From the Galaxy Collision Series

Starstrikers

Ken McConnell

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events depicted in this novel are products of the author’s imagination.

Starstrikers

ISBN is 1438206372

EAN-13 is 9781438206370

Printed by CreateSpace® An Amazon.com® company

First Edition: September 2008

Printed in the United States of America

Cover art and layout by Byron McConnell

The official Starstrikers web site: http://starstrikers.ning.com

The author’s blog: http//myview.w0pht.org

For Jason and Ed, fellow dreamers.

Prologue

In the first millennium of galactic exploration, three worlds thrived together in near perfect union. Selene, a blue and white orb rich in natural resources and mature in technology; Ursai, an exotic world with vast mineral deposits and a hardworking, industrial society, and Drexel, a large, oceanic world with a rich, natural biosphere and a hearty population of sea going people. All three worlds enjoyed free trade agreements and governed themselves separately but equally in a tripartite agreement known as the Federation. The Federation ensured open markets and maintained the trade routes by upholding the law.

Wealthy conglomerates of high technology and industry funded research missions to far away star systems in hopes of gaining new resources to fuel the expanding economies of the three home worlds. New planets were discovered and populated by rugged pioneers with the courage and determination to grow their own wealth. During this period, many new races of sentient beings were encountered and traded with by the citizens of the Federation. Though not all races were friendly and minor conflicts erupted and were quickly settled by shrewd negotiations and the technological superiority of the Federation’s limited but effective military starforce.

For a hundred standard years, the Federation prospered and grew. Space travel remained an expensive and difficult proposition that only the rich multi-planet industrial giants could afford. The limited armies of the day were maintained and financed by these giant conglomerates, while remaining under the direct control of the Federation’s three planetary governments. There were those who were becoming alarmed by the dangers that lay out on the galactic frontiers and they began to campaign for a stronger military and a more united government that would protect the many far off worlds of the Federation as equally as they would the three “inner worlds” of Selene, Ursai and Drexel.

It was not an easy task to warn a bloated and content Federation that it was spreading itself too thin and inviting destruction from a possibly aggressive, exterior force. Alas, the leaders of the three worlds turned deaf ears to the dire warnings issued by a select group of politicians and military leaders who called themselves the Alliance. The Alliance party began meeting in public places and formulating a plan for a new government, one that represented all the far-flung outposts of the Federation equally. This new government would be funded by the taxation of its citizens and industry and protected by a single, unified military fleet.

The Alliance party was never taken seriously in elections or by the media until reports of terrible massacres began to filter in from the far reaches of the frontier. A new and terrible race had been encountered that was militarily superior to the Federation and appeared destined to conquer the inner worlds with their aggressive stellar armada. Over time, the ideas brought forth by the Alliance began to make sense as more and more planets fell to the warships of the Votainion Dynasty. Three members of the original Alliance party were elected to lead the newly formed government, known as the Western Alliance, into a war with a newly formed military division known as the Starforgers, whose mission was to stop the invading Votainion Dynasty.

So began the Great Galactic War. In its fourth century, the tides of war were finally shifting in favor of the powerful and expansive Western Alliance. A relatively new organization within the United Stellar Fleet, known as Starstrikers, began to play a pivotal role in breaking down the latest technological barrier between the warring parties. Their efforts would help to bring about an eventual end to the Great Galactic War. Peace, in turn, would usher in a renaissance of exploration that would free a galaxy and open up a deeper understanding between the two former enemies.

Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press.

“The Starstrikers were composed of small, four person teams that could get in, make changes where needed, and get out, often before enemy forces knew they were there. These teams were closer than siblings and often made the supreme sacrifice for each other. Did they deserve to be called legends? I believe they did.”

― Rear Admiral Som Toshi, Second Wing of the Western Alliance Fleet Taken from his speech to the graduating class at the Greyson Military Academy

Chapter 1

Centar could see the swarming Viper troops through the fog in the distance. There were thousands of them massing on the remains of the queen’s fallen fortress. The battle was over and there was nothing left to do but leave. He charged his rifle and patted Sloan on the back.

“Fall back and prepare for extraction.”

Sloan didn’t move. He watched the enemy troops advance with a faraway look in his dark eyes. Centar knew what his friend was thinking and he didn’t like it. Sloan was never one to think of himself, even when the situation seemed hopeless.

“We’ll never get out of the area without some help. Someone has to draw their fire to buy us some time.”

“That’s suicide,” Centar said.

Sloan turned his head and looked into Centar’s eyes. Centar didn’t like that calm look of resolution in his friend’s gaze.

“I’ll buy Kiloe some time to land, wait for me,” he said, motioning to an abandoned canon station near the crumbling fortress.

They both knew in that moment that he might not make it back to the ship, and that the enemy’s advance could easily overwhelm Sloan. Neither man was willing to say anything aloud, as if talking about the odds would change anything. Another explosion near them sent debris and dust flying over their heads.

As Sloan turned away and watched the advancing enemy forces, Centar took aim at the closest formation of orange and black clad Viper troops. Sloan looked back at him one last time and then dived over the stone rim. Centar opened fire, covering Sloan’s dash to the abandoned canon.

Winding his way over dead defenders and crater holes, Sloan dived head first into the canon pit. He gave Centar a brief wave and then manned the twin-tube canon. When he opened up on the enemy, they fell back under the unrelenting firepower. Body armor and bone burst apart in a bloody explosion. Centar watched for a few seconds and then headed to the fall back position.

The whining sound of the Shrike’s engines grew louder as it approached from behind them. The strike ship weaved back and forth in an attempt to dodge ground fire as it came in low across the battlefield.

Dekka was holed up in a stone archway with the trembling Matriarch behind him. She was only thirteen years old and already her people were on the verge of genocide. Her royal garment was dirty and torn and her body was covered with the dirt of battle. She huddled in the darkness peering out occasionally.

“The strike ship will be here any minute. Stay behind me your highness,” Dekka said.

Dekka’s black face was dusted with limestone from the crumbling fortress. He charged his rifle as he sensed the approach of the strike ship. The queen tried to burrow herself into the stone enclave, too shocked and stunned to comprehend what was happening to her and her people. The Votainions had invaded just like the Starstrikers had warned and now her kingdom was falling apart leaving her people to be forced into slavery or eradicated.

Centar ran to Dekka’s position and stuck his back into the archway to protect the queen.

“Not looking good, my friend,” Dekka said.

“Kiloe’s inbound, you and I will get her aboard and Sloan will cover us.”

Dekka’s brown eyes studied his friend’s solemn face. He heard the maser cannon firing in the distance and knew that Sloan was operating it. He also knew that it was a long way from their position to the cannon.

“Damn.”

Centar shot Dekka a hard look, “It’s the only way we can get out here. More troops and heavy cannons are coming on-line over the ridge. He’s going to try and buy us the time to get her out.”

“This was his idea wasn’t it?”

Centar nodded.

“He’ll make it,” Dekka said as much to himself as to Centar. “He’ll make it.”

The sound of the Shrike’s engines overpowered the din of battle as it moved into position above them. Dekka ran aboard as the stern ramp lowered to the ground.

Centar rushed the queen aboard as the Shrike started to ascend. Her six delicate legs propelled her body forward faster than the humans providing cover for her. The ramp stayed open as Dekka secured the queen inside the Shrike. Centar stayed at the entryway, watching Sloan draw fire from the nearest Viper squad. He grabbed a tie down strap and wrapped it around his arm.

“Kiloe, back down over the ridge,” Centar said into the mic at his throat.

“Everybody hold on to something,” was Kiloe’s reply.

The strike ship reversed thrust and edged its stern ramp through the stone barricade, sending rock fragments flying down the hill. Sloan heard the crash behind him and set the gun to fire automatically. It continued to strafe the enemy troops, keeping their helmeted heads down. He picked up two rifles and started to make his run for the Shrike’s ramp and safety.

Enemy fire raked the Shrike, knocking Centar back against the inside of the ship. He raised his rifle and fired back out the ramp. The ship bounced hard, tossing him around on the ramp like a rag doll. Sloan was firing randomly behind him as he ran to catch up with the stern of the Shrike.

Dekka came back to the ramp and stood against the side of the ship for cover. He started firing his rifle at the advancing enemy troops behind Sloan. There were so many Votainion troops coming after the lone Starstriker, it looked like a swarm that was about to overtake him.

Centar could see Sloan’s face and eyes clearly as he approached, running as fast he could. Sloan tossed away his rifles and focused on getting to the ramp. He was nearly out of breath when he took Centar’s outstretched hand. Centar hauled him onto the ramp, yelling for Kiloe to pull up. Dekka slammed his hand onto the ramp close release causing the metal platform to rise just as the back of the ship was rattled by more enemy fire.

Sloan’s body jerked back as he caught several shots. Centar grabbed him around the waist as they were thrown to the deck. Kiloe turned the Shrike around to blast the enemy as he retreated. The sudden jolt caused Centar and Sloan to slide to the back bulkhead in a heap.

Centar knew his friend was hit, but he didn’t realize how bad until Sloan grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard. “I’m hit,” Sloan grimaced.

“You made it, we’ll be in orbit soon. Hang on buddy,” Centar said.

Sloan’s eyes were glassy; he let out a final breath and went limp in Centar’s arms. Centar looked up at Dekka who closed his eyes out of respect. Centar felt like he was in a dream. He had lost people under his command before, but he never had anyone die in his arms. It was unreal, like being in some terrible nightmare. He backed away from Sloan’s inert form and sat beside him, still holding his hand.

Dekka reached down and put a hand on Centar’s shoulder.

“We’re almost to orbit. It’s not over yet.”

Centar nodded, still in a daze as he stared at Sloan. Dekka went forward to the bridge to inform Kiloe of their loss.

Centar put Sloan’s hand down gently. He reached into a pocket on Sloan’s chest and pulled out his strike team coin. Every Starstriker carried one with them and they were passed down from team member to team member. Sloan’s coin was tarnished and dinged up from years of wear and tear. Centar pressed the coin into his hand and fought back tears. Slowly he stood up. He had a mission to finish and his grief would have to wait. They still had to fight their way past the warships and get out of enemy territory.

Dekka took the co-pilot’s seat and looked solemnly at Kiloe.

“Did he make it aboard?” Kiloe asked.

Dekka nodded. Kiloe looked back at him, and knew that something was wrong.

“He’s dead. Centar got him aboard but he died in his arms.”

Kiloe looked away, growing anger filled him. He tightened his grip on the controls and started arming the forward weapons. Dekka watched him for a moment, not sure how he would take the news. Sloan had been his partner and his friend. Kiloe was the junior member of the strike team and had been Sloan’s apprentice.

“We’ll be in range of the assault ships soon, I say we take some out for Sloan.”

Dekka turned to face the controls, looking back at Kiloe again to make sure he was all right. Kiloe went into attack mode. His hands moved over the flight controls in smooth, practiced motions. His face was flush with rage, jaw set and eyes narrowed. Dekka said a silent prayer, not for Sloan, but for the Votainions that Kiloe was about to exact revenge on.

The Shrike slipped out of the upper atmosphere of the planet Tur and lined up with a six-ship Votainion armada in orbit. The sleek, reddish warships of the armada spread out in an effort to outflank the tiny Starstriker ship. Kiloe knew the strengths and weaknesses of every enemy warship and with that in mind, and with an uncontrollable rage, he plotted a course through the line that would cause the most damage to the warships. This wasn’t just about extraction anymore, Kiloe wanted vindication.

Dekka called out firing solutions and quickly drew up escape plans in case a frontal assault left them crippled. He trusted Kiloe to get them through in one piece; he was just covering every possibility. Dekka was like that, always thinking several steps ahead to avoid getting the team into a tight spot.

Centar came onto the bridge and stood between Kiloe and Dekka. His face was drained of color and there were visible bags under his crystal blue eyes.

“Kiloe, just get us into tunnel space. We can’t risk getting the Turian Monarch captured.”

Kiloe lowered his shoulders and released his grip on the flight controls, he was all prepared to do battle and now he had to stand down. It was not easy; he was keyed up with boiling emotions. His teacher was lying dead in the back and he was not able to take out his anger on the enemy that had taken so much from him. Centar collapsed in the jump seat behind Kiloe and strapped in. It would be a long, silent trip back home. They were completing their mission, but at a high cost. One of them had paid the ultimate price.

“War is never easy on the psyche of combatants. Those who win, learn to deal with it. Those who lose, sink in the mire.”

― Captain Mace Caiden, Second Wing, Western Alliance Fleet

From his Autobiography: My Life at War.

Chapter 2

Centar Havic sat with his head in his hands as Admiral Lusen puffed away on a cigar behind his expansive desk. The mission debriefing was long over. Both men were waiting for the results of the military inquiry into Sloan’s death. Lusen was looking out the picture windows at the dark skies over Port Domio. It was just after midnight and the lights in his office were down low, so he could see out the windows.

“You did what needed to be done, I think the board understood that,” Lusen said.

Centar didn’t move his hands. He kept his tired eyes on the floor of Lusen’s office.

“I’m not worried about the outcome, sir. I guess I’m more concerned about how the team is taking it.”

Lusen blew a smoke ring that drifted up to the ceiling before the circulation fans dispersed it. He absently pulled on the high collar of his dress whites.

“You’ve lost people under your command before. We all have. You grieve and you move on. “

“We are still grieving then, sir,” Centar said.

Lusen spun his padded chair around to face his sullen strike team leader. Centar was still holding his head, even though he knew the admiral was looking at him.

“Get out of here for a few days. Take Millie with you. Tell Dekka to do the same.”

“It’s not Dek or me that I’m concerned about, it’s Kiloe, he’s taking this pretty hard. Drinking, hanging out in seedy dives and gambling like he has nothing to lose.”

Lusen leaned over his desk and took the cigar from his mouth.

“You get that kid some help. He’s one of my best pilots. If I have to intervene I’m taking his flying status away and he won’t even step foot near a hanger. Understand?”

Lusen’s gruff voice had gotten louder for emphasis. Centar finally looked up and nodded, “Yes sir.”

A chime sounded on the Admiral’s desk and he punched a button, “Yes?”

The young and tired woman on the other end of the connection sounded relieved.

“Admiral the results are in, Commander Havic has been cleared of any and all wrong doing,” she said.

Lusen nodded confidently, “Thanks Jenna, you can go home now.”

“Aye Admiral, goodnight.”

Lusen stood up, prompting Havic to do the same. He came around from behind his desk and put a hand on Havic’s back. “Son, get Kiloe help and all three of you take some time off. I want you all back here ready to move on. There are some things brewing out there and I want my best team ready in case they are needed.”

When they reached the door, Lusen withdrew his arm with a pat and shook Centar’s hand. Centar wanted to say something to the man who had taken him under his wing on more than one occasion, but decided not to. He left the darkened office and headed home to his wife.

The Falling Star was a local bar that was unofficially adopted by the Starstrikers who lived and worked in Port Domio on the planet Selene. Over the years, the owner resigned to the steady customers in slate gray jumpsuits and gave in to their desires in terms of decorations, drinks served and remaining open at all hours of the day and night. Now the bar was as much a part of Starstriker lore as the Starstrikers Command building just a block away.

Dekka and Centar were sitting at the Alpha team booth. They had been sitting at the same booth since each had been assigned to the unit. There was a carved wooden Alpha team emblem on the wall between the benches. For the past several years the team had included Sloan and Kiloe. Before Kiloe had joined them there were only three. It was not unusual for a strike team to have only three members, but four was considered optimal. Dekka, Sloan and Centar had been a team for over six years before Kiloe came aboard. They had been on more missions than either one could remember. A few times they had come close to losing one or more members in combat, but this was the first time they came home with a body instead of a beer-drinking brethren.

The booth seemed empty to Centar. He stared at the spot beside Dekka that was usually occupied by Sloan. Dekka picked up on it, “He’s not coming, my friend.”

Centar looked up and frowned.

“I still can’t believe he didn’t make it.”

Dekka took a drink and looked into Centar’s blue-gray eyes. “We need to get past this. We can’t mope about in here forever. Sloan would have wanted us to go on without him.”

They had been coming to the bar together every night since they got back, rehashing the details of that fateful mission, trying to second-guess their actions. Centar returned the eye contact if only for a moment.

“I know. It just doesn’t seem right without him. I miss him. I miss him more than thought I would.”

Dekka slowly nodded. His broad shoulders were lowered.

“So do I. But I knew him well enough to know that he would have wanted us to move on.”

Centar agreed with his old friend. “Lusen wants us to get past this quickly and haul in Kiloe. He says he will ground Killer if he doesn’t start flying right.”

Dekka swore, “We’ve only been back a week, these things take time, especially for someone like Kiloe. The kid has never lost a team member before, much less a mentor.”

Centar eyed his friend as he took another drink. He set the empty glass down on the table and sat back in the booth. “We need to select a new team member. Get Kiloe into the role of the mentor, make him stop thinking about his own loss and start thinking about training someone else.”

“That’s good advice,” Dekka said.

Centar looked away at the nearly empty bar. There were a few patrons scattered about, but most of the clientele were off on missions to the far corners of the Alliance. “I’ll make my decision soon, in the mean time, we need to reel him in. Get him sobered up and back in the fold.”

Dekka looked at his commander and friend with great compassion. The freckles under his eyes gave his light ebony skin character that mere age lines could not. “He’s been hanging out in the lower quarters, playing sheck. We can order him confined to base, but then we have to dry him out and get him back on a training regiment.”

“We all need to get back into some kind of training routine. Maybe you can get him into the sims with some of the replacement candidates. Let him help you narrow them down to just a few. He needs to start taking a leadership role in this unit.”

Dekka took another drink and swished the brew around his mouth before swallowing. “Remember when we brought Sloan onto the team?”

Centar managed a grin, which was soon followed by a laugh from both men. Dekka had been Sloan’s mentor and trainer. Sloan was younger than Centar and had a chip on his shoulder the size of a small moon. There was nothing that he couldn’t do better than any other Starstriker. It took Dekka a while to find Sloan’s weak spot, but when he did, the cocksure young man was taken down and forced to admit he was not the greatest living Starstriker.

