by Ken Lozito
Captain Raeburn Gibson was a tall man with unusually long arms and torso. His thin dark hair was cropped and his glassy eyes were framed too close together, giving him the appearance of someone who was constantly glaring, although in Raeburn’s case that might be true.
“Captain Barker, my PM has informed me that we’re behind schedule with the power converter,” Gibson said.
Gibson was part of Field Operations and Security and not part of the CDF, so Noah didn’t have to report anything to him. Though their ranks were similar, Gibson was in charge of security, but he’d taken it upon himself to meddle in other work that didn’t concern him. He was just supposed to keep the peace and run evacuation drills. Noah was convinced that Gibson had been assigned to Sanctuary just to get him out of the hair of whoever sent him here. He had no idea who, but he was sure that was the reason.
Gibson cleared his throat. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on that this morning?”
Noah frowned and shook his head. “This doesn’t really concern you.”
Gibson’s sidekick was an imposing man named Barnes. If Gibson was the brains, then Barnes was the muscle. Barnes glared at Noah, and the rest of the security detail waited to take their cue from him. They were all armed with shock sticks.
“You’re mistaken, Captain,” Gibson insisted.
“Really,” Noah replied. “You’re not part of the CDF, and Field Ops doesn’t have any authority over what I do with my time.”
Gibson nodded and pursed his fat lips together as if agreeing with what Noah had said. “Ordinarily you’d be right, but in this state of emergency, Field Operations and Security is granted special authority. Sanctuary is a civilian installation and anyone within its boundaries, including CDF soldiers, are under my jurisdiction,” Gibson said.
Noah couldn’t believe it. This idiot thought he could actually strong-arm him. “That’s crap and you know it. If you think you can stroll around here, throwing your weight around, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Sergeant Barnes took a step toward him, glaring menacingly, but Gibson placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. Much to Noah’s surprise, the large man actually stepped back. What kind of hold did Gibson have on the man to make him so obedient?
“If I find that you’re bullying these people, I’ll have a squad brought in here so fast you won’t know what hit you,” Noah said.
Gibson’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Tread carefully. Things won’t always be this way. Change is coming, and you’ll need friends if you want to survive.”
“Go bother someone else,” Noah replied.
“Get back to work, Captain Barker. If you don’t get the power converters online, Sanctuary is defenseless,” Gibson said and walked away, leading his team.
Noah glared at them in disgust. The colony’s finest, but fear made people do stupid things. Some people froze and were unable to take action, while others seized the opportunity to grasp at anything to make themselves feel secure.
Noah did need to check with the engineering teams working on the power converters. They couldn’t just connect their equipment to the alien power station. They needed a relay to convert the power so it would work with colony equipment, which was easier said than done since the alien power station was prone to overloads and they couldn’t figure out why. Noah glanced up at the sky. He bet Kara could have figured it out.
15
Captain Walker waited for Specialist Thoran and Lieutenant Chester to return. Sending them back to their shuttle to deploy a comms drone had been the right call. Meanwhile, the Vemus soldiers continued to devote all their attention to the trapped salvage team.
“Shouldn’t they be back by now?” Corporal Sims asked.
“Let’s give them a few minutes more,” Jon replied.
Lieutenant Chester had strongly suggested that they send in a request for backup from Lunar Base, and while Jon was anxious to save his brother, he had to concede Lieutenant Chester’s point. It should only take an hour to return to the shuttle and deploy a drone. Jon glanced at the time on his heads-up display and saw that they were rapidly approaching the hour mark.
He’d taken the risk that most of the Vemus soldiers were inside the munitions factory area trying to get to the salvage team. Some of the Vemus soldiers continued to slam their fists on the wall, but the bulk of their group waited. Having carefully observed them for the past hour, Jon had the feeling that the Vemus weren’t trying to get into the room where the salvage team was trapped so much as keeping an eye on them.
