Four Tomorrows: A Space Opera Box Set

by James Palmer

  “Sweetheart,” her mother said warmly. “I was just thinking about you earlier. It’s been a few days since you called. How are you? Are you eating enough? Getting enough sleep?”

  Natalie smiled during the onslaught of familiar questions. She knew better than to try and interrupt. “I’m good, Mom,” she said when her mother stopped to take a breath. “Listen, I can’t talk long. We’re shipping out in a few minutes and I just wanted to let you know I’d be off planet for a few days. You know how I hate for you to worry.”

  “That’s sweet, honey. So where are they sending you this time?”

  “I can’t say, Mom. Secret.”

  “Oh.”

  “But, I’ll stop by and tell you all about it when I get back, okay?”

  “I’d like that. It’s been a while since you last visited.”

  “I know, Mom. And I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been so busy. You know how it is.”

  “All too well.” Silence filled the distance between them. “How’s your father?” Samantha asked after a moment. The look on her face reminding Natalie that the divorce remained a painful subject for the former Mrs. Maxwell Vortex.

  “Dad? He’s good. Under a lot of pressure these days, but otherwise he’s fine.”

  An announcement rang overhead calling for all last minute crew to report to the Bounty’s Pride for immediate dust off.

  “Look, Mom, I’ve got to go,” Natalie said. “I’ll call you when I get back. I love you.”

  “I love you too, sweetheart. You be careful. I’ll talk to you when you get back.”

  “I will, Mom. Bye.”

  The screen went blank.

  Natalie disconnected the communication line before reinstating the lockout. She knew she should not abuse her position that way, but the last minute call to her mother had become one of those traditions that Natalie favored as good luck. Why jinx it now that she and Dad are no longer married?

  Samantha was still her mother. Nothing would ever change that.

  With her tracks covered, Natalie Vortex ran down the corridor from her office toward the landing ramp to the Bounty’s Pride.

  The ship couldn’t leave without her.

  The Bounty’s pride took point.

  Moving into the lead position, the marshal’s ship would lead the assault fleet directly to the Earth System.

  It was only vaguely apparent in Marshal Maxwell Vortex’s face that this was not just another mission. There were many people in the galaxy that could benefit greatly from Earth being open to everyone. Many of the population problems could be solved in one swift stroke.

  Solving that problem would also trickle down into his world by reducing the crime rate.

  The problem Vortex faced was a moral one. Whatever the Earth Liberation League represented, they were breaking the law. As marshal, it was his job to uphold the laws of the United Planetary Alliance and the Alliance. Whether he approved of them or not.

  Maxwell Vortex assembled his team on the bridge of The Bounty’s Pride, where he would control the actions of the fleet in the coming operation. Experience taught him not to expect the task to be an easy one. But then again, what mission is ever as easy as expected?

  He surveyed his handpicked command staff.

  He had worked hard to assemble a team that worked as well as his command staff.

  They had trained and prepared to face difficult missions like the one that awaited them at Earth.

  First there was Lt. Commander Allison Grady, his second in command. The very model of efficiency and professionalism, she issues orders with stern authority, pushing those under her command with the strength of a hardened commander. She also followed orders from her superiors with equal fervor. The marshal had been very lucky the day he had met her at the UPA Academy. She had impressed him, and Maxwell Vortex, then a starship captain, watched her career with awe. When she graduated, second in her class, he asked her to come to work for him. He had just been named to replace departing Marshal James McKeen. She jumped at the chance. He had never regretted his decision. He hoped neither had she.

  Next was Natalie Vortex, the marshal’s very own daughter. Her mother had worried so when she had joined the service to be closer to her father. Although extremely proud of her, the marshal pushed her just as hard as any other recruit. Often harder. She had excelled in communications and electronics at the academy. Her youthful exuberance also helped build moral as she routinely inspired those around her to strive for more. The down side for the marshal was that nearly every man in the marshal’s Office was enamored with Natalie. As a father it was damned infuriating to see so many people he knew asking his daughter out. If only he could restrict her to quarters until she turned thirty. An idea he rather liked, but one dismissed as fruitless. As resourceful as his daughter was, she would probably find a way around it anyway.

  Standing next to Natalie was Deputy Chris Walker. Deputy Walker’s particular claim to fame was his boast that he could drive damn near anything on, above, or below the surface. A theory he’d had multiple opportunities to test while under the marshal’s command. To date he had driven nearly every kind of wheeled vehicle known to man, piloted several shuttles of various sizes and speeds, and even the occasional boat. The boat opportunity did not present itself often as there were no large bodies of water on Mars, but once had been enough for the young hotshot to add it to his growing list of bragging rights. Deputy Walker stood roughly a head shorter than Marshal Vortex; his short-cropped brown-red hair almost glowing against the Martian landscape. Although he tried to keep in shape, he’d had trouble with his weight recently. It was nothing he couldn’t keep a handle on with a little exercise, however.

  The marshal liked Chris Walker and knew him well, having spent a good deal of time with him on maneuvers and in training. The only issue Marshal Vortex had with the young pilot was the simple fact that he was currently dating his daughter, Natalie. No matter how much the marshal liked and trusted the man as a colleague none of that mattered once he started dating his little girl.