When Sloan had come to terms with the fact that they were a team and relied on each other more than on any one member, the team started to become more than the sum total of its members. The team went on to be the best Starstriker unit in the Starforce. At this the lowest point in the current team’s history, the members were on the verge of spiraling downward and losing their standing as the Alpha team. It had happened to strike teams in the past and they weren’t about to follow that path.

An empty beer mug came up from under the table and slammed down. Kiloe pulled himself up beside Centar and rubbed his bleary, blood shot eyes.

“It’s time to go,” he said to Centar, his breath reeking of beer.

Centar agreed with the drunken young man and together with Dekka they guided him out of the bar and down the street to where he lived in a modest, single room apartment. Kiloe went straight for the bathroom and emptied the remaining contents of his stomach.

“I’ll stay with him, you go back home,” Dekka said.

“Just make sure he’s sober for the funeral tomorrow.”

“I will.”

Centar took a look around the darkened apartment and noticed how messy it was. Clothes, food containers and liqueur bottles littered the floor. He motioned to the mess and Dekka nodded knowingly. Sometimes getting your life back on track involved cleaning up your messes and regaining your self-respect. The two senior officers knew that and would force Kiloe to conform. They would have him flying right before the next mission, of that Centar was sure.

“Every person in my command deserves the best funeral money can buy. How would I like to be buried? Pack me up and shoot me into a star.”

― Admiral Jake Lusen, Starstriker Commander.

Taken from an interview in Warfighter Journal.

Chapter 3

Starstriker funerals were known for being ostentatious spectacles. When your people were held to impeccably high standards, and often did the dirty work that nobody else would do, it only seemed proper that they should be honored in as grand a fashion as possible. Centar knew that was how Admiral Lusen felt, and he was in charge of Starstriker Command.

Presiding over the funeral for a fallen team member was just about the least favorite activity of the grizzled old man. But Centar knew that he always went out of his way to make sure the event was memorable and honorable. Everyone in attendance wore his or her dress uniforms. Civilians lucky enough to attend the event usually wore standard black attire.

The only family members in attendance for Sloan were his cousins and his ex-wife. Leena had divorced him shortly after he became a member of the Alpha strike team, and later she remarried a civilian with a considerably less dangerous career. She was standing next to Millie Havic and Dekka's daughter, Rhea from the GCU Selestar.

Millie's face looked dour as she listened to the admiral's remembrance speech. Centar locked eyes with her from his formation. She hated funerals more than anyone because they reminded her that she could be the next widow at any time. Her blue eyes were dark and detached, framed by the sun-bleached hair under her black scarf.

Centar wondered how she would hold up during his funeral. He knew she would be stoic for the ceremony but that she would probably break down in tears once she was alone. He could not even imagine life without his wife. She was his rock, and he relied on her for emotional support.

Lusen finished his speech and presented the flag that had draped Sloan's silver metal coffin to Leena. She accepted it and bowed her head to his rigid salute.

A squadron of strike ships came in low, in the traditional “missing man” formation and passed over the procession party on the landing pad atop the Starstriker Command building. Centar watched the middle ship fall back and break out of the formation just before it passed overhead.

Kiloe and Dekka were also watching the formation, the two of them looked to Centar after the fly over. He managed a weak grin, Sloan would have liked that part but his favorite formation was coming next. As Admiral Lusen returned to the podium and stood at attention, the wind changed slightly and picked up. Banners and flags fluttered and flapped in the stiff offshore breeze.

A growing rumble approached the city as a second formation consisting of starfighters and support craft turned on final. It was every Starforce ship stationed at Port Domio pressed into service for one giant fly-over formation. As the wave of smaller ships passed overhead, everyone looked up and watched. The sunlight flickered in the sky as the ships partially blocked it, their shadows passed over the formations of people on the landing pad.

Centar looked back to Millie and winked at her. Her expression softened for a bit as she smirked back at him. She knew what was coming next, as did nearly everyone.

The military band started playing the Starstrikers anthem from behind the podium. As they played, a second, much larger sound came from the sky, crackling and rumbling through the valley like thunder. Heads turned as the near deafening sound drowned out the band. A huge, sleek starship approached the city from out over the sea. It was the GCU Thrusher, the Starstriker Command ship. The Thrusher had a swept back leading edge and was less bulky than most starships. It was designed to go atmospheric on occasion and handled quite nicely under such conditions.

When the starship passed over the crowd the noise was deafening. The ship blocked the sun and for a brief moment, lowering the temperature on the landing platform.

Centar looked up and had to remember to close his open mouth. The Thrusher held a crew of nearly three thousand people. To see it cruise over the platform barely a few hundred feet above the city was an incredible site. How the admiral got permission to do such things was far beyond Centar's ability to understand. The noise alone was enough to cause people to cover their ears as they stared upward in amazement. The smell of fuel being burned in the massive star drive tubes lingered over the platform and replaced the salty sea breeze.

As the huge mass of metal and composite materials gained altitude to pull away, Centar could see rows of crewmen dressed in their Class A uniforms lined up along the starfighter launch bays. It was almost as fun being on the Thrusher for such flyby's as it was being on the ground. He watched the starship angle upward and recede into the clear blue skies.

The ceremony was over shortly thereafter and the formations were dismissed. The surviving members of strike team Alpha formed a circle and talked amongst themselves.

“Sloan would have loved that,” Kiloe said.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“I'm going to really miss him. Who's going to get Kiloe out of trouble now?” Dekka asked.

“You're his daddy now, my friend,” Centar said with a grin.

Kiloe waved them both off, “Awe come on, we need to get another newbie on this team, so I don't have to hear any more of that.”

Kiloe was a big target for needling from Centar and Dekka, both of whom were twice Kiloe's age. Centar looked over at the loose formation of new recruits that were undergoing strike team training. There were five of them, all with fresh faces and just as young and naïve as Kiloe was when he had come aboard. Centar locked eyes with a brunette woman in the group who was checking them out. Her name was Tamia, and she was one of the better candidates for Sloan's replacement.

“There's your batch of replacements,” Centar said, nodding in the direction of the group.

Kiloe looked them over and shook his head, “Not much to choose from.”

Dekka let out a short laugh. Others turned around to look at him, not expecting jocularity at a funeral. Dekka looked back at them and innocently shrugged.

“We'll have to select someone soon, the admiral's expecting us to get back in the game,” he said.

“I'm ready to go, all this sitting around is starting to get me down,” Kiloe said.

Dekka and Centar exchanged knowing looks. You could walk around with your head hanging low for only so long, before you went crazy, something they knew all too well. They needed to get back in the war if not for any other reason than to get their minds off of Sloan. Centar knew it would not be easy once they did get another mission. They would be breaking in a new member and learning to work as a team all over again. But he also knew it would be the best prescription for their slump.

He grasped the metal coin in his pocket and felt the four diamonds cut outs with his finger. Sloan's unit coin had been in Centar's pocket since the day Sloan died. It was a constant reminder to him that his friend was not around. He needed to get ride of it, so he could stop being reminded of Sloan's absence. The past can only be held onto for so long before it drags you into the depths.

“We were lucky. Not once, but twice. You can’t ask for anything more than that, really. Can you?”

― Captain Dwayne Rouy, GCU Griffin, Second Wing, Western Alliance Fleet From an interview on Meet the Military.

Chapter 4

The surveillance starship, GCU Griffin, was continuing its forward sweep of the adjoining sector at the time of their fleet’s demise. They were still well within the Alliance side of the Neutral Zone, an area that separated the warring sides, and heading away from the fleet at moderate scanning speed. The crew was busy scrutinizing every aspect of The Void, looking for tunnel drive sign, jamming enemy propaganda, and generally snooping into the area across the region for enemy activity.

The Griffin was a small, class “C” starship hull, with a total crew of one hundred “snoopers” - fleet lingo for intelligence troops on surveillance ships. Ninety percent of the ship’s power was diverted to its energy craving scanner equipment that left only ten-percent power for life support and defenses. It was argued by the starship’s designers and later redeemed in actual practice that if enemy ships were able to get close the Griffin would simply leave the area, quickly. In most cases the “sight and flight” method worked as advertised, but with bear minimal shielding and at best, light armament, snooper crews never lingered far from the protective nest of a heavy cruiser fleet which until now was considered the safest possible escort.

Commander Comter was staring past the clear sectional display in front of him, lost in thought. In his mind, he was still on board the Masung, enjoying the company of a certain line officer that he had only just met. Her name was Trella and she had the most alluring eyes he had ever seen. He spent most of his time staring into them and swimming in their sensuous beauty. Even now, he could see them staring back at him from within his memory. One of the eyes winked and then closed. The motion brought him out of his daydream and focused his attention on the multiple glowing circles on the display grid. One of the circles had just disappeared. Comter rubbed his eyes and looked again, this time reading the message as it flashed across the display. His heart sank as he quickly realized what had just happened.

The battle stations alarm startled him when it sounded, jarring him into action. The bridge lights dimmed red, signifying battle stations, as he turned to face the Conn. “Mr. Dakar, take us about. Set a new course for - none, four zero, mark five. Flank speed.”

The wide-eyed Ensign paused for a split second, as if he were not sure what he had just heard. Comter shot him a stern look, and he immediately began to enter the new coordinates, repeating the command.

“Tactical; full shields, charge all weapon systems. Give me a full, cross-spectrum scan on the forward arrays. Let’s stay sharp people, this is not a drill.”

The gravity assist strained to keep everyone right side up, as the bulk of the starship swung around in a tight turn. Comter held onto the railing before him, refusing to take the captain’s seat. Not everyone on the bridge understood why he or she were suddenly on full alert and violently changing direction, but that didn’t stop them from reacting as they were trained.

As they came about, the ship leveled out and gained momentum. The deck began to vibrate as the main star drive kicked in and strained the automatic dampening systems. The Griffin was an older starship but she could clock into overdrive faster than some of the best new ships. After the initial shake out, she steadied on course and the base throb of the star drive abated.

“Commander, what the hell’s going on?” Captain Rouy asked as he came through the airtight door onto the bridge. He was still fastening the white overcoat of his uniform as he stood beside Comter.

“Our escort force has been engaged. Preliminary reports indicate total destruction.”

“Of the Masung?” Rouy asked.

“No sir, the entire task force.”

Rouy backed away as the realization awakened on his face. He felt light headed all of a sudden and stepped down to the command chair level. Comter followed him down and spoke in a whisper so that only the captain could hear him. “Are you all right sir?” Rouy waved him off and took his chair. The entire story was now forming on the foreword display screens. Incoming data from the long distance scans were showing nothing but lifeless hulls where once there had been starships.

A scanning officer approached them. Rouy looked up at her hopefully for any news of survivors. “Sir, I was monitoring their sector when it happened. My equipment registered no distortions that would indicate tunnel drives.” Rouy and Comter both exchanged odd looks.

“There’s no place to hide in that sector. You don’t think it was an ambush?” his question was rhetorical. Rouy shook his head, “Alert Combined Fleet Headquarters. We can’t stay out here alone. Especially after this,” he said, motioning toward the disaster on the monitors.

Comter nodded to the scanning officer and she returned to her post. He moved to the communications post and conveyed the Captain’s wishes. The thought occurred to him as he watched the message go out, that he would never again look into Trella’s sultry eyes.

The Griffin decelerated into the outer reaches of the star system its fleet once occupied. The hammer headed starship’s shields deflected tiny bits of metal that still radiated away from the battle scene. Rescue shuttles were launched immediately and spread out to encompass the entire sector. Their anxious crews had very little to salvage. After several hours, their declining morale received a boost when two crewmembers were found alive.

Later, on the bridge, Rouy received a briefing from his senior officers. The ship’s Chief Medical Officer, Commander Hoyt, spoke quietly and with great compassion. He was the same age as the Captain and was relied upon heavily as a sounding board for Rouy. “There were two survivors an Engineer’s Mate from the Kusaka, and a Spacer First Class from the Lacerta. Both were wearing pressure tracts at the time of the attack.”

“Did either of them witness what happened?” Rouy asked.

“The Engineer’s Mate was deep inside the ship’s bilge. The explosion of the main gun battery knocked him out. He doesn’t even know where he is yet. The Spacer was outside during the attack. She had enough foresight to put some distance between herself and the Lacerta before it blew,” Hoyt paused when he saw the Captain’s eager eyes.

“What did she see?”

“She’s still suffering from extreme frostbite and oxygen deprivation,” Hoyt had to qualify, before he continued. “She says the stars, attacked them from all directions. And then a large black ship appeared with patrol craft that finished off the surviving escape pods.”

Everyone seemed to take the account in stride; none dismissed it entirely.

“Votainion patrols?” asked Rouy.

“She couldn’t be sure; they had no markings and were of an unknown design.”

“Could it be a previously unknown culture?” said the senior scanning officer, Lieutenant Tenka.

“No, unless they’ve wandered far from their home star, there’s no life on any of the planets in this or any fringe systems,” Comter said. “This smells to me like a prelude to an enemy advance.”

“Our scans found no trace of ion or nuclear propulsion trails,” Tenka countered.

Rouy leaned forward in his command chair and focused on Tenka, “We have border buoys all along this sector, what did they see?”

Tenka reluctantly disclosed what he had found to be unsubstantiated data. “Local time dilation was observed in a buoy at the far side of this system. They were not present when we came through this sector before. I didn’t put much faith in the readings though, we haven’t had time to do a full diagnostic on the buoy’s sensors.”

Rouy zeroed in on the possibilities the data implied, “Nothing should be considered inconsequential. Leave no option unchecked. Bring all scanners to bear on these...time distortions. We’re not leaving this system until we get some answers.”

The implications of the Captain’s order were not lost on the crew of the Griffin. Tension mounted over the next few hours, as they desperately searched for clues, pausing only for funeral services for those who had lost their lives in Fleet 221. Nearly everyone on the Griffin had known someone who had served in his or her parent organization but that was not the overriding concern that weighed upon their minds as they worked. If what they were looking for had so easily and quickly destroyed a heavy cruiser fleet, what chance would they have if they actually found it, or if it found them?

Later that shift, Rouy was sitting in his command chair on the bridge, watching the technical data stream by on the forward screens. His attention kept drifting away from the numbers to thoughts of his lifelong friend, Bret Bowman. They had just been celebrating Bowman’s upcoming retirement the night before, on the Masung. Two old warriors, waxing fondly about their lifelong service to the fleet as they slowly drank themselves into oblivion. They even discussed going into business with each other when Rouy’s retirement came along in two short months. Try as he might though, Rouy could not remember what business they had planned to go into. The Ramerian whiskey they were drinking had left much of the night a mystery to both men the following duty day. Ordinarily, it would not have mattered what they were going to do in retirement, but now, it meant everything to Rouy. He had to remember to honor Bowman’s memory.

“Captain, look at this!”

It was Comter. Rouy sat up in his chair and followed Comter’s gaze to the main viewer. Only three Emergency Locater Beacons were found amongst the rubble that used to be six starships. They were set to lie dormant for several hours after being launched, on the belief that the enemy would otherwise easily find and destroy them. The one now being replayed was from the Masung, Bowman’s ship.

The bridge crew of the heavy cruiser seemed unaware of any impending doom. The surveillance camera was mounted above the ship’s main viewer and gave a slightly warped, wide-angle view of the entire bridge. Rouy’s attention was drawn to the Captain’s chair that was uncharacteristically empty.

“Where’s Bret?” Rouy asked rhetorically.

“This was taken two hours into shift two, perhaps he was called away or was checking into something,” Comter said, knowing full well where Captain Bowman was, but choosing not to tell his captain at this point.

The First Officer was chatting idly with one of the Weapons Officers, the Comm. Station was vacant and so was the Alert Station. In fact, the bridge was only half manned.

“Where the hell was everyone?” Rouy asked annoyed at what he saw.

“This is where they were first hit. Telemetry data reports a massive hull breech on the gun deck, port side,” Comter said, interpreting the data scrolling on both sides of the picture.

The Masung bridge crew was suddenly toppled off their feet by a violent, rocking motion. The lights went off for a brief moment and then the emergency power kicked in blanketing the bridge in battle station red. Several stations randomly erupted in a brilliant spray of sparks. The First Officer scrambled to his feet, barking orders as the ship rocked with successive aftershocks. Crewmen began flooding onto the bridge, engaging fire suppression devices, and filling empty seats. The First Officer suddenly stopped yelling above the cacophony and stared blankly up at the surveillance camera. A sharp chill went down the spin of everyone watching the tape on the Griffin. They all knew what the Masung First Officer had realized in that fleeting moment - his life was over. The deck split open under the center of the bridge, sending everyone forward as the insides of the ship blew outward.

The transmission went blank for a split second and then opened to space. Other ships could be seen, disintegrating in the background until only stars and debris remained visible. There was silence on the bridge of the Griffin.

Rouy lowered his eyes out of respect for the dead. A long moment of silence followed as everyone did the same. One crewman started to sob uncontrollably as she left her post. Evidently she had known someone on the tape and seeing her die was too much to bear. A standby crewman filled her post.

Rouy turned to Comter and asked again, “Where was Bowman? I know the core computer knew where he was.”

Comter lowered his voice as he spoke, “Captain Bowman was indisposed, sir.”

“What?”

“He was on the head, sir.”

Rouy stared blankly at Comter for a brief moment, and then began to laugh slowly at first, and then with greater gusto as Comter nervously joined in. Captain Bowman was always on the head at inopportune times. The other bridge crew looked at each other curiously as they wondered how anyone could laugh after what they had just watched.

The Comm. Officer, Lieutenant Jianji interrupted them, “Captain, you have a priority call from an Admiral Lusen. It’s on a secure beam.” Rouy stepped off his command chair and headed for his stateroom, “I’ll take it in here, please.” He was still shaking his head trying to stop thinking of his friend’s untimely if not ungraceful end on the Masung.