Sergeant Lee squatted down next to Jon. “What do you think of the plan?”
Jon looked over at him. “Once we start, it’s not like we get a do-over. They’ll know we’re here.”
They’d been running reconnaissance around the area, looking for a safe way to extract the salvage team. Jon had even considered using the weapons on the combat shuttle to poke a few holes in the area nearby. He’d hoped to draw the Vemus soldiers away, but Sergeant Lee pointed out that it was a terrible idea. Blowing more holes in the wreckage of the ship could make this place even more unstable than it already was. When Jon had pressed Lee to go along with the plan, Lee reminded him that if he persisted with it, they ran a greater risk of killing the salvage team rather than saving it. Instead, they’d placed explosive charges in the adjacent tunnels, hoping that it would draw the Vemus away from the salvage team to investigate.
“Are you sure we can’t try opening a comlink to the salvage team?” Corporal Sims asked.
“Too risky. The reports from when the Banshee was captured were that the Vemus are able to detect comlink signals, so if we use them, we’ll give away our position,” Jon answered.
He’d read the reports released by CDF intelligence. They’d disseminated the debriefing from the soldiers involved and sent out useable intelligence throughout the CDF. Jon remembered reading it and thinking it was interesting, but he hadn’t expected to use that knowledge. Combat suit-to-suit communications in close proximity didn’t require a comlink broadcast, so they were safe from the Vemus detecting them for now. The range wasn’t that extensive or else they’d be able to speak with Lieutenant Chester and Specialist Thoran back on the shuttle. Jon wanted to go back to the munitions factory door and look through the window but decided against it. Why tempt fate at this point? They knew what was there. A few combat drones would have come in handy at this point, but they didn’t have any.
A few minutes later their overdue team members made it back to them.
“Run into any trouble?” Jon asked.
“No, sir. But we got no response from Lunar Base,” Lieutenant Chester said.
Jon frowned. “Not even an acknowledgment?”
“Nothing. We sent out a comms drone and waited for it to get beyond the Vemus jamming signal and return. No response, Captain,” Lieutenant Chester said.
Jon looked at Specialist Thoran. “What do you think it means?”
“They should have gotten our transmission. Unless the Vemus can somehow travel at the speed of light and are attacking right now, I think Lunar Base has been ordered to go into communications blackout and couldn’t respond even if they wanted to, Captain,” Specialist Thoran said.
Jon grimaced. “Dark-Star status. I didn’t even think about that.”
The other members of the team considered it for a moment.
“It would explain their lack of response,” Lieutenant Chester said.
“Yeah, but that means there’s another Vemus attack force out there,” Corporal Sims said.
“It also means we’re on our own. It’s safe to assume that they got our transmission but weren’t able to respond,” Jon said.
“Would they send another team anyway, even if they couldn’t respond, sir?” Sergeant Lee asked.
Jon looked at them all and shook his head. “No. Not with another attack force on its way. The priority is New Earth and keeping Lunar Base’s location a secret.”
Specialist Thoran’s face became pale. �
�We have to get out of here.”
“We’re not leaving without the salvage team,” Jon said firmly. He looked around at all of them. “We can’t leave our people behind. They’d do the same for us, and they might have learned something important.”
Sergeant Lee nodded grimly.
Lieutenant Chester nodded as well. “We’re with you, Captain.”
Jon felt the muscles in his chest loosen. “Thank you. You’re all heroes. Now let’s get this done.”
Lieutenant Chester snorted. “Let’s just get them so we can get out of here in one piece, sir.”
“Alright, enough with the pep talks. Lee and I did some recon while you were gone. We’ve placed concussive charges . . .” Jon went over the plan he’d laid out with Sergeant Lee. It didn’t take long to explain since it was relatively simple. Too bad it wasn’t going to be easily executed.
“Were you able to bring what I asked you?” Jon asked.
“We only had one on board,” Lieutenant Chester replied and gestured over to the heavy case he’d been carrying.
