darting around trying to find an incoming laser.
Then a brilliant white light surrounded me.
Chapter 24
“Suit up, boys.” The officer said, opening the back of the armored hummer.
A pile of rifles lay in a heap, only they looked unfamiliar to Evan Coholte and his posse.
“These armed, sir?” he asked with a questioning stare towards the officer.
“All I know is, pull the trigger. They’re Martian rifles. Barely have to aim, almost like they’re heat seeking bullets or something.”
His squad members each grabbed a rifle, feeling them up for comfort and holding them in firing positions as if they were about to take a shot. One of t
hem muttered: “I don’t understand why wouldn’t just blow the whole damn city up.”
“They wanna invade and colonize, private. If they destroy everything, they’ll have to build everything up all over again. Too costly and risky, they don’t wanna interfere with the water supply, which is what they’re after,” answered the officer.
“So they’d rather go through each city one by one and kill us all off? That’d take a thousand years.”
“Not with their technology. ‘Sides, as long as they had the important cities and sites the rest of the planet would hardly give them anything to worry about. Just let the rest of humanity gradually die off or die when trying to attack their newly established strongholds.”
“Well that ain’t gonna happen, officer, not today.” The young man bore a cocky posture.
“I wish we were all as confident as you, private.”
The hummer pulled away to arm the next squad.
They walked back to the main entrance of the hospital, caressing their new guns.
All other entrances to the building were barricaded, making them the guard against any ground invasion forces that might think it wise to attack the sick and injured here in Baltimore.
Evan Coholte had been part of the secret service, but with a long gone President it was safe to say he was left to find a different career. He decided to join the army, a comfortable alternative, or so he thought.
Still, he wasn’t too far from home. His wife and son were in a bomb shelter somewhere in D.C. He wasn’t just defending his family or his country. He was defending his species.
The squad took their places in the improvised barricade at the entrance. Little did they know of what other battles were happening right at that moment in other parts of the world.
“Think we’ll see any action?” the same Private asked.
“Don’t know, shut up and find out, kid.”
~~~~~
The sand dunes towered around, but they held the high ground. The coalition forces had been firing artillery at the landing ships for a good twenty minutes now, hoping they would be discouraged and go away. But troops continued pouring out of these ships, tall and savage looking, the first aliens that many of these men had seen in person, even if kilometers away in the desert.