The stateroom was a standard feature of every Alliance warship. It was intended to be a place for the host Captain to entertain important dignitaries and to conduct regular strategy meetings with his senior officers. It was also one of the few secure beam access nodes on the ship. Most staterooms were adjacent to the bridge and had elaborate view ports overlooking the length of the starship. But the Griffin could not afford the space for such luxuries. Its stateroom was a small and unglamorous closet used for everything from Captain’s Masts to the senior officer’s dining. There wasn’t even so much as a porthole to view outside. Rouy was sure that no Admiral or foreign dignitary had ever set foot inside it. You had to have a very high security clearance just to get on board this kind of starship, much less onto its bridge. Most Admirals never left their command ships to slum with the Class “C” Captains on their tiny roosts; which was a good thing, because this stateroom was in terrible shape. The gray paint on the walls was peeling and the maintenance crews had left panels off areas in need of constant repair. The Griffin was a very old hull that happened to have lived longer than its designers had anticipated. But war can have a way of extending the lives of equipment that was well proven and still worked.

Rouy took his seat at the head of the worn metal table and punched his access code into the Comm. link terminal. After the requisite Fleet emblem came on, the tiny screen showed the origin of the call as being from Selene, the home world. Rouy wiped a layer of dust from the screen and collected himself.

“Initiate.”

The face of Admiral Lusen came into view. “Admiral, I was hoping they would assign your people to this one,” Rouy began.

Lusen was a gruff, but personable man of sixty years. His voice was hoarse from years of smoking cigars and his dark skin was cracked and weathered like some old time sailor from the ocean world of Drexel. After releasing a trail of smoke, Lusen spoke, “Hello Dwayne, I’m glad to be of service. Sorry to hear about Bret, we served together back in the old days.”

Rouy held back his grin, “I’m going to say something at the funeral service, and I’ll mention your regrets.”

Lusen nodded solemnly. “Look, this incident is being kept quiet around here for obvious reasons. We don’t need the inner worlds getting jittery about new enemy weapons. Especially with all the anti-war demonstrations going on,” Rouy nodded his agreement as the Admiral paused.

“We figure they’ve cooked up this new mystery platform on M-61. We’ve got contacts on Dezzen that have been feeding us curious reports for the past six months. Until now, we haven’t put much precedent in them. What have your people been able to put together so far?”

The Admiral sat back and took another drag from his cigar as Rouy spoke.

“We’re working on some time distortions that I suspect are imprint signs of some kind. It doesn’t look like they had any idea they were about to be engaged. Whatever happened happened quickly. We estimate the entire incident took less than ten minutes. I’ll keep you informed on our progress.”

“Good. All the fronts have been briefed, but I doubt that we’ll get stung again for a while. I don’t care much for hunches, but I got a bad feeling about this one,” Lusen said as he pulled on the collar of his dress whites. It was imperative that they begin searching for the mystery ship as soon as possible. Rouy’s ship would need help and protection. Lusen was already searching for a suitable Task Force.

“I’m inclined to agree with you, sir. We’re feeling a bit homeless out here; did Fleet Con find us a new nest?”

Lusen looked away for a moment and then nodded, “Yes. Task Force twenty-two, a cruiser division, that’s Mace Caiden’s charge. He’s en route to your position now, estimated time of arrival in two days. In the mean time, stay low.”

Rouy grunted, “We’re out in the open here, not even a rock to hide under.”

Lusen put the cigar down and tried to look confident. “My guess is they wanted you guys to witness what happened, so our council would get intimidated. It almost worked. I just came from a special Senate briefing and they were furious. Hopefully we were able to talk them out of going public for now. Be on the lookout for propaganda blitzes on the civilian wavelengths. Jam everything in your sector.”

“Understood,” Rouy said.

“Good luck Captain, I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you and the same with your mission. Griffin out.”

As Rouy signed off, it occurred to him what he could do to honor Bowman’s death. He would dedicate his last few months of military service, to tracking down and destroying the menace that attacked Fleet 221. The task would not be easy, but it would give him and his crew something to strive for while they searched for closure.

“To tell you the truth, I knew the war would be different the moment I first laid eyes on it. It just felt like a game changer.”

― Admiral Jake Lusen, Starstriker Command

On first seeing the Eclipse intelligence reports.

Chapter 5

Admiral Lusen sat back in his specially contoured chair and chewed on his cigar. It was still a few hours before dawn. He hated to initiate a staff recall at odd hours, but this couldn’t wait. He had to get his people going on this before he met with the Combined Chiefs of Staff, later in the morning.

Lusen addressed the computer room agent and ordered it to initiate a staff recall. The artificially intelligent agent program could read the slight regret in the Admiral’s scratchy voice and decided to notify the staff in the least intrusive way. In seconds, everyone on the Admiral’s staff would be getting an early wake up call.

Lusen spun his chair around and dematerialized the window tinting. He sat for a few minutes smoking and thinking as he watched the sunrise reflected off the peaks of the Osten Ridge Mountains behind the port city of Domeo. A bright star was in conjunction with one of the gas giants of the Selene system. Lusen watched the two glowing lights flickering in the upper atmosphere, knowing that he would soon be sending a team not far from the bright blue super giant known as M-61.

Centar Havic was dreaming. He knew this because he was preparing for a mission with his three best teammates, one of whom was dead. Sloan was busy field stripping his rifle, and going on about some past mission. Dekka was studying a technical manual, occasionally looking up with a thin grin and Kiloe was loading up his jump suit and looking very much like the perfect Starstriker agent – dashing and confident at the same time.

Centar wanted to say something to Sloan but his friend was not having it; insisting instead on reliving what they had done in the past. What it was exactly, Centar could not determine. Sloan's wavy blond hair was hanging down in front of blue eyes and he was constantly pushing it back. His boyish face smiling as he told the humorous story. Centar had already forgotten that Sloan loved to tell jokes and always seemed to see the brighter side of things, even when they were in a world of hell and things were looking grim all around - like the night Sloan had died.

Centar wanted to say that he missed his friend and that he was sorry that they wound up on that fateful mission that Sloan did not return from. That was when he heard the recall message from the neural receiver implanted in his brain. The attention getting signal was just loud and annoying enough to wake him from his dream.

When he opened his heavy eyelids, he noticed the room was still dark. A subdued window clock displayed the time as zero four hundred hours. The automated recall voice directed him to return to his office at Starstriker Headquarters without delay. Centar looked over at his sleeping wife and sighed. He knew she would be leaving on another school charter later in the day, and he might not get to see her before she left. But he couldn’t bring himself to wake her at this early hour.

He slowly slipped out of bed and padded over to the dressing room to grab a quick sonic shower and put on his uniform. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, he saw a tired and aging man. There were dark bags under his blue-gray eyes and growing numbers of gray hairs in his black beard.

He thought about losing Sloan again and how badly he wanted to reverse things that happened that fateful day. It was like reliving Sloan's death all over again, and it didn't get any easier. It had only been a few weeks since the funeral and he was still having dreams about his dead friend.

He fingered the course strands of hair that grew from his jaw line. Terrible to be getting this gray in his forties, he thought. Straightening a little, he turned to one side and then another. They did give him a more distinguished look. He soon forgot about the gray hairs and did his best to purge thoughts of Sloan from his mind as he stepped into the shower stall.

After taking his shower, he quickly put on the famous Starstriker jump suit. His graying hair blended well with the gunmetal gray of the uniform. Before the sight of him in the mirror began to depress him, he ran a comb through his hair and turned off the light.

He took one last look at his wife. Her blond hair fell across a bare shoulder as she hugged her pillow. He wanted to stay and snuggle up with her; to tell her about his dream and hold her tightly in his arms, but he didn’t. He reluctantly turned away and left her alone in her peaceful slumber. Duty called.

When she heard the front door slide shut, Millie opened her eyes and rolled over to see what time it was. She was a light sleeper and she had heard him getting dressed. It was no mystery to her, as to where he was heading. She knew he had been recalled for something, but she couldn’t imagine what it was. He was always sneaking off at odd hours of the night to help plan some covert mission to a remote part of the galaxy where Starstriker teams were arming a defenseless planet against overwhelming enemy forces or something like that. He never spoke much about the details of his job, but he often listened patiently as she rambled about her marine research work.

A part of her secretly enjoyed being married to someone in the Starstrikers. After all, it was kind of romantic, in a cloak and dagger sort of way. But mostly, it was just plain lonely. She really couldn’t blame him for everything though, since her job often took her to remote ocean worlds for months at a time. She got up and moved to the curved windows that looked out onto the sea. The sun was a hazy red ball, rising slowly over the mountains. She rested her knee on the padded seat that was built into the concave window and wondered at what her husband was getting involved with this time. Still feeling a little drowsy, she folded herself up on the love seat and fell asleep watching the sunrise.

It was just past four thirty in the morning when Commander Havic arrived at his office. A yeoman met him at the door, looking as if she had been up all night. Her hair was frayed from being tied up in a hurry and she had dark shadows under her blood shot eyes.

“Good morning commander, the admiral wants to see you right away. Here’s your schedule and mission briefing,” she handed him a data pad and a cup of steaming nutrients.

“Thanks. Pulling an all-nighter, Jenna?”

She managed a weak smile; “He called me at two am, right after I just got home from a party down at the pier. Whatever this is all about, it better be worth it.”

“You mean you wouldn’t have been up this late otherwise?” he said, knowing that she probably was more irritated at having to leave her lover’s bed, than anything.

“Go right in. He’s been asking for you, every five minutes.”

Yeoman Jenna returned to her desk and took a minute to down another cup of liquid stimulant. Then she pulled herself back up again to greet another arriving staff officer.

Centar entered Lusen’s office and was immediately accosted by the silver haired admiral. “Son, what took you so long?” he said, as he grabbed Centar’s free hand and shook it firmly.

“I came as soon as I could, admiral,” was all Centar had time to say before the admiral was introducing him to the other occupants of the room.

“I’d like you to meet Vice Admiral Kelley, he’s in charge of border patrols for the Second Wing,” Lusen said, continuing to introduce people before Centar could say anything or do anything other than shake their hands and nod politely. “This is Commander Reyna, she’s with Fleet Intel, First Wing. Lieutenant Commander Idell, project leader for the Shrike design team, and Mr. Sitaro from linguistics.” Centar knew Idell and Sitaro from previous encounters but he had never met the vice admiral or the Intelligence commander.

Centar finished shaking Sitaro’s hand and took his position around the admiral’s holo projector. Lusen moved to the center of the circle as he called for a secure sweep of the room. In seconds the Room Agent had cleared the room ensuring an electro magnetically sealed environment.

“All right, here’s the deal. Early this evening, our time, Fleet 221, a cruiser division lead by Captain Bowman, was attacked and completely destroyed by an unknown aggressor. The snooper ship, Griffin was left untouched and is investigating the scene at this time. We have very little to go on, but it appears the Vot’s have tested a new weapon platform on us.” Lusen paused for a moment and then continued.

“As of right now, I’m officially opening the M-61 Operation Plan. Commander Havic will handpick a team of four agents and execute a deep reckon of the Balnor shipyards on Dezzen. Admiral Kelley’s people will escort your team to and from the Neutral Zone. All available Starstriker teams in conjunction with the Admiral’s divisions will be moved to the far end of the Life Belt and effect a defensive augmentation for a possible border invasion in that sector. Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that, because I doubt the Surface Army will agree to help defend a non-aligned planet so far from the inner worlds. Commander Reyna will now give us a briefing based on the latest news from Dezzen.”

With that, the admiral stood back into the circle with everyone else and Commander Reyna took a step forward, activating the holo projector. A detailed globe of the planet Dezzen materialized before everyone. As she spoke, Centar couldn’t help but notice how perfectly pressed her black uniform was or how harshly her dark lipstick contrasted with her pale white face. She seemed to personify the cold, heartless image of the perfect Intel troop, dispassionate, inquisitive and all knowing. Her crisp, cool voice seemed to lower the ambient room temperature.

“Our Dezzian contacts have been unable to get us any reliable information about a new class of warship that was recently completed at Balnor. The security has tightened to Tier Four around the entire planet. No one is allowed into the system, only official transports are allowed out. Before this latest clamp down, the reports we were getting, referred to the construction of an unusually large platform, even by our standards. The project was code named, Krakau-ne-Kota, which translates into Black Star.”

“Excuse me, commander, but a closer translation would be Brown Dwarf,” Mr. Sitaro interrupted. “The Votainion root for dark or black has many variations, but when used with the noun, Kota, it refers to the enigmatic Brown Dwarf stars.”

Commander Reyna coldly nodded to the civilian translator. She clearly didn’t appreciate being interrupted during her briefing. Before she could continue, Lusen spoke up, “Brown Dwarfs have historically been the most elusive stars for astronomers to identify. Not massive enough to continue shining, but far denser then a gas giant planet.”

Vice Admiral Kelley nodded in agreement, “Yes, I’ve seen one close up before. It didn’t appear on any of our stellar charts, we damn near ran right through it. Played hell with our scanners too, something about the magnetic fields generated by its mass. Incredibly macabre looking object - swirling brown and red outer heliosphere, never forget it.”

Before the elder admiral could digress any further, Lusen got them back on track, “Let’s keep this in mind while we try and decipher just what this warship is capable of doing,” Lusen finished, motioning for the commander to continue.

“Thank you admiral, the Dezzian operatives working on the project alluded to the unusual star drive that was shipped in from deep within the Empire. None of the local workers were allowed onto the site until it was installed. Other sensitive areas of the new ship seem to be its communication arrays and its core control. The rest of it is standard Votainion hull design.”

“It is our belief that the star drive and communication designs are interrelated in some manner. We’ve been unable to intercept subspace transmissions, coded or otherwise from the Votainion Armada’s Central Command to the new ship in space. Other deep space communications traffic has been routine, indicating no unusual Armada activity. When the Black,” Reyna flashed the civilian translator a cold smile. “I mean, Brown Dwarf, is out to space, it’s as if they operate without official Armada control. This as we all know, is highly unusual procedure for them.

“That leads us to suspect that a regional Kastrum Lord is running the project himself, also, highly unprecedented behavior. We believe the Emperor’s own tactical advisor; Lord Krugger is running the secret Brown Dwarf project. His Kastrum owns the M-61 system and most of the high-tech production facilities needed for development of a new technology,” She activated the holo projector again and it rendered a theoretical sketch of the mystery starship in wire form.

“This is what we’re dealing with, according to the Dezzian agents. Twin tube standard “C” Class drives in the traditional outboard position. A wide, flat body containing enough interior capacity for two fully equipped divisions. At least four standard fighter squadrons and assorted support craft housed inside the main body. A detachable head with command and control sections and minimal berthing,” She paused while the others gasped at the sheer size of the starship. Continuing her description, she slowly paced around the circle, her black eyes scrutinizing everyone.

“It only has minimal ship to ship maser cannons, and virtually no anti-fighter defenses. Shielding and cruising speeds are both unknowns. The platform is too large to maneuver accurately with the outboard drives; we suspect that they are a back-up or reserve component for the main power plant. These large circular areas on the dorsal and ventral sides appear to have something to do with the new technology. That’s all we can deduce at this time.”

Kelley stepped forward to examine the rotating design, “This is a damn invasion ship. A couple of these monsters and they could just walk right into the inner systems and take them at will.”

Lusen nodded, “I think that’s what they have in mind, Pete.”

Something didn’t seem right about all this to Centar. As far as he knew it was against every Votainion precedent to build such a massive and resource-laden vehicle. The Imperial Command avoided putting all its resources into one project at every level. Their giant armadas consisted of large formations of smaller ships, designed to swarm around Alliance fleets and overwhelm them with sheer numbers. Most of the time, their warships were a generation behind the latest Alliance starships. For them to be suddenly building an obviously superior and expensive weapon just didn’t ring true.

“Excuse me admiral, but this doesn’t feel right to me,” Centar finally said.

“What do you mean?” Lusen asked.

“Why would they suddenly be putting all their resources into one project?”

Everyone turned to look at him surprised that he had asked such a simple question. Centar ignored the stares and explained himself; “The enemy has always had the upper hand in technology. But they never get to use that strength to their advantage before we are able to replicate it or copy it from them. Instead of stepping up their research, they’ve always built their ships on standard, tried and true technology. Presumably, so they can mass-produce it and build large armadas. If this is the predicted Third Generation of war related technology, why are they changing their tactics and risking exposure to us before it is fully integrated into their armadas?”

Lusen leaned back and smiled to himself. This was why he had been so anxious for Centar to attend the meeting. He had a knack for getting to the bottom of things, something that Lusen was fond of doing himself. The two men worked quite well together, often arriving at the same conclusion from two very different paths. Centar’s position on his staff was a bit unusual, in that Lusen allowed him access to higher level briefings such as this one, in order to gain his valuable strategic inputs. On a deeper, personal level, Lusen had always considered Centar family. Like the son he never had. He seemed to take pride in Centar’s achievements and did his best to help him along with his career, without making it appear too much like favoritism.

“Mr. Sitaro, what do we know about the current political situation on Voton? Is something going on that may warrant drastic measures on their part?” Lusen asked the professor.

Sitaro toyed with the beard on his chin for a moment, already deep in thought about Votainion politics. He didn’t appear to even hear the admiral’s question. After an unusually long moment, Lusen started to repeat his question and was interrupted by the quirky professor, “Most of what we know of Votainion politics is rumor and supposition. However, in recent years, there has been a noticeable increase in the number of attempts to dethrone Emperor Mizure. A full half of the twelve Kastrum is pushing for reform and a diplomatic end to the war. The other half are steadfast against conciliation and are working to expand the Empire in order to shore up a noticeable decrease in scarce natural resources from within their present boundaries.

“One could deduce that these events might lead them to look for a more efficient method for which to end the war with our Alliance,” he halted as suddenly as he had started and continued to stroke his silver beard.

Lusen looked to Centar and nodded, “Let’s leave that for the politicians to haggle about. Right now, we’ve got a mission to execute. Commander Idell, is the Shrike ready to launch?”

Idell was a thin, gaunt man in his late twenties. Before being drafted, he graduated with honors at the Omuto University of Engineering, specializing in small stellar craft design. One of his fighter concepts was in final development with the First Wing and his sleek staff shuttle had quickly become the fleet standard while he was still in graduate school. Idell preferred to work alone, often having to be ordered out of his design studio to present his ideas or just to take leave. He clearly hated being forced away from his current project at this late hour, as it was his most productive work time. Like most talented engineers his age, he preferred to work late at night and alone.

