Meeting in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 3)

by D Patrick Wagner

  “I have another thought. For the Elonians, could you put cooling units in the suits? Make them part of the powered systems?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. In fact, it will be an improvement. Yes, Mack. I can do it.”

  “Great! Cap will go for that.”

  Elonia Senate Building

  Prince Daruke called the meeting. Senator Sanjinan supplied the opulent office. Commodore Lynar attended, as royally asked. After the automated servers supplied drinks, snack trays and left, the three settled in for a very private meeting.

  “Senator, where do we stand?”

  “The Popalya Clan, as you know, is very pro-military build-up. Its elders claw at the ice, frustrated by King Kaporine’s mandate limiting each clan’s standing army. They also understand the need to arm the space fleet. However, it seems that Master Engineer Varrini has a large voice in Popalya’s council. He has forbidden any move to be made against Griffin or its crew. And the council has listened. In that regard, we have lost the Popalya vote.”

  “So we are still one vote shy.”

  “On seizing the human ship and its crew. For now, My Prince. There is one more clan that I believe can be swayed. Sazini.”

  “That clan has been a lick-paw for Father ever since I was born.”

  “This is true, My Prince. However, Sazini is a fearful clan. It reacts to perceived danger. That is the main reason its Elders have stayed close to the King. But we may be able to use that fear against them. Show them the Buster video. The new weapons on the Human ship.”

  “That might work. I am friends with one of the Elder’s sons. I could whisper to him how Father doesn’t see the danger.”

  “I could lay out the design for protecting Sazini from the Humans.”

  “Excellent idea, Commodore. Then that is the plan. Senator, you begin the fear campaign. Commodore, you create a presentation. I will see if I can sway my friend.”

  The Prince’s two underlings saluted from their seated positions, signifying agreement.

  “We must do this quickly. My contact in Wisdom Seeker’s crew indicates that Griffin will be ready for departure in no more than fourteen days. I want the vote for Extreme Circumstances in no more than eight days. It will take a day to assemble the Senatorial Guard and begin the takeover. Eight days, Senator!”

  “It will be done, My Prince.”

  Onboard Ravage Maker

  War sat on his customary command stool, his magnetic boots holding him firmly to the deck. Staring out the wide, forward viewport, he slurped his tongue in satisfaction. His armada of almost a thousand ships stood ready, poised to strike at the heart of the Soft Skins. Science broke his reverie.

  “War,” Science bowed his thorax and head, careful to not achieve eye contact.

  “Yes? Our armada is upgraded? All have the coating applied?”

  ”Yes, My Lord. All is ready.”

  “Excellent, Science. And on schedule. I commend you.”

  “Thank you, My Lord.”

  “Flight. Status?”

  “The armada is ready, My Lord. Full munitions, full supplies, full complement of assaulters.”

  “Attack Craft?”

  “As Materialist promised, all three fleets are fully restored, My Lord. Assault craft included.”

  “We pull out. Flight, command the armada. Head towards the Soft Skin root world. What they call ‘Cencore’.”

  “Formation?”

  “Intelligence?”

  “The Soft Skins have mined the exit to the gate, Lord War. The first wave will suffer severe damage.”

  “Third Fleet leads. The two hundred attack ships will be first to enter and clear the mine field. Bring up the attack craft from Fourth Fleet. Have those follow the Third Fleet attack ships. That should create enough space for the rest of Third Fleet.”

  “At your command, Lord War.”

  Then the sixty frigates, followed by the fifteen destroyers. That should create a safe zone. The six cruisers and three dreadnaughts will be last. Those, plus any surviving ships will be enough to clear the space in this Cencore.”

  “Three dreadnaughts?”

  “Star Killer.”

  “Of course. My mistake, My Lord.”

  “Hold Third Fleet’s assault carrier back. It will follow me after we have conquered the Root World space.”

  “At your command, Lord War.”

  Onboard Odin

  “Mr. Hartman, you have a status report for us?”