Jon must have been getting tired because he’d completely missed the fact that Lieutenant Chester had brought the case.
“And the ammunition chest is over there, sir,” Lieutenant Chester said and frowned. “Are you sure you’re alright, Captain?”
Jon nodded. “I’m fine. I just didn’t see that you had the case. We need to place the heavy turret at the far end of this corridor.”
He was counting on the Vemus to investigate the concussive blasts, only to walk into the path of their only heavy turret. It should rip them to shreds, giving them time to get the salvage team out of there.
A violent shudder spread from the floors and down the corridor. Power lines inside the walls began to overload, sending showers of sparks until fire control systems cut them off. At least the safety systems were still operational.
“That was another impact,” Lieutenant Chester said.
Jon nodded. “We’ve got no time to waste. Let’s get moving.”
The five-man rescue team left the area. They’d set up the turret and then observe the Vemus soldiers before executing the plan.
16
Connor sat in his office aboard Phoenix Station. The cup of coffee Corporal Faulkner had brought sat untouched, having long since gone cold. He’d lost the taste for coffee since his time on the Vigilant when someone had tried to poison him. While he didn’t believe that anyone here would be trying to murder him, he just couldn’t look at a cup of coffee the same way anymore. Perhaps he should try tea, but what he really wanted was something a lot stronger.
“General,” Dr. Richard Allen said, sitting across from Connor. “I realize the timing of this news is delicate, but with all that’s been happening, I wasn’t sure when a good time to disclose the information would be.”
Connor drew in a breath and sighed. “And you’re certain this is accurate?”
“Quite certain, General,” Dr. Allen said, meeting Connor’s gaze.
“Are there any others in the same condition?” Connor asked.
“Yes, General,” Dr. Allen answered, and Connor’s eyes widened. “With a crew of ten thousand, there’s bound to be more than one. I have a list prepared.”
Connor leaned forward in his chair and shook his head. “The ones who’re unaware is one thing, but for the people who knew and didn’t report it—that’s another.”
“Sir, these are extraordinary times we live in. We’re all coping with the threat the Vemus represent in our own ways—” Dr. Allen said.
“I understand,” Connor said and rose from his seat. “I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. Send your list to Major Quinn and we’ll get it sorted out. I’m due to return to the Command Center,” he said and left his office with Dr. Allen following.
“Good luck, General,” Dr. Allen said.
“Good luck to us all,” Connor said.
Sean was standing a short distance away with his security detail and walked with Connor on his way back to Phoenix Station’s Command Center.
Sean eyed him for a moment. “I take it the news from Dr. Allen was significant, sir?”
Connor nodded. “Let’s just say you were right about Colonel Cross.”
They walked into the Command Center, where the CDF soldiers on duty were actively working at their stations. The countdown timer on the main holoscreen was mirrored on Connor’s own internal heads-up display, but he glanced at it anyway. The first salvo of HADES IV-B missiles would be in target range soon.
Connor headed to the command area where Colonel Cross waited. She met his gaze and something unspoken passed between them. Her eyes narrowed and she glanced away for a moment. Then her shoulders slumped before she squared herself away.
Connor stood next to her with his hands clasped behind him. He could feel the tenseness coming off of her in waves. He glanced at the barely perceptible pooch in her midsection. “You should have told me,” Connor said quietly.
Colonel Cross looked at him and was about to reply.
“Alpha missile group closing in on target. Command-and-control units have the target marked,” Captain Thorne announced.
Connor looked at the main holoscreen. The alpha missile group was the farthermost away from the Vemus ship. They’d been modified to maximize their speed, reaching forty percent relativistic speeds, which meant that as the Vemus Alpha crossed Sagan’s line, the fifty-four-million-kilometer distance would be covered in under eight minutes. Twenty of their modified HADES IV-Bs were carrying fusion warheads.