“Considering what I was given to work with, it’s as ready as it ever will be,” he said with a cynical shrug.

Lusen decided not to press for details at this time. Besides, a certain amount of self-confidence was to be expected and even desirable. He stood up and culled the Top Secret OP-PLAN, M-61, from the holo projector. It was low on flash but heavy on substance. Detailed mission outlines and possible scenarios unfolded in diagram form visible from all around the table by everyone.

Lusen launched into his fast paced and cursory explanation of the mission details, pausing only to take a quick draw on his rare weed cigar. Smoking had gone out of favor in recent times, despite fragrant blends that offended only the most sensitive individuals. But Lusen was always a little behind the times when it came to social etiquette. Being a high-ranking admiral pretty much meant he could do whatever he pleased and few could tell him otherwise. This included forcing everyone to stand for his staff meetings, so they wouldn’t be tempted to dose off.

After about fifteen minutes he wrapped up the presentation and paused for questions. Nobody really wanted to be cooped up in the now smoke filled room with the ranting admiral any longer than necessary, so no one ventured any questions. Besides, they were all getting a little tired of standing by now. Lusen secured the holo projector and stepped out of the circle.

“I can see you all want to get out of here, so I won’t keep you any longer. Let me just remind you of the urgency of this mission. If this Brown Dwarf ship strikes again, the result will be far greater than the massive loss of life. It could wind up changing the course of this war for the worse. The sentiment in the Congress is as divided as it ever has been. There is a growing anti-war movement in the inner worlds and it won’t take much for them to capitulate and demand a submissive end to this conflict. I don’t need to remind you of what that would mean to civilization, as we know it. Let’s crack open this beast and put it to rest before it becomes the instrument of our downfall.”

Lusen paused to look into the eyes of everyone present. They each came from one of the inner worlds and they had probably all seen and been affected by the protesters. In an unpopular war, nobody appreciated the individual acts of sacrifice made by those in uniform, until long after the peace had been won. In this war, peace had come in waves followed by violent periods of fighting. No single generation now living had ever known the true peace that had existed before the Great War. But enough people had experienced the lull in fighting that resulted from interstellar warfare and thought they knew peace. It was a dangerous mindset and everyone in the armed forces knew that it was as deadly a weapon as any machine. Only disciplined vigilance would win such a battle of wits in a millennial conflict.

“Meeting adjourned,” grunted Admiral Lusen.

“The Starstrikers had only been in existence for a short period of time in comparison to how long the Great War had been raging. While everyone in the Alliance knew of their daring exploits it was not until this time that their reason for being became clear to those outside close military circles. While other more covert efforts had been made to secure the Next Generation Votainion technological secrets, it was this particular mission that the Alliance gained the exact specifications of the new technology. No other single military engagement would have a more lasting effect on the outcome of the war.”

― Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press.

Chapter 6

Starstriker Command was more than just the administrative hub of the elite military unit; it was also a fully equipped training facility. Buried deep within a maze of administrative sections and security checkpoints was a very sophisticated neural projector suite. Here is where the Strike Team leaders regularly put their people through a mental and physical wringer that simulated the stresses of covert operations. Dubbed “The House of Horrors,” by both students and instructors, just standing in the dark chambers took on a sinister feeling.

After several hours of mission planning and meetings, Commander Centar Havic found himself standing in the dim light of suite six, watching his team leader put a student through an exercise in aerofighter evasion technique. Both individuals were laying prone on what resembled cushioned operating tables and smelled like a cross between a gym and a hospital. They were wired into a virtual, neural network that let them believe they were in separate aerofighters engaged in a particularly dirty dogfight against each other.

All the senses were simulated in such detail that some students, under severe stress, would thrash about, flailing their arms and legs as though experiencing a nightmare. To prevent injury, they were restrained in a force field and their vitals were constantly monitored by a dedicated med droid. Centar watched as their fists clenched open and shut and their heads turned from side to side in desperate attempts to see the other’s position.

Lieutenant Commander Dekka was the more relaxed of the two, having flown far more missions, training and actual, than anyone else in Starstrikers. His slender ebony form rested calmly, chest rising and falling in regular, controlled breaths. His student, Lieutenant Tamia, was breathing heavily and working herself into an anxious sweat. They wore just their underclothes for easy medical access and to prevent sweat from staining their uniforms unnecessarily. A sonic shower was included in every suite for those particularly stressful sessions.

The med droid running this exercise acknowledged Centar’s presence and motioned for him to move into the observation post. Tactical screens winked on and showed the progress of the exercise. Centar could see both officers in their respective planes and get a big picture of what the opposition was up to.

“I need to break in, audio only, please.”

The droid blinked its visual actuators and opened a comlink.

“Dek, you’re being too easy on her. You’re not getting soft in your old age are you?”

Tamia let out a huff, “Hardly. He’s kicking my but out here, sir!”

Dekka’s dark eyes seemed to shine as he pounced on Tamia’s aerofighter and quickly split it open in a brilliant volley of cannon fire. Her cockpit morphed into a glass casket that sailed on beside Dekka’s fighter. Dekka waived innocently at her as she helplessly cruised by him.

With the exercise over, the lights came up in the room and both participants were slowly awakened. Centar came down to the sunken pit and handed Tamia a towel. She accepted it and quickly dried her glistening body with it. Dekka was studying his old friend as he pulled the monitoring wires off of his body. “What’s going on upstairs? The place is crawling with rank.”

“Admiral’s opening Operation Plan M Sixty-one,” Centar said.

“We’re finally going to Dezzen,” Dekka responded.

Centar nodded solemnly. Tamia knew what they were referring too; all the teams had been practicing lately for a covert drop on the Votainion construction planet. It was just a matter of time before the word came down.

“Have you picked your team yet, sir?” Tamia asked Centar.

He shook his head and looked back at Dekka. After the death of Lieutenant Sloan, Centar gave the job of finding a replacement to Dekka. He trusted Dekka’s judgment and knew that if anyone could find a replacement for the fallen comrade; it was the man who had trained them all, Dekka.

“I’d like to volunteer. That is, if you think I’m ready?” Tamia asked.

Dekka studied her with his compassionate, brown eyes. “I think you’re ready, the question is, do you feel you’re ready?”

“Yes sir, I was born ready,” came the cocky reply from the serious brunette.

Dekka looked back to his old friend Centar and the two shared a knowing smile. A certain amount of self-confidence was expected from Starstriker agents; few individuals were as thoroughly cross-trained as a rated strike team member. In fact, the Starstrikers were so adept at nearly everything; they were considered modern legends by the popular media. Epic dramas about how a handful of Starstrikers could save an entire planet or change the course of the war elevated them to hero status among the youth of the Western Alliance.

“Get your shower and meet us in the Team Conference Room. You’re going with us,” Dekka told her dryly.

Centar shook her hand, “Welcome aboard, hot shot.”

“Thanks. I won’t let you down, sirs,” Tamia said as if to reassure them that she was the right one for the job. She took her leave of them and headed for the showers.

“Was I ever that way?” Centar asked.

“Yes.”

Centar looked askance at his friend, who was already heading for the showers.

A few minutes later they were all standing outside of the neural projector suite. Dekka and Tamia were clean and outfitted in pressed jumpsuits ready to start their day.

“Personnel scans indicate Kiloe may be down on the lower levels again,” Centar said.

In the weeks after Sloan’s funeral Dekka had managed to get Kiloe sober and back on track in most areas of his life. Gambling was the one vice the young man had that Dekka could not easily break him of.

“Where did we go wrong with that one?” Dekka pondered.

“Where did you go wrong,” Centar said.

They were all wearing the slate gray colored strike-team jump suits that were the trademark of the Starstrikers. No other duty uniform in the armed forces was as advanced or as difficult to obtain. Although functional, it certainly wasn’t going to win you any fashion points.

“You wouldn’t by chance happen to know where Lieutenant Kiloe frequents down in the lower levels, would you?” Centar asked Tamia.

The question put her in a difficult position and it showed on her face. She knew where he was, but she also knew that he wasn’t supposed to be there. Should she break her vow of silence in order to win points with her new boss, or play dumb and hope they don’t catch on to her? “No sir," she heard herself say, before she had time to think it through. Her voice was not as confident as her answer was.

Centar moved to within inches of Tamia’s face and stared hard into her green eyes. She didn’t flinch and returned his steely-eyed stare. She didn’t see her instructor move behind her until he stuck his finger into the small of her back.

“You’re busted,” Dekka said. “We know where he hangs out, and we also know that he’s told you about it. We wanted to see how you handled peer allegiance.”

Tamia cracked a nervous smile, “How did I do?”

Centar shrugged and turned away from them, “I hope you never tell on me, Lieutenant. My wife hates attending military funerals.”

Tamia’s shoulders slumped and her smile wore off. Dekka moved around her and joined up with Centar. Turning back before they left the room, he motioned for her to join them. “Come on, let’s go get Killer.”

Lieutenant “Killer” Kiloe wasn’t wearing his military uniform. He preferred not to advertise his abilities when gambling. He wore nondescript civilian clothes, complete with dark star glasses, making it difficult for anyone to positively identify him.

The Creetin’s mirrored eye clusters were impossible to read. You had to know all the possible emotional responses for the species to tell if it was bluffing or not. Fortunately for Kiloe, one of his many interests included exotic species behavior.

When the Creetin slowly brushed an antenna over the top of its left eye, Kiloe knew it was nervous. A nervous gambler always fidgeted, no matter what species he was.

The Dealer droid began folding up the cards and retracted into a defensive posture. It knew that Kiloe’s accusation was correct; it was simply getting out of the way. The pressure suited Sci-Monce set his hand down and moved away from the table. His respirator labored away, recycling the toxic yellow atmosphere of his home word.

Kiloe and the Creetin were locked into a show down. The Creetin was unarmed as near as Kiloe could tell, which was good, because he forgot to bring his own side arm. The Creetin’s brown spotted exoskeleton glistened under the harsh light above the table. It slowly moved a mandible up and down with an irritating grinding sound. Patience, Kiloe thought. All you have to do is wait it out. He won’t over react if you can maintain your cool.

The door to the cubicle slid open flooding the room with daylight. Two silhouetted figures moved in. The Creetin produced a thin-barreled laser tube from out of nowhere and pointed it awkwardly at Kiloe’s head. At the same time, it shoveled the metal sheck chips it had won, into a satchel around its thorax.

Kiloe froze, maintaining his cool. Unfortunately, his fellow team members acted on impulse to save their friend’s life.

Centar thrust himself forward, knocking Kiloe out of the Creetin’s line of fire. Dekka drew his side arm and squeezed off several shots at the startled alien.

“No, Dek!” Kiloe shouted a moment too late, as the green stun beams engulfed the Creetin.

Tamia rushed in to steady the other players. The Sci-Monce had gracefully swung back and drew a Votainion Falchion. Everyone stared in awe at the Creetin as it dropped its weapon and froze. Kiloe and Centar picked themselves up off the floor as the Creetin collapsed. It broke apart at the joints upon impacting the floor. A dark pool of purplish blood formed around the carcass.

Dekka quickly holstered his weapon. He had an innocent look on his dark face.

“I only stunned it,” he said, looking to Kiloe for an answer.

“Their nervous system can’t handle the plasma from a stun beam. You should have hit it full on.”

“Next time,” Dekka said.

Centar opened a line on his comlink and called for a security detail. The players began pocketing their winnings. Kiloe inspected the Creetin’s corpse, careful to not breath in the noxious fumes rising as steam from the carcass.

Tamia watched him, “You weren’t armed, were you?”

“Nope. I was betting that he would back down.”

She picked up the alien’s laser tube. It was on the kill setting.

“You’re lucky we came when we did. This was set to kill.”

Kiloe shrugged, “He wouldn’t have shot me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He was too scared.”

Tamia raised her brow. She was about to continue when Centar cut her off. “All right people; let’s clear out of here. We have business to attend.”

The dealer droid watched them all like a mother bird protecting her nest.

“Everyone out, this game is over. Remember, the house gets five percent of all winnings,” the droid said.

Kiloe slapped down a chip and slid it across the table to the droid.

“See you later, Fingers.”

The droid managed to utter what sounded like a huff. “Why is it you always leave a mess when you play here?” It asked, as it snatched up the chip with its limber metal fingers.

“I don’t really know,” Kiloe said, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “I guess it’s just part of my charm."

The ready room was located in the central hub of Starstriker Headquarters. It was the most secure area of the building. The room was rectangular shaped and just big enough to accommodate six people, standing. A narrow station in the center of the dark room served as both a table and a projection system for the multimedia displays. The decor was polished black with no windows, no pictures and no amenities.

Commander Havic and his team were all standing at attention around the center station awaiting Admiral Lusen’s arrival. They had changed into their slate black mission suits, anticipating an immediate departure. Centar had briefed them on what happened to Fleet 221. Everyone was ready for a little payback.

Lusen stepped into the cold ready room and returned Centar’s salute. “At ease, people,” he said. Taking a position opposite Centar, the Admiral exhaled smoke from his ever-present cigar.

“Earlier today, I attended a Joint Chief’s meeting with the President. Needless to say, we got her day off to a pleasant start. She gave us permission to use any means necessary to locate and eradicate whatever destroyed Fleet Task Force 221. What that means to us, is that we’re finally going to Dezzen.”

The air of anticipation in the room was palatable. They had been training for this mission for weeks without knowing for sure if they would ever be given the opportunity to execute it. Nobody looked forward to flying into harm’s way, but it was their job and a certain satisfaction came in being allowed to do it.

“The Thrusher is in orbit and ready to take us to the Western Border. From there we’ll release three Nova class ships in separate directions. Yours will proceed to M-61. You will complete the mission by returning via the old GCU Franklin in the Caloundria system.”

Dekka raised an eye at the Admiral’s mentioning of the Franklin. His first deep space tour was aboard the grand old fleet carrier. That was a very long time ago. The Admiral’s course voice snapped Dekka out of his remembrance.

“This is primarily a fact finding mission. Make your way to Con-One and download all new design data and get the hell out. If you’re caught or separated, you are expendable. I can’t afford to send a rescue party that deep into Krugger’s backyard.”

He paused for a moment to look into everyone’s eyes. There was the distinct possibility that some of them would not make it back. That always irritated him. He hated losing his people more than anything.

“You’re the best we have. I know you’ll get what we need to destroy this enemy ship. I don’t have to remind you how much is riding on this one. You need only think of the families of those people killed in Fleet 221. Think of your own families, if we can’t stop this terror.”

The resolution was evident on everyone’s face as Lusen turned to leave.

“Good luck Starstrikers.”

They snapped to attention as their leader left the room. Centar spoke after the door slid shut. “Get your gear and assemble in bay four. Dismissed.”

“The Nova Class strike ship was the most difficult design I ever worked on. The specs were outrageous; they wanted that damn ship to do the impossible on a daily basis. I like to think that I gave the Starstrikers something they could rely on, no matter what the mission required.”

― Commander Ari Idell, Starstriker Command.

Taken from his personal memoir, Functional Forms - Designing for the Impossible.

Chapter 7

The low slung, twin boomed starship filled the servicing bay, leaving precious room for ground servicing crews to maneuver under and around it. The light from banks of lights on the ceiling of the bay became absorbed by the starship’s outer skin. Sensitive areas of the ship were cloaked with diffusion grids - holographic projections designed to fool visual sightings.

Lieutenants Kiloe and Tamia were standing beside the nose of the Shrike, gesturing wildly with their hands, engaged in the timeless art of hanger flying. Kiloe was in the process of making his way around the ship, in another timeless routine known as the preflight inspection. Commander Dekka was consulting with the propulsion chief about the condition of the tunnel drive units. They were only working at close to ninety-eight percent efficiency. Dekka was demanding to know why they weren’t at a hundred and ten percent. The chief wasn’t giving him the pleasure of an argument. He simply told the commander his grievance was with the drive manufacturers not his maintenance troops. When Trestar Tunnel started making drive units that ran more efficiently, his troops would tweak them accordingly. Dekka backed down, knowing the chief was probably right. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He changed the subject to sub light thrusters and continued to argue for more power and tighter quality control.

Commander Havic was standing across the bay on the vid-phone with someone at the Marina docks. The kid was blond and evenly tanned.

“She’s on a charter Mr. Havic. They’re due back later this afternoon.”

“Can you put me through to her ship?”

The kid looked around his area and then nodded, “Sure, one moment.” The connection went dead and for a second he thought he was disconnected.

Another bright young face answered from the Sealogger’s main deck.

“G’day sir.”

“Is Doctor Havic available? I’m her husband.”

“Sorry, Mr. Havic. She’s no longer with us. She was airlifted out about an hour ago.”

Centar looked away disappointed. Where the hell did she go off to now? Why couldn’t she stay connected like everyone else? When it came to neurocellular implants, his wife was a bit old fashioned. She treasured her silence and anyway, nobody could force her to have an implant.

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No sir.”

“All right, thanks.”

He terminated the connection and picked up his flight bag. On his way over to the Shrike, he stopped to look out the open side of the bay. Several sailboats were in the waters off shore. He wondered where his wife was again and if she knew he’d be leaving this soon. Maybe he should have left a message with her students.

Dekka approached, “Did you get a hold of her?"

“No.”

“Be easy, my friend. She’ll live, and so will you.”

“I’m okay Dekka. Are we ready to lift off?”

“We’re waiting on...” Dekka trailed off.

From across the bay, Admiral Lusen’s entourage arrived. Centar followed Dekka’s gaze to the commotion. Several aides were hauling the admiral’s luggage. He was only going as far as his command ship in orbit, but it looked like he was going on a deep space safari.

“...His majesty,” Dekka finished.

Centar shot him a hard look. He didn’t care for anyone bad talking the admiral, especially his best friend. Dekka’s eyes brightened as he nodded to the admiral.

“Admiral, let me help you with that.”

Havic looked back towards the entrance in time to see a beautiful blond woman step into the bay. She wore a white beach wrap and deck shoes. Her hair was windblown and her skin still wet with sea spray, but she looked fabulous. More than a few heads turned when she entered a room. Millie spotted him and the two met halfway in a hug.