  “Yes, Captain.” A nervous Chief Engineer stood at one end of the conference table, directly in sight of Vice-Admiral Weiskoff. Weiskoff’s adjunct sat at the Vic-Admiral’s right, Captain Brewer on the left.

  Pointing at a cut-out hologram of Odin, Hartman began. “As you can see, we have installed the X-cannons and their fission reactors. The triple X-cannon is mounted on the nose, as planned. The three double barrels are top center, bottom center and stern. All fiber-optic cabling is in place and preliminary testing is completed. When we finish the repairs, we will be set for a live test.”

  “Good work, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “A moment, Gentlemen.”

  Captain Brewer paused as he listened through his embedded cranial net.

  “Vice-Admiral, there seems to be a Federacy scout ship approaching. Heimdallr.”

  “How did it get here?”

  “They didn’t say, Sir. They expect a three hour arrival time.”

  “Have them land in Odin”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  Captain Brewer mumbled into his throat mic and returned his focus to the meeting.

  “She will land in bay six, Admiral.”

  “Set up an immediate meeting. With the full crew.”

  Captain Brewer mumbled again. “Done, Sir. The meeting is scheduled for this room, four hours from now.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Mr. Hartman, you may proceed.”

  For the next two hours, three superior officers grilled the hapless Lieutenant on everything currently under upgrade and repair, everything needing upgrades and needing repairs and the general status of Odin. A very sweaty Chief Engineer left the meeting, relieved that he would live to see another day.

  “If Mr. Hartman is accurate in his predictions, and he always has been in the past, we will be taking our first test run within the week.” Captain Brewer announced.

  “Not soon enough. Where do we stand with the civilian fleet, Mr. Clark?

  ”According to Doctor McCauley, they’ve been cranking out X-cannons and arming every ship that comes by. Single cannons, each. The idea being that, if one of these unarmored vessels get hit, they’re gone.”

  “How many?”

  “Last count, three hundred, sixty-one. That was two days ago. They’re arming four to five a day, now.”

  “Every bit helps.”

  “And platforms. Doctor McCauley took your concept of the radiation bomb and expanded on it. He’s designed a slightly mobile firing platform with multiple weapon clusters and a centralized X-cannon. It also is a radiological bomb. Everything automated. He’s building a control center in the asteroid. When enough of the enemy ships get close, the platform can be remotely detonated.”

  “I don’t like him or that snake of a boss of his. But, he is good at his job. Why he never joined the Federacy, I will never understand.”

  “Vice-Admiral. Heimdallr is due for landing just outside of an hour. Shall I order supper to be delivered here?”

  “Yes, Captain. Do that.”

  Onboard Heimdallr

  “Almost there, Cap. Odin is requesting control.”

  “Give it to them, Brooksy.”

  “Done, Cap. Toast. Why is Odin tethered to an asteroid?”

  “There’s something inside. I’m reading a lot of heat radiating from the tether between Odin and the asteroid. A lot of electromagnetic waves. There’s a lot of equipment running in there.”

  “In Arium. I wonder if it is a Fed
eracy secret base.”

  “Not sure, Cap. I’m not getting any kind of friend/foe squawks. No communication transmissions at all.”

  “Someone really wants to keep this place secret.”

  “If we weren’t right on top of it, we would think it was just a dumb asteroid. Not worth noticing.”

  “Approaching the bay, Cap. Entering, now.”

  Everyone watched the monitor as Odin’s flight control brought Heimdallr in for a soft landing and lock down.

  “Touchdown, peeps. Home away from home.”

  “And a bath.”

  “And no more smelling Brooksy.”

  “And decent food.”

  “Got a com, Cap. Vice-Admiral has requested our presence in his conference room.”

  “Get changed, peeps. Clean up. Informal dress. Make me look good.”

  “Can’t be done, Cap. Me, maybe.”

  “Again with the delusions.”

  The three crewmates, and comrades, scrambled around, wiped down the sweat, donned their semi-formal uniforms and prepared to meet the Big Brass. Fifteen minutes later Captain Scott presented himself at Heimdallr’s exit hatch. The watch officer stood at attention, waiting for the request.