  And then there was Dexter Freeman. A rather large individual, Dexter stood nearly seven feet tall, towering over everyone in the room. All muscle, he was built like a tank. The marshal remembered Grady once jokingly refer to Dexter as a “brick shithouse.” Luckily, the big guy thought it was hilarious. His strength was nothing short of amazing. After their first encounter, Marshal Vortex knew that he wanted this man on his staff. Dexter brought heart to the team in addition to a vast physical presence. His primary duty was to maintain the ready status of the weaponry. He also prepped The Bounty’s Pride for launch. Dexter truly liked his job, never complaining. A trait the marshal, a man not known for hiding what was on his mind, only wished he possessed.

  The marshal exuded professionalism.

  His staff exemplified it.

  They made a good match.

  A good team.

  The marshal’s staff stood at attention on the bridge of The Bounty’s Pride. “At ease people,” the marshal began. “As you are already aware, this fleet is heading into a potentially dangerous situation. I want all stations at battle ready. Let’s finish this up fast and without any bloodshed if at all possible.”

  “Yes, sir.” The voices respond in unison.

  “Commander Grady?”

  “Marshal?”

  “Commander, I want you to take an assault shuttle and prep for launch. In the event of a space battle, which I’m afraid seems likely, I want you in charge of the small fighters. Coordinate with the commanders of the other ships when we form up with them.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, trying to hide the excitement welling up inside her. Grady lived for action, thrived under the challenge.

  “If they give you any grief, Commander, tell them to take it up with me.”

  Looking directly at the marshal, she smiled mischievously. “I anticipate no problems, sir.”

  “Good.”

  “At least nothing I can’t handle,” Grady added with
a hint of playfulness.

  The marshal nodded. “I see,” he said, adding a smile of his own.

  “Natalie.”

  His daughter stiffened at the sound of her name. “Sir?”

  “I want a communications link with the fleet. We need to remain in constant contact once this starts.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Mr. Freeman, I want you to help with prepping the commander’s shuttle for dust off. Have her ready to fly within the hour.”

  “Yes, Marshal.”

  “Boss?” A hand went up on Natalie’s left.

  “I hadn’t forgotten you, Mr. Walker.” The marshal sized up the deputy. The younger man met his bosses’ scrutinizing gaze. “You have a question?”

  “Yes, sir. Request permission to join the commander’s assault detail.”

  “Denied,” the marshal said. “I want you here. I have a special job suited to your… unique qualifications.”

  “Sir?”

  “Take over the conn from Ensign Phillips. I want you holding onto the Pride’s reins.”

  “Yes, sir.” Walker was clearly stunned. He had never flown the Bounty’s Pride into combat. Usually, he served as Grady’s wingman. “Yes, sir,” he repeated excitedly as he moved to the station where Ensign Phillips sat.

  “That’s it. We don’t have a lot of time, people. Let’s get it done.”

  A chorus of ayes and yes, sir’s responded.

  Marshal Vortex walked away from the group, stopped, before turning back to face Walker. “Oh, and Mr. Walker?”

  “Boss?”

  Try not to crash my ship, okay?”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Walker said with a smirk.

  “What more can I ask? Let’s get to work, people.”

  In unison the deputies snapped off a simultaneous salute. The marshal returned the gesture before his command staff moved off to their assignments.

  The marshal settled into the plush captain’s chair on the upper tier of the bridge. He watched with interest as Chris Walker took his position in the pit on the lower level. Ensign Phillips respectfully vacated the main pilot’s station, shifting over to the co-pilot station. The marshal had informed her of the change before the briefing. As he had expected, the ensign had not complained. She was a professional. If she saw her being replaced as an insult she kept that opinion to herself. Phillips would fill in for Grady on the bridge while she led the squadron outside.

  “Marshal.” Natalie called out to her father. “I have the fleet on line. They are awaiting your orders, sir.”

  “Thanks, Nat,” he said, standing to address the view screen, waiting for Natalie’s signal to begin.

  Opening a channel, Natalie connected him to every ship in the fleet. Some would see him on their respective screens while the smaller ships with voice only capabilities would only hear the audio. The marshal wanted everyone in the fleet to hear what he had to say simultaneously.

  “Attention. May I have everyone’s attention please.” He paused for a heartbeat. “As you are already aware, we are heading into a potentially dangerous situation. Within less than an hour we will arrive in orbit of the planet Earth. That is not our goal however. There have been several threats made against the Alliance recently and the policies handed down by the Legislature. More than a few of those have been verbal attacks on the legislature’s perceived non-actions involving the planet Earth.”

  “Those individuals that have something to say have every right to do so under the articles of the Constitution. However, the individuals we will soon be facing have gone past the talking stage and have attacked an Alliance installation. That cannot stand.”

  The marshal walked down the ramp to the lower level, the automated computerized camera following him so the other ships could still see him.