“I called your charter, they said you were gone,” Havic said into her ear.

“The admiral had someone fly out to snatch me away. I think he’s feeling guiltier about these sudden missions than you are.”

They glanced at the commotion of Dekka trying to take the admiral’s bags for him, “Jake’s a good man.”

“So are you. Don’t even consider not coming back to me in one piece from wherever you’re going.”

Centar smiled sheepishly, “I’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

They kissed passionately and hugged tight. A recall horn sounded and the bay began to clear out. An officer came over to escort Millie to the observation deck as the starship’s sub light drive began its startup whine. Centar hoisted his bag over a shoulder and headed to the starboard ramp. Before he stepped aboard he looked over his shoulder one last time. She was looking down at him, proud and strong. He blew her a kiss. She caught it and turned away. In a moment, she was gone.

He knew that she never could bear to see him leave. It hurt him to watch her turn away, but he understood why and respected her right to do it. Saying good-bye to each other had been a reality of their six-year marriage, the other reality being homecomings. Centar wondered more than a few times during long missions, whether or not it was a healthy relationship. As long as she was there when he returned, he figured it must have been working okay.

Inside the Shrike’s flight deck everyone was settling into their crash seats. It would be a short hop into orbit, so nobody was getting too comfortable especially Tamia. The admiral had claimed Tamia’s usual place so she had to make due with a fold out jump seat along the inside wall. She didn’t care for flying in the sideways position - nobody did. By not complaining about it, she earned points with everyone on the team, whether she realized it or not.

Centar took his seat on the left in the command pilot’s position. Kiloe would be doing all of the piloting on the mission, but it was Centar’s privilege to fly the first leg. Besides, he needed the flight time to remain current on his rating. The burdens of command often left him fewer chances to fly then he would have liked.

After a few cursory adjustments and departure clearances, he was ready to launch. Easing the control yoke forward while lifting the thrusters, Centar guided the Shrike gently into the afternoon skies. In a matter of minutes they were breaking free of Selene’s pull and gaining on the Starstriker command ship, GCU Thrusher. The Thrusher was the newest starship in the fleet. It was continually being upgraded with the latest technology; virtually assuring that it would always be the most advanced starship in the Alliance.

Shrouded in secrecy and mystique, the Thrusher perpetuated the heroic myth of the Starstriker organization. It had been used in every major battle fought by the Starstrikers and somehow always managed to bring ‘em back safely.

The forward cantilever sweep of the ship’s hull gave it the look of a sweeping bird of prey. A formidable array of weapons backed up that aggressive look with devastating firepower. In ship-to-ship engagements, the Thrusher was often used as a spike to wedge open the enemy’s strongest flank. The crew often referred to it as a fighter rather than a starship, despite the fact that it could easily carry one division of surface troops, twelve fighters and a full crew compliment.

Centar guided the Shrike expertly into the glide path of the Thrusher’s main shuttle bay. Kiloe monitored the ship’s status, feeling a bit bored with the whole flight. He was looking forward to jumping into a Spieron cockpit and trying out some new maneuvers he had dreamed up. Flying the virtual Sims at the headquarters was no comparison to the real thing. At least that’s what he kept telling himself when the computers waxed his tail in simulated dogfights. Perhaps he would ask Tamia to go with him on a recon flight. She would surely be impressed with his natural flying abilities.

Once they were locked into the glide path, the Thrusher’s automated tractor beam pulled them into the bay and gently set them down. Thirty minutes later, the Thrusher moved away from Selene and engaged its tunnel drive. Two days later it would reappear near the Neutral Zone, some forty light years away.

“I had never met Captain Caiden until his fleet arrived to protect us. He was taller than I pictured in my mind and he just radiated confidence like no other man I’ve ever known. It was easy to trust him with our lives.”

― Captain Dwayne Rouy, GCU Griffin, Second Wing, Western Alliance Fleet From an interview on Meet the Military.

Chapter 8

The voyage to the neutral zone was filled with briefings and training exercises. The foursome had little time in which to think about missing loved ones or possible outcomes of the mission; which was exactly the way Admiral Lusen had planned it. He had to keep his people motivated by keeping their minds on the task at hand. If they were allowed to think about what might happen, they could easily jeopardize the lives of their teammates and the fate of the mission.

All their training was done as a group or in two person teams. In time, they functioned so well together, it seemed like they were reading each other’s minds. Each anticipating the other’s every move in any given situation. The only weak link in their chain was Tamia. Not because she was any less of a player, she could hold her own and then some. It was because she was the newest member of the team. The other three had worked together in countless other missions and each could anticipate the other’s moves. Tamia had been integrated into their group for only a short time. She had to guess what the other members would do, until she developed the instinct for it. The others had to learn to forget what their former partner did and to not expect Tamia to do the same things that Sloan had done. It had been weeks since Sloan had been killed. Not all the team members had adjusted to his absence.

Dekka in particular, was now responsible for training Tamia, something that the headquarters medical staff had recommended. The best way for him to get over the death of Sloan, the doctors told Centar, was to let Dekka take someone new under his wing. So far, it seemed to be working. Dekka had welcomed Tamia into their group and was treating her with the care and respect he was known for. In private conversations with Centar, Dekka had expressed gratitude for having the chance to instruct her. She reminded him of his daughter, Rhea, who was a squadron commander on the GCU Selestar.

It helped that Tamia was a quick study and a disciplined individual, unlike the other member of their group, Lieutenant Kiloe. Kiloe was the youngest member of three boys in his family. Having to fight for everything during his childhood had left him as a wild and insubordinate adult. He took the shortest route every-time, preferring to shoot it out rather than outsmart an opponent. His aggressive personality would occasionally get the better of him, leading to brawls and skirmishes while off duty. Many times he found himself standing before the admiral with Commander Havic, in full dress whites, having to explain why he had been arrested the night before.

Kiloe’s reputation with the ladies was another headache for his supervisors. Centar and Dekka did their best to keep him away from Tamia during her initial Strike team introduction. As the days went by, it became clear that keeping the two young lieutenants apart would be more difficult than either man anticipated.

When Kiloe finally found the time to go joy riding with Tamia in their Spieron starfighters, she promptly waxed his tail in three out of four mock duels. Nobody had ever beaten “Killer Kiloe” that handily before. It infuriated the brash young pilot to no end. The dark eyed brunette never let him forget it either. The duel became a reoccurring dispute between them. They traded verbal jabs over meals and even during training exercises. Eventually, they realized that the tension could only be settled by getting together.

It happened in Kiloe’s apartment after a late night of drinking at The Falling Star. They spent the night working through their differences by exploring each other’s sexual prowess. After that night together, they seemed to cool towards one another, the witty and sometimes hurtful banter between them cooled down.

Centar Havic wasted no time in putting the brakes on the growing fire between Kiloe and Tamia. It was a breach of their professional and ethical conduct and would not be tolerated. Together with Dekka, they became chaperons to their lust struck charges in an effort to keep them apart.

In his daily meetings with Admiral Lusen, Centar gave no mention of the incident. He had given both of them his word that it would not be reported up the chain. They knew he could be trusted because Centar Havic was known for taking care of his people. It was one of the reasons he was readily accepted and liked by those under him. When it finally came time to leave the security of the GCU Thrusher, all four team members were anxious to get under way.

The three strike team starships launched one after the other from the bays of the GCU Thrusher. Two were intended as decoys, they fell into separate jump tunnels leading in minutely different directions. The Void was well scrutinized by Votainion border patrols that were just waiting for the Alliance to provoke them. It would take their spotters quite some time to plot the leaps of three different ships. By the time they could confirm that one of them was tunneling deep into Empire space, it would be too late to warn anyone. The Thrusher lingered in the area afterwards, to intimidate the smaller enemy patrols.

Task Force 22 rendezvoused with the GCU Griffin just as Admiral Lusen had promised. Six Class “B” starships with considerable firepower surrounded the tiny Griffin. There was a palatable feeling of relief onboard the snooper ship. They had protection once again, for what it mattered.

Captain Mace Caiden had come aboard to be briefed in person by Captain Rouy and his people. Six individuals were cramped into the tiny stateroom to make the presentation. No fancy holocharts or graphical displays were used, just the facts, delivered face to face.

Mace Caiden was one of the most aggressive starmen in the Alliance fleet. His high and tight white hair stood atop his head in marked contrast to his dark, star tanned skin. He wore the gray utility uniform of a line officer, preferring it to the standard flag officer whites. He led his task force into some of the deadliest battles of the war with all the gusto of an ancient soldier. His own people both hated his guts and worshiped him like a savior. They hated him for getting them into every fight he could find and loved him for getting them out in one piece. The crew of the Griffin was counting on him to protect them while they pursued the enigmatic enemy warship. Thanks to a fluke of luck, the sensitive listening devices on the Griffin had intercepted and decoded a routine message referring to the triumphant return of the warship, Eclipse. Now their anger had a name.

Caiden listened intently as Rouy’s people briefed him on what they knew. The Eclipse was able to surprise the fleet by using a new type of time displacement drive, the evidence for which was found in scattered surveillance buoys in the area of the attack. An analysis of enemy transmissions before and after the attack gave no warning of what was to come. Which meant the ship was acting independently of Imperial Fleet control.

Caiden sat quietly for a moment after the last crewman had spoken. He looked over at Rouy with steely eyes, “Where is this bastard now?”

Rouy glanced at his first officer. Didn’t Caiden hear what they had just told him? Comter shrugged with his eyes. Rouy returned his attention to Caiden, “Captain, we haven’t yet been able to track it.”

“Why not?”

Rouy started and then stopped. Caiden stood up from the worn metal table, “Don’t rely so much on all this," he gestured to the ship around them, “What does your gut say?” he said, fists clenched at his stomach.

“Invasion,” Rouy finally admitted.

“Correct. Now, if you had such a weapon, where would you attack?”

“Our weakest flank, to disperse our forces, spread them out.”

Caiden bared his teeth in something like a smile that came off more as a snarl.

“You see? This war stuff isn’t so hard. Inform Lusen that we are heading for the far reaches of the border. See if he can get us some back up.”

Rouy slowly nodded. This was going to be a long campaign. The further outside the inner worlds they traveled, the greater the risk in general. Not just from the enemy, but from the great unknown. Most of the known galaxy had not been properly explored. There were still vast areas just next door that sat unexplored due to the war.

The celestial matter that separated the Western from Eastern Gulf was known to have eight hospitable worlds. The borderline between the Western Alliance and the Votainion Empire was known as the Life Belt. Most of the fighting in recent decades was waged along this Life Belt. The Nanga system was currently under enemy control. Just beyond Nanga was Caloundria, the crown jewel of the territory. It was a shinning pillar of freedom and a valuable Alliance ally.

Beyond Caloundria was Tomungia, a mineral rich planet covered by ancient tropical forests and protected fiercely by an indigenous race that was steadfastly against an Alliance presence on their world. The Surface Army maintained a few remote bases on Tomungia, but had no planetary defenses in place. The local Brigade Commander had his hands full with militant tribes of the local population, but hardly ever engaged Votainion forces; which were ironic, considering how close they were to the heart of the Votainion Empire. It was possible, however unlikely, that the closest Kastra simply didn’t know they were there.

Captain Caiden returned to his flagship, the GCU Glory and deployed his fleet for the jump to the Nanga system. Commander Rouy stayed in the stateroom and placed a secure call to the GCU Thrusher. After a routing delay the image of Admiral Lusen appeared on the dusty screen.

“Dwayne, glad to see you’re still with us.”

“Yes sir. Caiden’s people arrived a short time ago. He wanted me to inform you that we’re heading for the far end of the Life Belt. We have reason to believe that the enemy will strike there next. Probably near the Nanga or Tomungian systems.”

Lusen didn’t appear too surprised to hear that. “Good. If you need any support, contact Monty’s group. They’re mixing it up with the enemy now, near Cho’ji. I doubt he can afford to cut anyone loose at the moment.”

Rouy glanced at his data pad, "Sir, Admiral Toshi has an adequate force at Caloundria.”

“I know, but his hands are tied by his government. Believe me, I know how he feels. I’ll see what I can do to rustle up some reinforcements. It’s a hell of a war.”

Lusen’s image winked off replaced by a fleet logo.

Rouy left the stateroom and took his seat on the bridge. He debated whether or not to contact Admiral Moffett. Nobody needs to take a call in the middle of a battle. He checked the progress of the battle on the tactical screens. It looked like Moffett’s people were finally getting the upper hand. Comter was aligning them for the jump to Nanga. Either he called now or waited until they arrived, possibly days later.

“Comm, put me through to Admiral Moffett on the Centel.”

He didn’t have to request a coded link, all ship to ship communications were automatically encrypted. In a matter of seconds, the main viewer showed the smoke filled bridge of the GCU Centel.

Admiral Montgomery Moffett was fighting to save his ship. Fire suppression crews were working feverishly behind him to suppress arcing electronics. Crewmen shouted at each other over the din of battle. The admiral’s flag whites were stained with blood and burnt with smoke. His graying hair was a mess as he wiped sweat from his brow. Despite all the chaos around him, he stood tall when the call came through. “Oh, hello Dwayne. Anything wrong?”

Rouy was incredulous. The man’s ship was falling apart in the heat of battle and he acted like everything was normal, “Did I call at a bad time, sir?”

Moffett barked cheerily at someone off screen and then looked back toward camera, “Oh no, we’re just tidying up things here at the moment. Quite a show, you should have been here. Twenty-four ship engagement.”

“Sir, Admiral Lusen wanted me to ask if you could join us over in the Nanga system. We’re expecting another strike from that mystery warship that bit us so badly.”

Moffett considered the offer while looking around his burning bridge.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you admiral. I’m sending you the coordinates.”

“Right ‘ol boy, we’ll see you there.”

“The Starstrikers were the first to really perfect the art of orbital insertion from a warp tunnel. But then again, when it came to flying, they were all insane. When they flew in formation they didn’t mind if some paint came off, if you know what I mean? But many of the techniques the Starstriker pilots perfected are now common among all star pilots, so you know, progress marches on and all. But we owe a lot to their bravery behind the controls, even long after the Great War was over.”

― Commander Buzz Blix, CSF Constellation, Combined Stellar Fleet

Taken from his personal Life Recorder.

Chapter 9

The trip through the warp tunnel to the Dezzen system did not take long. Ever since tunneling was perfected in the fourth century of the war, it shaved months off faster than light travel time. Short hops of less than ten light years could be made in just a few hours.

Nothing sharpened the sophistication of technology faster than the sword of war. What used to be a risky and dangerous proposition was now old hat. Bending the fabric of space-time to connect two distant points was long the dream of theoretical physics. When the technology finally did allow the impossible to happen, it was feared and ridiculed just as electricity, matter replication and faster than light travel had been in the past.

The mechanics of tunneling had been refined to an exacting science by the military. It was now possible to jump from one planetary orbit to another without incident. The crew of the Shrike was able to exit their tunnel into a dust storm within Dezzen’s atmosphere, completely undetected by the Votainion defense network. To further mask their arrival, they timed their descent to coincide with a local meteor shower, the details of which were provided by the Dezzian known as Garnot who led a network of occupation freedom fighters that were trying to get the Votainion slavers off their planet. Garnot cooperated with Starstriker representatives whenever he felt it was in his best interest. Starstriker Command knew when not to over extend their welcome and planned their missions without the possibility of direct help from Garnot.

The Shrike cut through the blowing sand buffeted by the gale force winds. It’s four occupants were jostled around in their seat straps feeling every sudden rise and drop in altitude. Kiloe had both hands on the control yoke fighting the descent all the way down. His eyes bounced from the terrain following instrument to the attitude read outs. He was viewing the actual surface for the first time as he steered clear of the wind carved rock obstacles.

A couple of close calls left new features on some of the rocks. The port nacelle became clogged with sand and shut itself down. Centar boosted reserve power to compensate. A few hair-raising moments later, Kiloe set the Shrike down in a narrow valley.

Shut down procedures quickly followed. They had to erase their electromagnetic signature before passing Votainion satellites could spot them. All power was reduced to life support only. In the dim red light, they moved into the airlock and began sealing their pressure suits. The two-person buddy system allowed them to check each other thoroughly to verify all connections. Within minutes they left the confines of the ship and ventured into the turbulent atmosphere of Dezzen.

The lower gravity that proved so desirable for constructing warships allowed them to travel with retro jet packs instead of on foot. The retro nozzles were modified to reduce their heat signatures. The pressure suits were battery powered and covered in Electro-Magnetic Signature absorbent material. The final effort made to remain undetected was the dull sand color of their camouflage. Only their movements might give them away, but they were choreographed to emulate flotsam blown about in the storm. No two individuals moved together while all four slowly drifted towards their destination.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at their target coordinates. Tamia was the first to spot the tubular outcroppings. Three organic cylinders of various diameters arose out of the smooth ground; their tops cut at opposing angles. The largest cylinder was just wide enough to allow them to enter it one at a time. Most of the shipyard was subterranean and these airlocks were positioned along tunnels to allow easy exit in case of a collapse.

Dekka took point, shining his helmet light into the dark cylinder. It extended deep under the ground and ended in a metallic hatch. He lowered himself down into the cylinder feet first. His gloved fingers found the controls to open the hatch and activated them. The hatch lifted itself up and flooded the cylinder with a yellow light. Tapping the down thruster, he lowered himself into the airlock and watched as the iris hatch closed above his head.

The airlock was a Dezzian design, which meant that all the controls were over sized and a foot higher than they would be on a human design. The airlock cycled automatically through the air exchange program and then the bottom hatch opened. Below was a dimly lit corridor complete with graviplates; to keep people on the ground and prevent them from flying around. Dekka took out his laser tube and tapped the down thrusters on his retro pack.

When his boots touched the metal grid floor, he switched off the retro pack. Motion detector warnings went off inside his helmet. He spun around quickly and was rushed by a seven-foot Dezzian guard.

The gray brute batted the laser tube from Dekka’s hands and pushed him forcefully against the wall. Dekka felt sluggish under the full weight of the retro pack, as he slid to the ground. Hovering over the human like a slow moving giant, the guard reached for a communicator on its utility belt. Dekka activated the spotlight on his helmet, temporarily blinding the sensitive yellow eyes of the Dezzian.