  “Permission to come aboard, Officer of the Watch.”

  “Permission granted.”

  “Welcome aboard, Captain.”

  “We have been requested by Vice-Admiral Weiskoff.”

  “Yes, Sir. I have been instructed to lead you directly to his conference room.”

  “Our home station is Thor. We can find our way.”

  “The Vice-Admiral was rather explicit, Captain. Sorry, Captain.”

  “No Problem, C.P. Lead on.”

  “This way, Sirs, Ma’am.”

  “Ma’am.”

  “Shut it, Brooksy.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. Shut.”

  In silence, Heimdallr’s crew followed the Chief Petty Officer to their destination. Upon entering, all slammed to attention and saluted.

  “Captain Scott, with Lieutenant Torres and Lieutenant Brooks reporting, Sir!”

  Captain Brewer rose and saluted. “Welcome aboard, Scotty. Sit.”

  “Sir!” Captain Scott motioned to his people and all three took the far end of the table, the Captain centered with Torres and Brooks, right and left, respectively.

  “Captain Scott.”

  “Vice-Admiral Weiskoff, Sir.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Number Two, sorry, Vice-Admiral. Fleet-Admiral Weiskoff tasked Heimdallr with locating Odin and escorting it home, Sir.”

  “How did you get here, Scotty?”

  “We are berthed on Thor. When the aliens flooded Bridgelen, Captain Russell was forced to retreat. He left Heimdallr behind to scout and collect Intel. We got pretty good at hiding from their ships. Anyway, we collected the Intel and launched buoys through the Cencore gate.”

  “How long have you been sailing?”

  “Six months, Admiral.”

  “And you’ve collecting Intel all this time?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Continue.”

  “A little less than two months ago, we were repurposed. We were ordered to locate Odin. And, here we are.”

  “Why did it take so long?”

  “No one had any idea where you had gone, Admiral. We knew that Odin wasn’t destroyed. No debris field. Thor recovered the crew of Skadi. And the alien derelict. We passed that Intel back to Cencore. But Captain Young, nor any of his crew, knew where you had withdrawn. We started with Novius. When we didn’t find you there, we moved on to Corrinar. Then here. That and the slow traversing around the alien armada made for slow travelling, Sir.”

  “What’s the message?”

  “No message, Sir. Just to find Odin and for you to contact H.Q. as soon as possible.”

  “That’s it? Father thinks I’m out here, twiddling my thumbs? You said you’ve been collecting Intel and sending it back to Cencore.”

  “That is correct, Sir.”

  “Captain Brewer, would you have your people receive this Intel and set up a presentation so that we can see what’s been going on since we’ve been cut off?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “One more thing. Have Heimdallr fitted with an X-cannon.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “An X-cannon, Admiral?”

  “Yes. The only thing that will hurt those bastards. I’m building a fleet out here. You’re now part of it.”

  “But we have been ordered to return to Cencore, Sir.”

  “Well, I just overrode that order, Captain Scott.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  “Return to your ship, transfer the data and prepare for engineers to inspect your ship, design the installation.”

  “Sir!”

  “That will be all, Captain Scott.”

  The three crewmates rose, saluted and left the conference room.

  “Nasty piece of work, Vice-Admiral Weiskoff.”

  “He’s got a lot on his plate, Brooksy. Let it slide. Toast, get the Intel transferred. I’m going to run down the C.P. and get some quarters on Odin. I know we all love our little sneak-about, but, like a teenage daughter, you need to get away from her every once in a while. And each other.”

  “Copy that, Captain.”

  Oishi Scout Team

  One of Nyu Nippon’s verdant forests. Its thick overhead canopy blocked most of the direct sunlight, casting everything in shadows and strange shapes. The nightly rains kept the forest damp, soaking the ground and detritus. Insects scuttled through the damp groundcover, buzzed around the branches and leaves or sat on the growth, doing what needed to be done to survive. Small and large game periodically broke from cover, either through fear or aggression, continuing the chaotic cycle of life. Against this background of raw nature, the two Nightshades slinked under the trees and through the bushes, senses sharp, reflexes ready to act on any sound or motion out of the ordinary.