  “As of one hour ago, the space station known as Space Lab was attacked by an unknown vessel. It was sheer luck that they were able to send out a distress call. An Alliance starship was nearby and responded to the call for help. They were also attacked and nearly destroyed. At present we are unable to make contact with either the station or the starship for an update.”

  He paused, allowing the severity of the situation to set in. “Therefore,” he continued. “We are to expect the worst and hope that we have assumed this incorrectly. Our job is to stop these terrorist threats as swiftly and cleanly as possible. Make no mistake, this can quickly escalate into a pitched battle. We are all putting our very lives on the line.”

  He steps in close to the camera, his face transmitted to the fleet. “However, I have every confidence in each and every one of you. You have been trained by the best and brightest the United Planetary Alliance has to offer. This is what we were trained for. I know that when the chips are down each and every one of you will rise to the challenge. And we will win this day a great victory for way of life. Our job is to save lives, and right now we are the only hope for those people out there. That’s the speech. It’s the only one you’ll get from me today. Let’s saddle up and ride. Our party is waiting on us. Let’s go get them.”

  With that the communication line was cut, the marshal returning to his command area. “All hands prepare for hyper velocity.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “All commands report ready, Marshal,” Natalie reported from the communication station at the rear of the bridge.

  “Let’s do it.”

  The ships leapt into hyperspace, speeding their way toward Space Lab and the battle that lay ahead. The marshal sat back in his chair. “Good luck, people,” he said quietly as the thrum of the hyperdrive engines rumbled through the decks of the Bounty’s Pride.

  “And Godspeed.”

  24

  Alliance Starship Ulysis

  James McKeen had always considered himself a fairly resilient man.

  Over the years he had faced dangers that would have made even the toughest of men cringe. Sometimes his mind forgot that that he was no longer as strong as he was all those long years ago when he had been young and seemingly invincible. Not to mention stupid.

  Unfortunately his body took perverse pleasure in reminding the admiral of his own limitations. He discovered quickly that he was not amused by the fact that his body was nowhere near as strong as he remembered it to be. Somewhere along the line his body had dulled while his mind had remained as sharp as ever. The thought that he was getting older had never really crept up on him.

  Until now.

  A fist connected with his face. He rolled with the punch, or rather was rolled by the punch. Slumping over, he tightened against the impact from the floor. Surprisingly, the impact did not happen. He had forgotten the ropes holding him tight to the chair. No, not forgotten, his arms had gone numb. There was no more feeling left in them.

  Resuming his struggle to free himself from his bonds was once again interrupted when the fist raked across his face for the tenth time. At least he thought it had been ten times. He had lost count after six. He had also lost consciousness, which was a good excuse for not keeping count. He could taste the iron twang of blood in his mouth. That last shot had been a good one. In the old days he would have fired off a smart-ass remark or two at his captors. You know, show them who really was boss here.

  That was then.

  In the here and now, he was faced with the startling realization that he was no longer in charge struck at the very core of his being. For a man who had always grabbed each situation and charged forward, it was a bitter pill to swallow to learn that you were helpless. That someone else has control over his very existence gnawed at him as his own blood trickled warmly down his chin.

  Catching a glimpse of his assailant moving in for another punch, McKeen braced himself. This time he was ready.

  The fist swung toward his face. McKeen abruptly turned his head in the direction of the attack. It was a Herculean effort, but the payoff resounded loudly throughout the room as the fist struck the metal of the admiral’s prosthetic faceplate. He took great relish in squeal o
f pain as the assailant’s fingers broke on impact.

  The admiral allowed a small triumphant smile play across his lips as the large man dropped to his knees, cradling his injured right hand in his left.

  “Smooth move dumb-ass,” he said, the words barely audible as they escaped his bleeding lips. “Broke at least three of them, I’d wager. Heh!” At least he could still fire off the quick comebacks. I’ve still got it.

  It was a small victory to be sure, but it felt good.

  His victory, however, was short lived as the fist of yet another mysterious assailant caught the admiral unaware. He rolled to one side in pain as the other man in the room laughed at his misfortune.

  The woman was also there, but she had remained a spectator. He could sense her presence, sitting just beyond the shadows, out there in the darkness watching with extreme pleasure as her two bruisers beat him senseless. She had been in the corridor before, he remembered. It had taken some doing but he had been able to get the drop on her and her cronies when Lt. Melvin Jeffries had shown up during the attack these idiots had set for the him. That had been in the city section of the Ulysis. The admiral and Lt. Jeffries had managed to stop the attackers.

  Or so they thought.

  There was one other assailant in the corridor, hidden in the shadows. Neither of them had seen him. Th fourth assailant had leveled an energy weapon at both officers. They had no choice but to allow themselves to be carted away or be killed. What good would we be to anyone if we’re dead?

  Admiral McKeen had hoped that he and Jeffries would be kept in the same room, but that plan was rendered moot when their captors had separated them. “Where’s Jeffries?” he stammered, his words as slurred as before.

  “Shut up.”

  With the word came pain as the beating resumed in earnest.

  As with all prisoners, the admiral swore never to break under the strain. He had managed to stay focused all those years ago in the Scavenger’s prison. He had not let them break his spirit then. He was damned sure not going to let these idiots break him now.