Tamia fell through the airlock behind the Dezzian and squeezed off several shots into its back. The snub-nosed Dezzian tightened in pain and fell forward to land beside Dekka.

Tamia glided down from the airlock, her weapon still drawn. Shutting off her retro pack she stepped past the fallen guard to help her partner out of his pack. In turn, he did the same for her. They both noticed the vaguely sulfur smell of the rock tunnel and wrinkled their noses. They were expecting it from the briefing, but until they actually experienced it, they didn’t realize how prevalent it would be.

After they were all inside and stripped of their packs, they huddled around Commander Havic.

“Nice work Tamia, way to cover your partner.”

Tamia nodded, “Take a look at him Kiloe, maybe you’ve played Sheck with him before.” Kiloe shrugged off the remark.

“Okay, we follow this tunnel until we get to the Design Tower lifts. Avoid any contact with Votainion personnel. That includes fire-fights,” he said to Kiloe.

“I haven’t shot anyone, yet,” Kiloe said.

Before they moved on, Kiloe and Dekka buried the Dezzian guard under a rockslide. It would take some time to dig him out before anyone discovered he was shot. Further down the earthen tunnel, bio scanners alerted the team to the presence of more Dezzians. Centar cautiously moved ahead of the group.

Three large shapes moved out of the dark corridor and stood before him. They were Dezzian guards, dressed in brown padded armor and carrying large barreled riffles. Centar kept his weapon lowered, his finger tightened ever so slightly around the trigger. Tamia and Kiloe moved to either side of their leader, their weapons squarely pointed at the outside guards.

Centar knew the guards were not Garnot. He could not forget that alien’s face from the Intel briefing, the narrow set black soul less eyes and his tiny, round mouth. Garnot was much smaller and his gray, wrinkled skin seemed to convey sinister intentions.

Dekka had his back to Centar, peering into the darkness from where they had come. He had a growing suspicion that the rock walls of the corridor were somehow not what they appeared to be. His bio scanner revealed nothing out of the ordinary it was more of a gut feeling.

“We want an audience with Garnot,” Centar stated in crude Dezzian. He watched the lead Dezzian for any sign of awareness. They remained motionless as rock.

There was no visible way to distinguish the Dez-Ne freedom fighters from the regular foot soldiers employed by the Votainions. Centar figured these were Dez-Ne, because they had not tried to attack like the one who had came after Dekka.

Dekka turned his head to the side so that Centar could hear his whisper, “I think our host is back here.”

Centar slowly traded positions with Dekka and stood facing behind the group staring into the empty corridor. A slightly shorter Dezzian wearing a dark green sash came forward into the light. It was Garnot. His gray, bony fingers were silently tapping at his side in nervous syncopation.

“What brings the Starstrikers to my subterranean world?” Garnot asked.

“We require safe passage to the design towers. We bring weapons for your followers.”

Tamia took her eyes off her target and moved to cover Centar. She didn’t remember bringing anything to barter with on this trip. She studied the short alien and quickly got an uneasy feeling.

“What good are hand weapons against the Blue skins? We need something substantial, like an invasion force,”

Garnot let out a wheezing laugh that echoed down the corridor. Centar knew this was a bad idea; he struggled to conceal his disgust.

“If you help us into the design towers, we will destroy this base and free your workers,” he spoke with convincing sincerity and the alien nodded in agreement.

“Just the four of you, going to take out this entire base are you?”

Centar nodded curtly. Garnot snorted and then turned his attentions to Tamia. She kept her weapon leveled at him as he moved in for a closer look at her. With his knurled left hand the alien pointed to the human female.

“I’ll take her, instead.”

Tamia smirked. The very idea was preposterous. She glanced at Centar who slowly nodded his head, “Deal.”

“Good, yes, very tasty treat,” Garnot said, pleased with his shrewd bargaining skills.

“What?” Tamia gasped, breaking out in a sweat at the mere thought of being traded.

Centar shook his head curtly at Tamia and moved aside so that Garnot could pass through them and join his hulking brethren. “Come, Starstrikers, we go to the design tower of your choice,” he continued to laugh in a very disturbing way. When Garnot was out of earshot, Centar explained.

“Security is too tight in these tunnels, we have to use him to get where we’re going. After that, all deals are off.”

Tamia understood him and relaxed a bit. She knew a human female was something of value to the Votainions, and that Garnot would no doubt try and use her to his advantage against the base commandant.

“I hope you’re right sir, I don’t trust this alien. His eyes are too close together.”

Her comment raised a curious eyebrow from Kiloe. He wanted to ask her why that feature in particular had caused her distrust, but saved it for later as they moved on down the dark corridor.

“Professor Millie Havic was a bit of a rebel in academia. Her refusal to wear tracking implants put her in considerable danger many times. She was never part of the au-natural movement that championed an existence without biomechanical devises, but she repeatedly refused access to modern technology that would augment her human abilities in any way. When pressed as to why, she claimed that she was just an old fashioned girl.”

― Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press.

Chapter 10

The sleek blue and white twin hulls of the Sealogger cut through the waves with ease as the large catamaran made lazy, wide turns on the open water. Her crew of university graduate students tended to the sails and peered out across the endless track of ocean.

Below deck, Millie was busy overseeing the monitoring of a family of sea sloth's that were slowly making their way south for the winter months. The students were involved in a lengthy study of one particular sea sloth family. They had followed the two adults; Grelia and Groby, from the time of their mating until the birth of their first offspring, named Grenn by the students. Tracking the family south for the winter involved keeping up with their migration swim and monitoring the aquatic mammal’s vital signs from just far enough away as to not be a nuisance.

Grelia and Groby were familiar with several of the students from their many swims together and were tolerant of the Sealogger hovering around them for weeks at a time. The sea sloths were lazy, friendly creatures that often adopted humans as easily as they did any regular undersea denizen. With few natural predators in the deep oceans of Selene, they often lived long and plentiful lives. Millie had been studying them since she was an undergraduate student. She found their gentle and playful disposition a pleasant diversion from the cutthroat world of humans and other space faring beings.

The Sealogger’s course south of the planet’s equator was intended to be a conclusive voyage for the graduate students aboard. A final fling in the sun and surf before they were expected to find real jobs in industry or leave for military service. Millie allowed them to slack off on their studies and relax a bit. She encouraged them to dress down and work on their tans when not manning a post. She knew that it was the last time they would have to enjoy their lives as students before beginning their lives as productive members of society. She also knew that more than half of them would find themselves in uniform and dying somewhere deep in space, far from their friends and family - a thought that depressed her at some point on every voyage.

On this sunny and warm afternoon she was to engrossed in watching the underwater monitors that displayed tracking shots of the sea sloth family plodding away about ten fathoms below, to worry about the future of her students.

“Teach, there’s an undersea vessel approaching from about fifty meters to our port,” Jacques stated as he lifted his head from the navigation screens. Jacques was a lean, astute looking man with a frayed mop of brown hair that he never combed.

“Hail them, and politely inform them to alter their course to avoid our family,” Millie said calmly, her blue eyes never leaving the monitors.

“I did. They haven’t responded or altered their course.”

This brought her gaze to Jacques who shrugged and studied his scope again. Millie pulled herself up and moved over to the tiny navigator’s seat. She opened a channel and spoke with authority to the approaching vessel, “This is the Marine Institute’s Sealogger calling, please heave to and identify yourself. Over?”

There was no answer from the mysterious submarine vessel as it continued on a collision course from below. “Change course to steer them away from the family,” Jacques relayed the order to the helmsman above and the catamaran slowly turned into the wind. After a few lingering moments, the intruding vessel altered its course to follow them. Jacques looked up at Millie, “I guess it’s us their after.” Millie agreed with his assessment.

She didn’t tolerate uninvited guests; especially ones that failed to follow open sea customs and courtesies.

“Tell whoever is on deck to get ready for visitors. I’ll instruct the camera drones to follow on without us. We’ll pick them up after I have a word with the Waterways authorities.” Jacques relayed her wishes to the crew as he watched the approaching vessel ascend to the surface beside them.

Millie came up on deck scanning the water where she expected the intruding vessel to surface. The wind blew her blond hair across her face and she pulled it out of her eyes. “What’s going on Millie?” Cill, her student aid asked. She was manning the wheel of the boat. Millie made her way into the pilot’s cubbyhole and looked up at the trim of the main sail.

“Keep her steady on this heading Cill, we have some uninvited guests from below.” Cill nodded, as she kept her brown eyes on both the compass and the wind direction. Millie turned to look back to port when the vessel broke the surface.

What appeared at first to be a large whale blew into the air and slammed down on the waves beside the Sealogger, sending ocean spray over the top deck of the tiny catamaran. Millie wiped salt water from her eyes as she stood up. Cill maintained a tight grip on the boat’s wheel as she flung her soaked hair from side to side. Luckily the equatorial waters were still warm enough to make such dowsing tolerable if not downright enjoyable in the late afternoon heat.

Millie was anything but joyful about the interruption and the soaking. She hopped up to the top deck and held onto a railing while she waited for the captain of the strange vessel to show himself.

The bow of the vessel was shaped like a boat with wide sweeping curves that turned straighter as they swept aft. It was colored a motley patchwork of sea greens and deep blues. But as she watched, the colors blended into an off-white and light gray like a giant sea going chameleon. She could see what looked like a pilothouse window on top of the forward deck. The dark glass reflected the blue surf and a wavy image of the Sealogger. There were instrument packages nestled along the side of the vessel. Some were covered and others were exposed to the elements.

A hatch opened on the top and a lithe young woman emerged carrying a rope. When she turned to face Millie, her elfin face broke into a generous smile, “Ahoy there, Sealogger!”

Millie put her hand up to her forehead to shade her eyes as she stepped onto the starboard hull. The voice sounded familiar but she couldn’t quite place it with the errant actions of the vessel foremost on her mind.

“Don’t you recognize me Teach?”

The image and the nickname came together with sudden clarity - Erin Kent. She was a former student and a known troublemaker. Millie always knew that some of her students were a bit too radical when it came to certain subjects that she taught. Erin was her most vociferous supporter of environmental issues. Her master’s thesis involved her getting the planetary council to support a ban on toxic reclamation in areas known to harbor a rare species of bird that reacted unfavorably to the noise created by the automated reclamation plants. Millie thought Erin was one of her brightest and most gifted students despite her narrow-minded concern for the survival of any living creature threatened with extinction. She hadn’t heard from her in several years until now.

Erin tossed her rope to Millie and they moored the two vessels together to keep them steady. Millie stepped over to the top deck of Erin’s vessel and the two hugged.

“Are you having trouble with your communications gear? We were following a family of sea sloths and tried to get you to steer clear of them.”

Erin’s face showed little concern for her actions, “Final cruise time, huh?”

Millie nodded.

“I’m sorry if my intrusion caused your studies to be interrupted, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. Would you mind coming inside where we can talk?” Erin’s expression had turned serious.

Millie turned around and called out to Cill, “I’m going aboard for a few minutes, let me know if we drift out of range of the trackers.” Cill nodded and began trimming the boat to accommodate a lengthy stay.

Erin led Millie into her vessel through the same top hatch she had emerged from. Inside, Millie could tell that the vessel was way beyond the means of her former student. She must have finagled it from someone, or stolen it. Neither of which was beyond her.

She followed Erin forward to the ship’s spacious and cold, cabin. There was a peculiar aroma about the vessel, as if it were fresh out of the factory. Millie folded her arms about her chest and noticed several panels and chairs were still covered in protective wrapping embossed with the logo, “Geostar - Gunnel Transport”; which was odd, because Gunnel was more of a land and space designer, then an aquatic vessel designer. The ship was definitely new, which all but convinced Millie that her former student had stolen it.

Erin pulled off the cover to a chair and motioned for Millie to take the seat. Millie sat, looking around the compartment with disappointment clearly etched on her face. Erin sat across from her and paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. Millie used the time to study her former student.

Erin was wearing her hair longer then she had when she was a student, it was cut in a slant bob. The angle of the cut accented her cheekbones. Her hair was still a straight, brown color, and her eyes a shade darker. The freckles on her face were still visible against her pale white skin. She wore an over sized, faded blue sweatshirt and white leggings with calf length boots, a marked contrast to Millie’s white two-piece swimsuit and light cover-up. It was always cold in the hull of submarine vessels and space ships and Millie was still chilled from having come in out of the tropical heat.

Erin began with a deep breath and then started gushing, “Millie, I’ve come to seek your help. I’ve tried to get the help of others, but they all know what a radical I am and refuse to lend me any support. You’re my last resort. Time is running out and we must act now before it’s too late.”

Millie put up her hand to stop Erin, “Slow down a minute. What is it that you want me to help you do?”

“Save an entire planet’s ecosystem from certain doom.”

Millie looked askance at Erin; she had a way with making the most trivial biological processes sound worse than they actually were. “What planet are we talking about here?”

“It’s in the Life Belt, zero fifty two on the star charts.”

Millie racked her brain for a few seconds, trying to recall basic astronomy classes from her secondary education. Astronavigation was definitely not her forte. Erin brought up a star chart on the panel display between them. The planets of the Life Belt lay strewn about the central spoke of matter that extended outward from the pinwheel of the galaxy. She pointed to the planet in question, which had no name, only a number. It was closer to the Neutral Zone than any of the other known planets and that alone-disturbed Millie. The military was very particular about who was allowed into and out of the controlled space in that region. Civilian traffic was limited and always endured military escorts.

“How do you expect to get there without a military escort? That area is heavily patrolled for good reason. It’s practically on the border with the Votainion Empire.”

Erin smiled confidently, “Not a problem. The Gunnel Corporation has given us the proper coded clearances to avoid any military questioning. This ship is one of their latest prototypes, they were practically begging for someone to field test it in hostile territory.”

Millie shuffled her bare feet on the cold deck plating of Erin’s ship, “Where’s your service representative from the company?”

Erin looked away, changing the display; “We’re picking him up at Tulia, on the way there.”

Millie knew Erin was not telling the truth. No company in their right mind would turn over their latest design to an adventurer like Erin Kent. She must have pulled some strings with an inside source to acquire such a valuable prize. A little voice in the back of Millie’s mind whispered a note of caution.

Erin noticed the goose bumps on Millie’s arms and got up to fetch a jacket for her. “Let me get you something to put on, it’s quite cold in this tub,” she said.

Millie looked around at the dark interior of the ship as she waited for Erin to return. In the shadows facing aft, she noticed someone standing perfectly still, watching her. Its sudden presence startled her. Erin returned with a worn gray jacket and offered it to her guest. She noticed Millie’s concern for who was lingering in the shadows watching them.

“Don’t be alarmed, that’s Tome, he’s a native from zero fifty two. His people sent him on a journey to save his planet,” she moved in closer and lowered her voice.

“He’s never been off-world before. Humans tend to alarm them.”

Millie squinted into the darkness, trying to get a better picture of the mysterious figure. Tome was tall, over two meters, and his head had a distinct sideways oval shape. “Tell him to come out of the shadows, I want to meet him.”

Erin motioned for Tome to come over to them. The robed figure hesitated for a moment and then came forward on the slightly pitching deck. The alien had two rounded mandibles that extended from opposite sides of its mouth. Black beady eyes looked out from wrinkled skin that passed as eyebrows. The muddy brown color of his dimpled skin blended with the dark brown woven robes he wore. Two flexible antennae moved independently of each other from the top of his oval head.

“Millie Havic, meet Tome Tremier. Tome is both an emissary and a biologist, of sorts. His people are still considered a class one civilization, fourth world, but Tome here is a bit ahead of his time when it comes to understanding fragile ecosystems. I met him in a way station on Kew.”

Tome bowed his oval head slightly, “Honored, Professor Havic. Pleased am I that you have joined us on our quest.” His voice emanated from a universal translator that he wore on a leather necklace. The mechanical tone typical in translators lent an eerie sound to the alien's voice.

Millie smiled politely. She had not yet decided to join them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Tremier. But I’m afraid I won’t be joining you today,” she looked at Erin, “I wish you both success in your journey but I really must return to my students.”

Millie stood up and removed the jacket Erin had given her. Erin took the jacket and bowed her head. Tome moved to stand before Millie and removed a laser tube from under his robes. He pointed the cold black metal barrel at her waist. Millie froze. She had never been held at gunpoint before and it alarmed her.

“Forgive my insistence, professor. You will be coming with us today. You see, I have but one chance to save my people from certain extinction and you are that chance.”

Millie looked icily at Erin who shrugged, “He’s certainly got passion, doesn’t he?”

“Are you being coerced by force too?” Millie asked her former student.

Erin shook her head, “We don’t have much time, Teach. If we leave now, we’ll barely have enough time to study the situation before it becomes terminal. The nearest solution I could find was viral in nature. If what I suspect is true, it could only be a matter of days, before the infection has spread to the entire planetary population.”

“Just what do you think I can help you do anyway? What you’re describing would take a fully trained and equipped staff months to isolate and correct.”

Erin handed Millie back the jacket and took her by the arm to the front of the ship. Tremier stayed behind them, with the laser tube lowered out of respect. “This ship is fully equipped with every instrument we will ever need. Between the two of us, we should be able to isolate the virus and offer them an antidote. It won’t solve their problem, but it will prevent them from dying off. I couldn’t live with myself if I stood by and let an entire sentient race disappear, and I don’t think you could either,” Erin finished.

She had a point. Millie was bound by her professional ethics to help, much less by her own conscience. Still, the idea of being kidnapped left a bad taste in her mouth.

Millie’s communicator beeped from the waist clip on her bikini. Erin snatched it away from her and held it up, “Not a word of this to anyone, understand?”

Tremier had leveled his laser tube at her again. Millie nodded and took the communicator from Erin. “This is Millie, what’s going on guys?”

Cill answered with a worried sound to her normally chipper voice. “The Coastal Patrol is closing in on our position; they’re after the ship you’re on. Are you in any danger professor?”

Millie hesitated for a moment before answering. She knew Erin was familiar with the standard duress words used by the Academy. “I’m just fine, Cill. Tell the Coastal Patrol that this ship is on a mercy mission from another world and that we are leaving Selenian airspace momentarily,” Erin nodded in approval as Millie continued.