  The first three days brought quiet solitude for Oishi and Juro, threatening them with dropping into complacency and lowered awareness. Now short on rations, the two deadly assassins found their food by bow-hunting game and foraging for edible plants. This slowed their trek to their destination. Oishi and Juro used their chameleon suits and solar equipment sparingly, the darkness of the forest limiting the recharge rate of the solar cells.

  Day four brought back the reality of their pursuers. As always, Oishi controlled his drone, constantly searching the surroundings, searching for opportunities or dangers. This morning he spotted danger. Another alien patrol had worked its way into the forest, unknowingly blocking the Nightshades’ path to their destination.

  “Hold,” Oishi signed.

  Juro held.

  “Patrol. Three clicks.” Oishi used a flat hand to point the direction, the same direction which the two Nightshades needed to travel to find the weapons cache.

  After setting the drone for a high-altitude watch over the alien patrol, he secured his tablet, and took point, stealthily closing the distance with their hunters. The two Nightshades came within fifty meters and held position, behind trees and with weapons at the ready.

  “We climb,” Taketa signed. “Wait them out.”

  Juro powered his chameleon suit, appeared to disappear and began climbing the tree Taketa had indicated. Once he found a stable perch, he withdrew his rifle and, by feel, checked the invisible weapon, assuring its readiness.

  Once Taketa saw his Mappai follow his orders, the Nightshade Sousui switched on his own chameleon suit and repeated Juro’s actions.

  After reaching a high observation branch, Taketa settled in, prepared to wait out the alien patrol. That didn’t happen.

  The sniffer bug, hunkering on its six appendages, raised it snout and extended its tongue. Lapping at the air, its head snapped to the direction of the two Nightshades. With quick clicking sounds, it began to move. The other aliens grabbed their weapons and followed.

  The sniffer wandered, c
onstantly stopping and tasting the air. Following its tongue, it arrived at the base of Taketa’s hide. Circling, it found the side of Taketa’s ascension. It stopped, licked the tree and clicked even louder and with more excitement.

  The four aliens circled the tree and stared up, obviously searching. With their strange weapons raised, they kept looking, twisting their upper thoraxes to get better views, better lines of fire

  Juro fired first. Two quick shots from his silenced rifle killed two aliens. The remaining two began firing up Taketa’s tree. He pressed hard against the trunk, avoiding the energy beams that burned through leaves and branches, punching holes in the canopy. Juro fired again. Another alien died. The remaining alien ducked behind Taketa’s tree, now knowing where the deadly fire originated. He raised his weapon for return fire. Taketa shot him directly in the head, exploding alien gore onto the tree and across the ground. One more of Juro’s shots put down the sniffer.

  “Move!” Taketa shouted.

  Both, still invisible, clambered down their trees and sprinted in their original direction. Juro grabbed one of the alien weapons in passing. Dropping into a ground-consuming run, the two killers ran the rest of the day. No thoughts of food or rest crossed their minds. They drank water as they ran. And they kept running. Four hours in, the chameleon suits quit, their batteries drained. Taketa and Juro winked into existence. Two hours later, two totally exhausted Nightshades dropped to the ground, wolfed down raw meat, grabbed berries and grasses then wolfed those down. Taketa pulled out his tablet, re-established his control over the drone and searched their trail.

  “Good. Twenty kilometers back. They needed to move slowly, looking for ambushes. Bad? Three patrols. Twelve aliens with weapons. Three sniffers.”

  “We just outrun them.”

  “That will just postpone the inevitable, Juro. We need to find water again. Lose them there.”

  “See any?”

  “Ahead. A lake filled by a waterfall. Here’s the plan.”

  Trotzig

  The Tolimar board, with Lawrence, stood in the middle of the huge, man-made cavern. They all wore helmets with sound-dampening and local communication capabilities. The grinding and crushing din of the giant machines gouging out the interior of the mountain made the wash of discordant noise physical, vibrating chests, barraging the observers with waves of bludgeoning sound