Connor and the rest of the CDF soldiers on Phoenix Station waited.
“Detonation signal received,” Captain Thorne said. “Confirmed detonation of all twenty missiles,” he said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.
Millions of kilometers away from them, the Vemus Alpha ship was blindsided by the CDF missiles. Layers of the exoskeleton sloughed away almost immediately, burning away in chunks. Large gaps began to appear on the hull of the massive ship where the CDF missiles had delivered their powerful payloads.
“Bravo and Charlie missile groups are closing on the target,” Captain Thorne announced.
Connor knew those missiles moved much slower. That was why they’d waited to send the alpha group until the other missile groups were in position. A subgroup of Bravo and Charlie were targeted to hit the rear of the Vemus Alpha. Connor’s gaze was fixed on the main holoscreen. Those missiles had to reach their target. Since there were no visible engines on the massive ship, they had to be in the rear, hidden away in the cavernous mass. He planned to blindside the behemoth and then continue to hit the ship, chopping away at it and hopefully crippling it in the process.
“Confirm all HADES active,” Captain Thorne said.
The breath caught in Connor’s chest. The command-and-control units would provide updates for as long as they were active. They didn’t have thousands of missiles, so every one of them counted.
The command-and-control units beamed back their updates, but it still took the data over three minutes to make it to Phoenix Station, where the computing core immediately put it into their cyber-warfare suite. The whole process from the time the command-and-control units sent an update to when it appeared on the main holoscreen in Phoenix Station’s command area was three-point-two minutes. That didn’t sound like a lot of time, but it could make all the difference in a war such as this. There was nothing else for them to do. They were committed to this engagement, just as the Vemus Alpha was.
“Missile groups going offline,” Captain Thorne said, his voice rising.
“Can you confirm detonation?” Connor asked.
“I’m trying to . . . negative, General. They must be taking out our missiles,” Captain Thorne said.
Connor watched the long list of HADES IV-B missile statuses. Some were getting through the countermeasures the Vemus were using, but not nearly as many as they’d hoped. As more and more missiles went offline without delivering their payload, Connor’s gut
clenched.
“Sir, command-and-control units are now offline. Switching to PRADIS,” Captain Thorne said.
Connor clenched his teeth. Without the command-and-control units, they couldn’t know what sort of damage they’d done. He looked away from the main holoscreen, but the officers in the command area still watched with grave expressions.
“PRADIS is online,” Captain Thorne said. “Sir, we have three hundred marks on the plot—make that four hundred. Speed and mass readings indicate NA Alliance Condor class heavy missiles.”
“Set Condition One,” Connor said. “Ready station defenses. We have incoming missiles.”
“Action Stations. Action Stations. Set Condition One.” Lieutenant Daniel’s voice was broadcast throughout Phoenix Station.
“Time to impact—one hour at their current speed, sir,” Captain Thorne said.
“Thank you, Captain. Any change in their speed, I want to know about it immediately,” Connor said.
“Yes, General,” Captain Thorne answered.
“Major Elder, you have the con. Colonel Cross and Major Quinn, follow me,” Connor said.
“Yes, General,” Major Elder said, giving them a curious glance as they left.
Connor led them to the nearest breakout room and told Sean to wait outside. Colonel Cross went inside, and Connor closed the door.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Colonel?” Connor asked.
“Sir, I was going to tell you—” Colonel Cross began.
“You were required to tell me the moment you found out. How far along are you?” Connor asked.
“Not that far—”
“How far along!” Connor shouted.
“Eight weeks. Just over eight weeks, sir,” Colonel Cross said finally.
Connor’s eyes widened. “Eight weeks,” he muttered in disbelief. “You must have known you were pregnant for over a month and didn’t report it.”
Colonel Cross looked away.
“We have protocols to follow. You were required to report this to me as your commanding officer within seventy-two hours of finding out,” Connor said, his voice lowering in volume but no less stern.