“You guys wrap it up and head back to Port Domio. Tell the Academy that I’m taking an unexpected leave of absence. I’ll explain everything when I return. There’s no need to worry, I’m okay.”

There was silence from the Sealogger as Cill and the other students digested what their teacher had said to them. Erin eyed Millie closely. Her last sentence sounded suspicious, as if it were a duress phrase. Whenever a student or teacher was in danger they used a prescribed word to alert officials that they were in trouble. It was possible the phrase had changed since Erin had been a student.

“I hope for your sake that was not a duress word. Sit down and strap in, we’re taking off,” Erin said as she slipped into the pilot seat of the ship. Millie sat down in the copilot seat and tried to visually scan the area for incoming Coastal Patrol ships. The Geostar had great visibility out its slanted forward windscreens. She saw no signs of any approaching vessels.

Erin began running up the starship’s main drive and securing its systems for launch. Tome Tremier sat behind them, his grayish face looking a bit long. He wasn’t accustomed to flying much less space travel.

The Geostar began moving away from the catamaran as the water under both vessels began to stir. Cill had cast off and was trimming the Sealogger’s sails to catch the light southern trade winds. She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the Geostar rise out of the ocean and quickly accelerate into the clear blue sky. The sudden breeze created by the starship gave the Sealogger an extra boost along its way.

“Every planet under Votainion control had a resistance movement among the natives. The Starstrikers worked with many of these groups to ensure leverage against the Votainion security forces. More often than not, they were no better than those who held power over them.”

― Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press.

Chapter 11

Six crimson Koteli class warships moved into orbit around the sand colored planet Dezzen. Smaller by far than the average Alliance starship, the Koteli were fast-attack, “C” Class hulls. Designed to swarm around enemy fleets and randomly charge them like hungry savanna predators.

A dingy black command shuttle disengaged from the clutches of the lead warship and fell into the swirling sulfur clouds below. Shaped like the Votainion Empire’s upside down “A” symbol, the shuttle slipped through the stormy planetary atmosphere. As it neared the outskirts of Con-One, the principal construction yard, the shuttle picked up an escort of three diamond headed interceptors.

Spread out over one fourth of the tiny planet’s surface was the expansive shipyard of Con-One. Giant rib shaped platforms held the unfinished hulls of twenty warships. Everything from fast corvettes to heavy destroyers was assembled there from the ground up. The shipyard was a flurry of activity with most of the yard dedicated to the completion of two more Eclipse class warships. The Vicor still lacked its outboard impulse drives while the Toric hovered over its dock nearly completed. Both black warships were so large they appeared to be built to a different scale than the other warships that lay unfinished and neglected around them.

Triangular shaped work trams wove their way through the construction grids around the shipyard. Supply ships landed, their hulls filled with raw metals and refined materials. Thousands of Dezzian slaves were working around the clock in a last ditch effort to complete their master’s precious black warships.

The entire population of the planet was forced into work camps to mine the materials for and to help build the Votainion warships. So many Dezzians were succumbing to exhaustion and stress that workers from neighboring systems were being brought in to help. All the resources of the Krugger Kastra were fully invested in the Con-One shipyard.

The command shuttle docked to one of the cylindrical Design Towers that overlooked the shipyard. Lord Krugger strode out of the airlock and into the reception area. Two rows of viper guards flanked the entrance, their burnt orange and black armor polished to high gloss. Several top ranking Votainion officers and their aids stood off to the side.

The commandant of the shipyard stepped forward and bowed with his salute. Krugger did not return the gesture. “I have no time for ceremony Commandant Karlac. Is the Toric ready for a trial run?”

Karlac avoided Krugger’s black eyes, “My lord, we’ve been having supply problems. The other Kastrum are not cooperating as you said they would. Not all the decks are pressurized. The sub light drive is not completely on line yet, nor is the guidance system. If we had just a few more weeks.”

“You don’t have a few weeks!” Krugger shouted, his voice booming off the walls. “You have twenty four hours, commandant. Do you understand?” Karlac nodded, his eyes lowered.

“If that warship isn’t space-borne by then, I’ll have all your necks. Do I make myself clear?”

All the attendant officers replied in unison, “Yes, my lord.”

Krugger stormed past them, with Karlac breaking ranks to follow him.

“We will inspect the warships at noon. I expect the guidance system to be installed by then. We shall launch the Toric by dawn.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Krugger waved him off as he passed into the circular hall that led to the staterooms, “I’ll be in my quarters.”

Karlac watched Krugger storm into the stateroom and waited as the door slid shut. Then he took out his personal transceiver and opened a channel to his security Chief.

“This is Karlac, get me Garnot.”

The closer they came to the shipyard, the more difficult it became to elude discovery. The layout of the subterranean tunnels had changed little from their known intelligence reports provided by the Dez-Ne. Following Garnot’s guards, they took the least traveled path to avoid detection. Traffic in the maintenance sections was twice what they expected. They saw two or three different races working where normally there would only be Dezzians. All indications pointed to a hurried effort to finish whatever was being built. Lapses in security were most surprising to the covert strike team members. It was almost as if completion of the project took paramount concern over operational security.

Garnot held back in order to speak with Centar. The Dezzian’s gray skin was taught around his narrow set black eyes and bony jaw line. He walked with a bird-like gate due to double-jointed legs.

“You see all the foreign workers; the blue skins are obsessed about completing these new warships. Security has been increasingly delegated down to my forces. We can get you as far as the inner circle, after that, you are in Deznia’s hands.”

Centar noted the alien’s reference to their god, Deznia. The Dezzians were known as the followers of Deznia and the Dez-Ne warriors were protectors of the sacred shrine of Deznia. It was their belief that Deznia would work through her protectors to liberate her people from the tyranny of the Votainion Empire.

“You are a credit to your people, Garnot,” Centar complimented him.

The alien bent and nodded his head in a human gesture of modesty. He snapped his head up as his guards alerted him to the presence of a Votainion security patrol. Passing Centar and the others, Garnot conferred with his guards and then directed the Starstrikers into a passage that lead to a supply room.

Large storage bins with mechanical lifts lined the walls of the room. Garnot herded the Starstrikers into the empty room and pointed to the nearest open storage bin.

“Please, the Viper patrols are alerted to your presence. They never check these storage rooms for intruders. You are safe here until they have passed.”

Dekka moved into the empty bin and scanned it with his biocorder. Kiloe and Tamia circled the large room doing the same.

“I’m not liking this,” Kiloe said as he charged his Mark Line Piercer laser tube.

“You’re not alone,” Tamia echoed, doing the same.

Centar noticed the increased nervousness of his hosts, but felt they were over-reacting to a small, two-element Viper patrol. It was clear the Dez-Ne regarded their captors with great respect, if not outright fear. Centar resorted to a professional, calm voice and tried to relieve the alien’s concern.

“We are not hiding in here; we have a mission to accomplish. The less time we are here the better. Show us the route to the inner circle or stay out of our way, understood Garnot?”

The alien eyed Centar a bit suspiciously and then nodded his head in consent. He motioned to his two lingering guards and they all exited the storage room. Dekka came to Centar’s side, “Something tells me they wanted us in here for a reason.”

Centar charged his rifle and stepped towards the door through which the Dezzians had exited. Kiloe and Tamia had assumed support positions behind him and Dekka. Centar slapped the door release plate. The door remained shut.

“Okay, let’s blow it,” Centar said, stepping back and letting Tamia move in with her larger caliber laser rifle. She drew a bead and targeted on the release plate and squeezed off a shot. The wall release exploded sending sparks showering down like rain, yet the door remained closed. Tamia turned away to look at Centar as the door exploded sending all four Starstrikers backwards from the concussion of the explosion.

Red flashes from Votainion disrupters burst from the smoke filled doorway as two orange and black striped Viper troopers burst into the room firing blindly. Centar spun and shot several times into the weaker points of the first trooper’s armor plating. The trooper went down on top of Tamia. She rolled around under the dead weight of the trooper and fired the killing shot into the next trooper who came in through the smoking remains of the door.

Dekka and Kiloe returned fire and then charged through the door taking the offensive. In seconds, Tamia and Centar followed them. Out in the corridor, there were several more Viper troops and Dezzian guards all firing at the intruders as they backed away around a bend. Centar’s suspicions about Garnot and his men had been confirmed. They had been set up.

Garnot spoke quickly into his transceiver as he fled the firefight raging behind him. “The human spies are breaking free of our control. Request assistance on the lower levels.”

Karlac’s weak voice was tiny coming from the cheap speaker.

“There will be no further assistance. I can’t raise the suspicions of my superiors, understood Garnot?”

Garnot winced, as the battle raging behind him drew closer. “This ends our relationship commandant; you can no longer count on my assistance.”

“So be it,” was the Votainion’s reply.

At that moment, Garnot’s personal guards surrounded him as the Starstrikers broke free of the running fight and closed in on them. Garnot’s dark eyes widened, as the image of Centar Havic loomed large, his rifle flashing white bursts of death. A few moments later the corridor was silent and three dead Dezzians lay flat on the dirt floor, surrounded by wisps of smoke from their charred bodies.

“Strike teams develop a closeness that far exceeds that which ordinary soldiers encounter on a battlefield. Probably due to the fact that they purposefully get themselves into far more danger and have to either think or fight their way out of every jam. Not everyone has the metal to be a Starstriker. But then again, we can’t all be perfect, now can we?”

― Admiral Jake Lusen, Starstriker Command.

Taken from his autobiography, Way of a Fighter.

Chapter 12

Centar was on point when they came upon the first lift tube leading to the Design Towers. At the lowest level there were few Votainions present. An occasional group of worn out Dezzian Foreman emptied out of the lifts and headed deeper into the center of the yard.

Centar waited until the area was clear and then moved to the lift door. He took out a small device and placed it over the access panel. Within seconds a lift was descending to their level. The others trained their weapons on the door as it slid open. Three startled Votainion officers recognized them instantly and froze.

“I believe we’re out ranked, people,” Centar commented.

“Must be a hell of a party upstairs,” Kiloe said.

“Shoot them,” Centar said, lowering his weapon. “Tamia, the leader’s yours.”

Captain Krees couldn’t understand what the enemy spies were saying but he knew that his life was over. He would never get to lead the Toric into glorious battle. His aides tried to shield him as the humans opened fire. Both of them fell at his feet, loyal to the end. The human female leveled her weapon at him. The ultimate insult to a Votainion was to die at the hands of an enemy female since working females were the lowest ranking members in Votainion society. She stepped forward and blasted him in the stomach. Krees felt the sharp pain in his chest and slumped to the floor. His dreams ended in the worst way possible for a noble Votainion warrior.

Tamia stepped aside as Dekka and Kiloe dragged the bodies out of the lift. She looked at Centar with satisfaction. Centar grinned back at her, happy to oblige. They buried the bodies under a collapsed wall of rock and dirt just as they had done with the Dezzian guard. There were many collapsed piles of rock along the earthen tunnels caused by weakened supports. Nobody would suspect anything unless they were looking on purpose. As they entered the lift, Dekka motioned back to the pile of dirt.

“That was a warship captain. He’s going to be missed.”

“Good. We’ll be gone by then,” Centar said.

The lift doors opened onto the twenty-first level of the Design Tower Five. Dekka and Tamia poked their heads out with weapons drawn. The corridor was empty. Moving swiftly and covering each other they exited the lift and posted a watch at the circular main hall. There was still no traffic. One side of the hall was all windows looking out over the shipyard.

Skeleton grids where the hulking black warships were built were alive with a flurry of activity. The massive black carcass of the Toric extended into the haze of the horizon. Dekka noticed and pointed it out to Tamia. She glanced at it and returned to watching the hall.

Centar and Kiloe moved past into the hall, their movements practiced and alert. Centar stopped before the entrance to a file storage room. He placed his electronic lock picker on the control panel and in seconds the door slid open. Covering Centar, Kiloe followed him into the small, rectangular room. Centar took out a data scanner and secured it to the rack of files that ran along the walls of the room. Its program scanned the entire storage rack for data on anything new to the Votainion fleet. The process did not happen instantly. After negotiating through the cursory security programs, (which were designed mainly to keep out unauthorized Votainions) the scanner program set about its business.

Millions of bits of data were sorted and sifted in the blink of an eye. When the program found what it was looking for, it took a few minutes to download it into the memory packs inside the Starstriker agent’s suits. Each agent carried enough data cores to build several warships. Kiloe plugged into the other side of the room and began his download. Both of them kept an eye and a weapon on the entrance.

Dekka and Tamia headed off in the opposite direction and broke their way into another room. Again, there was no resistance. Both of them plugged in and waited

Centar and Kiloe moved into separate rooms in a planned effort to speed up the search and cover more ground in the process. The lack of security on their level was becoming an alarming concern for Centar. He figured it had to do with the activity surrounding the two black behemoths. If Lord Krugger had resorted to bringing in more workers from neighboring systems, he probably had more important things on his mind, like finishing his latest warship designs. Centar tried not to think what damage three of the mystery ships could wreak, given what just one ship did in a few short minutes.

Dekka and Tamia finished their first sweep and moved onto separate rooms further down the hall. Stepping inside the room, Tamia startled an officer, viewing a file on a wall size display. He was unarmed and surprised to see her. She froze for a moment and then shot him with her laser tube after he smirked at her. She hated when the blue-skin bastards did that. She kept a wary eye on the dead Votainion as she plugged in and waited.

Before she could get to the second rack, the door slid open and two more officers came inside. They caught her off guard and quickly overpowered her, gibbering something about prey in the hunter’s den. Their black goatees and pale blue color made her skin crawl. She tried to break their hold on her and was rewarded with a right cross and a jab to the kidney. She tasted blood in her mouth as they pulled her up. The lead officer was yelling at her, his spittle spraying her face.

She understood enough of the Votainion tongue to realize that they were more interested in messing with her than reporting her intrusion. The one holding her knew what he was doing; she couldn’t move hardly a muscle. The angry one stopped spewing vulgarities at her and drew his falchion. Where the hell was Dekka, she thought.

In the main hall, Dekka stopped before the room Tamia was in. Should he check up on her? No, he had to show that he trusted her abilities. Moving on, he ducked into the next room.

Commandant Karlac was in security control when the alarm was sounded. A couple of architects in Design Tower Four had found and subdued a human intruder. This was all I need right now, Karlac thought. Fearing a confrontation with Lord Krugger, Karlac ordered a full intrusion alert. Where there was one human, there were probably more. All security was tightened and extra guards were ordered into the Design Towers.

There was nothing else he could do, so Karlac started to leave. He no more than turned away from the status boards when another report came in, this one from the lower levels. A Dezzian guard had failed to return from his rounds and was found buried under dirt near an access node. A further investigation of the area turned up four buried retro packs. Now we’re getting somewhere, Karlac thought. He ordered a search sweep starting from the node and terminating at Design Tower Four. With any luck, he would have this mess cleaned up before Krugger found out about it.

Centar heard the alarms sounding and knew they were in trouble. He didn’t wait to finish his down load. Disconnecting his data probe, he exited the map room. Outside, in the curving hallway he met up with Kiloe.

“It wasn’t me,” Kiloe said.

“They may have found our dirty trail by now. Let’s get out while we still can.”

“Too late,” Kiloe said as several armed guards rounded the hallway before them.

Both Starstrikers opened fire, taking out two guards before they could raise their disrupters. Centar and Kiloe bolted in the other direction shouting behind them on the run. “Dek, we’re taking fire. Copy?”

Dekka was out in the hallway and heard the fire fight heading his way. “Copy, Commander. Tamia, get out here. We’re taking fire.”

Tamia didn’t hear her partner’s plea for help. She was fighting her own battle to stay conscious through her beating. The Architects had cut off all the mem packs from her suit. They were arguing amongst themselves again, probably debating who would get to rape her. She could hear their voices but she lost her ability to follow what they were saying. The pain from the many cuts on her body was excruciating.

Centar and Kiloe arrived to help Dekka. They blasted the lift door so that more guards couldn’t enter their level.

“Where’s Tamia?“ Centar asked.

“I don’t know. She must still be in one of the map rooms. She hasn’t answered any of my calls.”

“Maybe she’s been captured,” Kiloe said, as he headed for the nearest map room.

The others covered him as he burst into the first room - nothing. They tried the next room.

The Architects were about to finish Tamia off. They had beaten her senseless with the butts of their falchions. Kiloe came through the door and grabbed the lead Architect’s knife hand. He twisted the arm back until it snapped. Dekka shot the second Architect in the head leaving a smoking hole where his brain used to be. The dead Votainion relaxed his grip on Tamia and fell to the floor. Centar and Dekka grabbed her before she fell on top of her attacker.

Kiloe took one look at Tamia’s beaten form and went off on the remaining Architect. Using both ends of the falchion, he quickly dispatched the Architect.

Dekka started emergency medical procedures on his fallen student. She was alive, barely, but she was in need of more medical attention than they could give her on the spot.

“We have to get her into the medical lab, ASAP,” Dekka said while he worked.

“She’s your charge Dek,” Centar said.

Dekka gathered her up in his powerful arms. Kiloe finished off the Architect and kept the falchion. They exited the map room and shot their way to the docking port. Fortunately, there was an empty work tram attached.

“Can you fly that thing?” Centar asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

Kiloe responded with confidence, “If it can fly, I can fly it.”

“Okay, Killer. Get us out of here.”

Kiloe opened the airlock and crawled into the four-person tram. Centar opened a panel on the wall and cut a few lines. White smoke steamed out into the airlock reception area, providing them with cover. Dekka pulled Tamia through the airlock and into the cramped cab of the air tram.

Another security squad arrived, sending a hail of red disrupter fire in their direction. Centar returned fire using both his and Dekka’s laser tubes. Red and blue laser beams crossed the smoke filled room. He backed his way into the airlock, closing the hatch in front of him. As he crawled into the tram, he noticed a hit to his right calf. The wound was superficial but it hurt like hell.

The air tram was taking hits before Kiloe disengaged from the tower. They slowly sank in the light gravity, until he tried the correct lever for adjusting altitude.

“No wonder these guys can’t shoot straight, their too busy trying to keep from crashing.” Kiloe said matter-of-factly as he tested a different lever.

“Just put it on auto or something. Make it quick, I expect the entire base is looking for us now.” Centar said, watching the red disrupter beams impact his side of the tiny air tram.

“No, I’ve got it,” Kiloe said.

Centar gave himself an injection for the pain while he held on for the wild ride. The tiny tram bobbed and weaved in exaggerated movements while it’s pilot learned to control it on the fly.

Dekka was holding Tamia tightly in the back seat. “Smooth it out Kiloe, she can’t take this and neither can I,” he grumbled.

“I think I got it now, which way to the Shrike?”

Centar consulted the direction finder on the sleeve of his tract suit. The Shrike had moved from where they landed in an effort to avoid detection. The ship sent its coordinates to him along with message flashes on its condition.

“She’s evading detection. That way,” he pointed, for Kiloe’s benefit. Kiloe jammed the throttle lever forward and the air tram jetted away in the general direction Centar had indicated.

“The weapon of choice for the Votainion warrior has always been the falchion. The blades defined who the warrior was, what house he lived under and what his position in life was. There were specific blades for every profession in the Empire. You were simply not Votainion unless you had your blade. Some blades were thousands of years old, passed down from a long lineage of warriors. To lose one’s blade was considered such a social disgrace, that it usually resulted in suicide.”

― Commander Karune, CSF Krestar, Combined Stellar Fleet

Taken from his manual on Votainion customs, Understanding the Empire.

Chapter 13

Commandant Karlac was still in security control following the progress of his search parties. They had tracked the intruders to a work tram and were deploying gunships to take it down. The dark control room was flooded with light as Lord Krugger entered unannounced. Karlac came to attention.

“What is going on out there? Your people are shooting too close to my warships!”

“My Lord, there has been a security lapse. I have reports of an enemy spy team within the yard perimeter. We are attempting to eradicate them now.”

Krugger looked at the main viewer. It graphically showed the confusion around the shipyard. One small air tram had the entire yard chasing it around like flies on dung. The tiny tram was mocking the pitiful shipyard defenses as it flitted in between the unfinished warships.

“Your people are pathetic, Commandant,” Krugger spat in disgust. He lifted his right arm and spoke into the comlink to his personal warship in orbit. “This is Krugger. Send down a squad of my Viper soldiers. Secure this base and bring me the heads of the enemy intruders!”

He turned to Karlac, “Commandant, get me to the bridge of the Toric. If anything happens to that ship, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Krugger looked around at the other officers present. His black eyes narrowed as if he were searching to destroy. “Where is the chief of security?”

One man stepped forward. Krugger was on him in a heartbeat, his face centimeters from the chief’s. Krugger unsheathed the man’s falchion and brought it up between their eyes. Black eyes never wavered as the blade was swept in front of them. The chief of security was confused, and alarmed. There was nothing his people could have done to prevent a breach in security. Most of them were watching over the aliens brought in to work on the damn warships.

“Your blade is dirty, you have disgraced your Kastra.”

The chief’s eyes lowered. No one disgraced his Kastra. It was the greatest offensive act for which a Votainion soldier could be accused. Krugger brought the falchion back and in one fluid swing, broke the offending blade over his knee letting the pieces fall to the floor at the feet of the chief. The man would never be allowed to serve the Emperor again. He would be stripped of his rank and removed to the lower castes of Votainion society.

Krugger turned to the astonished security officers with an indifferent air, as if nothing had happened, “You people are relieved of duty. Concentrate your efforts on finishing my warships. Leave security to my Viper squad.”

Krugger stormed out of the room with Karlac hard on his heels.

Centar clutched the handrail with white knuckles as Kiloe swerved to avoid another construction crane. The sandy skies were full of aircraft chasing or avoiding the renegade air tram. Kiloe stuck to the sides of the two black Eclipse class warships, where he could do the most damage from missed security shots. The expansive flat sides of the Toric seemed to swallow up the tiny air tram. Kiloe nudged under an overhang, allowing Centar to notice their pursuers breaking off the chase. Only clear skies remained where they were heading.

“They’ve broken off,” he said, while motioning with his newly freed hand.

“I don’t like it. It’s too easy,” Kiloe muttered.

Centar checked the status of the Shrike. It was still moving towards them but was no longer under attack. “They’ve lost interest in the Shrike,” He said, his voice trailing off as he read the tiny display on his forearm.

Kiloe, sensing something was wrong, turned to look at him. “What?”

“It’s taken a beating. The tunnel drive is out.”

“Damn,” Kiloe said.

“What about life support?” Dekka asked from the back seat.

“Hull integrity nominal. She took a direct hit to the port nacelle. Thrusters and weapons not affected.”

Dekka wiped the blood from Tamia’s face, “We’ve got to get Tamia isolated. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Centar closed his eyes to concentrate on his thoughts. Why had the base security broken off their pursuit? There had to be a logical reason. Maybe they knew how hard the Shrike was hit. Did they think they had contained them by knocking out the tunnel drive? With several heavy cruisers in orbit, they probably figured the intruders were no longer much of a concern. If that were the case, they were in for a big surprise.

Centar leaned over his seat back to speak to his friend.

“Dekka, I need you to trouble shoot the tunnel drive. I’ll put her in stasis until we can get out of here.”

Dekka’s brown eyes were full of concern for his fallen student. He slowly nodded his agreement. Centar turned around to face Kiloe.

“When we get aboard the Shrike, I want you to head back and attack the ship yard. Full power to shields and weapons.” Kiloe noted the look in Centar’s blue-gray eyes. He hadn’t seen that look since Sloan had died on their last mission. It was the icy blue look of revenge. Kiloe fire walled the throttles and the tiny air tram strained forward at full speed.

Dekka held Tamia tightly in his arms as Kiloe maneuvered the air tram into docking position with the Shrike. He was already going over the design specs of the port nacelle in his head. He had practically helped them design the sleek starship, and was familiar with every subsystem onboard. Hopefully the damage wasn’t severe enough to strand them here. He knew Admiral Lusen wouldn’t risk getting them out. The only way that the mission could be a success now is if they were somehow able to transmit the data they stole to a listening post on the Neutral Zone, a risky move from this far inside enemy space.

Tamia stirred on top of his lap. The painkillers he had administered her were beginning to wear off. He tenderly caressed her bruised cheek. Her right eye was pinched shut from the swelling. She tried to utter something, but he whispered for her to be quiet, that everything would soon be all right. He would see to that, no matter what. He just couldn’t live with another team member’s death. Not now, not like this. Just the sight of her bruised and broken body made him want to scream.

Centar helped him move her from the airlock tube to the ship’s infirmary. They gently sat her down on the padded exam table. Centar took over from there, urging his friend to get on with fixing the tunnel drive. “I’ll take good care of her, just get us off this rock, okay?”

Absolute resolution flashed in Dekka’s eyes before he turned to leave. Centar began cutting off what was left of Tamia’s pressure suit and hooked her into the life support unit. He had to get her stable before she could be put into stasis. The med unit talked him through which injuries to treat first. It’s powerful imagery scanning her for injuries. After a few tense minutes, he was able to step back and close her off. She was young and in perfect health. She would make an excellent recovery.

Images of Sloan flashed in Centar’s mind like a waking nightmare. He was unable to do a thing to help the man as Sloan died in his arms. Sloan had fought off countless waves of enemy advances with just a laser cannon. He had had fought his way back to the Shrike and bought the team the added few minutes they needed to get out of danger. The mission had been deemed a success, despite the loss of one valiant warrior.

Centar Havic hadn’t been able to come to terms with Sloan’s death. Standing there looking at Tamia, he found himself freely shedding tears not for her but for Sloan. “Commander, I think you better get up here,” Kiloe said through the ship’s intercom.

Centar finished cleaning up Tamia’s wounds and activated the stasis field. She looked frail and helpless lying naked and broken. The stasis field would protect her if the ship’s hull sustained a breach. He checked the medical unit again, until he was confident that she would be all right. Wiping the tearstains from his cheek, he turned and headed for the bridge.

“We’ve got Viper Interceptors incoming from orbit. All weapons and shields are on line,” Kiloe reported, as Centar took his seat and strapped in.

“What about the tunnel drive?”

Kiloe’s expression was grim. Centar scanned the instrument panel, still no tunnel drive. The tactical display lit up the front screen. Six Interceptors were spreading out in a classic Votainion entrapment formation. The deadly diamond headed ships were about the same size as the Shrike, but had the advantage of speed and altitude. The only thing the Starstrikers had in their favor was guile.

“Let’s see what kind of damage we can do and buy Dek some time.”

“Now you’re talking, boss,” Kiloe’s adrenaline was pumping; he was ready for a fight. This was what he wanted to do after Sloan was killed. It was time for a little delayed gratification.

The fire control graphics lit up the forward view screen in amber and red. Centar ignored the descending Interceptors and concentrated on the black warships now looming before them. The shipyard air defenses were intended to take out incoming aggressors, the Shrike was in too close for them to be effective. But that didn’t stop Karlac from using them. Soon the sky above the shipyard was full of red streams of disrupter energy.

The Shrike came in low, evading construction cranes and trestles as it opened fire on the incomplete warships. Without shields or defenses of any kind, they were easy to hit. Centar targeted key areas as he saw fit. Using the years of accumulated starship knowledge from his lifelong study of them, he was able to seriously set back construction of the Vicor. Explosions erupted around them as the Vicor’s dry dock crashed and burned. Kiloe brought the Shrike around for a forward attack run on the bridge of the Toric.

Lord Krugger stepped out onto the bridge of the Toric and nearly ran into a technician. He stopped short for the man to pass. The bridge was an exact duplicate of the Eclipse. A multi-level stage set before an expansive, forward viewer that was currently showing offline static.

Open access panels, test sets and meters of fiber cable littered the deck. Anxious Engineers were busy hooking up vital consoles. Nobody noticed the presence of his Lord and Commandant. Krugger stepped over a bundle of cable and stood where the captain’s chair would have been.

“Where is the crew? Why aren’t they aboard?”

Karlac surveyed the work being done. “My Lord, every available man is at his station, helping bring it on line.”

“Where the hell is Captain Krees?”

Karlac moved to an inter ship communicator and paged Krees. The tiny plasma screen winked on and off before it finally displayed its message.

“My Lord, Captain Krees and his senior staff have been found dead. Killed by the infidel spies.”

Krugger turned around, his black eyes enlarged. “Where’s the Captain of this ship?”

Karlac keyed in the query. The reply came too quickly for him to register it.

“The Vicor has been grounded. Captain Kantz is transferring his command to this ship.”

Krugger slammed his fists onto the rail before him. The forward viewer snapped on showing the burning wreckage that was the Vicor. Twenty-five years of development came crashing down around him in a matter of minutes. The Emperor’s plans for an invasion would have to wait. Without three warships they could not achieve the surprise they had counted on. It would be several more years before another Eclipse class warship could be built. Providing the Toric could be saved from the same fate as the Vicor.

Krugger noticed a small ship heading directly for the bridge. It was the twin boom silhouette of an enemy ship. He turned to the tactical console. “You there, get me shields, now!”

The startled tech bowed his head and started frantically pushing buttons. The enemy ship grew larger as it came closer. It began to fire a volley of lasers as it approached. In a blinding flash, the Toric’s shields activated. The tech flinched as the shields held and the enemy ship passed over them.

“You, release us and prepare to launch,” Krugger barked at the only bridge officer present.

The young steward looked at Commandant Karlac, who shrugged. He had no idea how to run a warship. The steward moved around the bridge like a frightened animal lost in an unfamiliar territory. Krugger picked up the nearest seat and plugged it into the captain’s pedestal. He sat down and continued issuing commands to the technicians around him.

“You! Get me all the bridge officers up here now. You, set a course for low orbit. Engineering, this is Krugger, what kind of power do we have?”

A voice cracked over the intercom. “My Lord, we are not finished installing the impulse drive. If you launch us now, we haven’t the power to sustain orbit.”

“I don’t care, just get us up! We can use the tractor beams from my Koteli ships to maintain orbital altitude.”

Krugger eyed Karlac next. He was staying out of the way. This was not his element.

“Karlac, you’re now my First Officer. See what you can do to get me something to shoot with.”

Karlac looked around at the confusion and wondered which station was Tactical. More military personnel flooded onto the bridge and began to man unfinished stations.

“I could design the best ship possible but it would never be complete without a good brain. I designed the Nova Class strike ship with the best core control engineer in the business, Tuk Rembold. Tuk put everything he had into those damn cyber-cells. And they were every bit as stubborn as their maker was.”

― Commander Ari Idell, Starstriker Command.

Taken from his personal memoir, Functional Forms - Designing for the Impossible.

Chapter 14

The Shrike pulled away from its direct approach on the Toric. At the last moment, Centar had noticed the huge warship had come alive and was now launching. He ordered Kiloe to use it as cover against the incoming interceptors. Kiloe pulled up under the belly of the giant. There was a circular launch bay that set recessed inside the main hull. Centar motioned for them to rise up into the empty bay.

Inside the bay there were stacks of shipping crates, unfinished maintenance areas and not a few startled workers as the Shrike raised up and rotated around inside the bay.

“Hold here,” Centar, said, as he brought weapons to bear.

Kiloe slowly rotated the Shrike around its plane as Centar opened fire into the heart of the Toric. He was hoping to find a weak bulkhead in the direction of Engineering, wherever that was. As debris flew, the huge ship continued to rise. Before long, the Toric was higher than the oncoming interceptors - who flew past underneath it, clueless as to where their target had gone.

Krugger spun around to face the tactical section; Karlac was standing over two Toric crewmen, asking annoying questions about what they were doing.

“Karlac, we’re taking hits in the main launching bay. Close the entry hatch.”

Karlac nodded. He pointed to one of the crewmen who had moved to the appropriate panels to activate the hatch. That wasn’t so hard, Karlac thought. As long as he had competent people around, he could maintain the illusion he was in control.

“Okay Killer. Time to go,” Centar said.

Kiloe dropped out of the bay just as the iris hatch began to close. Centar popped off a couple plasma torpedoes into the bay as the Shrike fell down and away.

The flat-sided Interceptors quickly moved in for the kill. They reacquired their target and started pressing the attack.

“Here they come, now what?” Kiloe asked as he chose a target and boosted the throttles. Centar put full power to the forward cannons and opened them up. The Interceptor had heavy forward shielding and most of the beams were absorbed or deflected. The Shrike shook with the concussions of the enemy ship’s disrupter cannons, as the shields doggedly absorbed the enemy fire.

Kiloe tried to fake-out the enemy pilot by getting him to raise his diamond head revealing the weak underbelly. The Interceptor wasn’t buying it. Kiloe dove under as it passed, allowing for one shot at its underside. It was a lucky hit. One of the two rows of venting under the interceptor’s aft section blew apart, forcing its crew to bail out as the ship spun wildly to the ground trailing a black column of smoke.

“Nice shooting,” Centar, said as they banked hard.

“Hey, hold her steady! I’ve almost got it on line down here,” Dekka said over the intercom.

“Head for orbit, I’m directing the shields to cover our six,” Centar said.

“What about those cruisers?”

Centar checked his active scanners. “They’re heading for the big one, probably trying to cover it with their shields.”

Kiloe pointed the Shrike upward and swore under his breath. Here they were, running away again. They could have finished off that beast if they had pressed on with the attack. As he watched the Toric’s image recede he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that they would be seeing it again. It was only a matter of time.

The Shrike was taking hits again, this time from all three remaining Interceptors. The shields were weakening fast. Centar and Kiloe both watched the heads-up displays as the multi-colored layers peeled away like layers of an onion.

“How much longer Dek?”

“Not much.”

The third and second layer peeled away together.

“Hurry, old friend.”

Kiloe snapped a concerned look at Centar. Centar concentrated on the display.

“Almost there.”

The final shield dropped.

“Now!”

Kiloe activated the tunnel drive. There was a brief shudder as the final shield fell and the aft section began to disintegrate under the immense concentration of enemy firepower. The Shrike buckled under the strain as the tunnel drive folded space around them.

The lead Interceptor was too close to the fold. It was stretched apart like pasta as the wormhole’s gravity simultaneously pushed and pulled it apart. The Shrike’s frame twisted in a corkscrew fashion as it was pulled into the tunnel. A resounding crash marked the safe passage into the tunnel for the Shrike and its crew.

The three-man crew of the Interceptor was not as fortunate. Their ship was physically ripped in half, sending the crew cabin forward into the tunnel and leaving the drive section behind in normal space. The hapless crew was stranded in the warp funnel of the Shrike until it fell out of warp into normal space, some two days later. Without oxygen they suffocated within the first few minutes of their trip.

Kiloe and Centar began shutting down the controls, letting the Shrike fly herself. The navi computer had plotted the warp to reopen on the allied side of Neutral Zone, near the Corbate system. With any luck, the CSDF Franklin would be nearby to rescue them.

Dekka had found his way back into the med lab to check on Tamia’s condition. Kiloe and Centar joined him.

“She’s recovering nicely,” Dekka said, his voice choking back a lump in his throat.

“She’s a tough old girl,” Kiloe agreed. The nasty scars on her chest and face stoked a fire of more revenge in his heart.

Centar put his arms on both of their backs, “Let’s give her some privacy, boys. We’ve got some cleaning up to do.”

They assembled in the conference room that also doubled as a galley. The memory cells of their flight suits were strung together and prepped for down loading. The powerful sentient-cell core computer of the Shrike sorted and arranged the random data bits into a detailed outline, displaying the end results on several monitors.

Kiloe gripped a warm mug of stimulant with both hands. It was comforting in the dank, cool air of the ship. He slowly sipped the liquid as he watched the data graphs form.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before. What do you make of it Dek?”

Dekka rubbed his tired eyes as he spoke, ”You’re witnessing the birth of a whole new level of technology. The blue skins have finally broken the barrier between space and time.”

He folded his hands together and stared at the curious lieutenant.

“With this warship, they could traverse whole galaxies in the blink of an eye. Destroy entire systems before anyone knew what hit them.”

Kiloe’s eyes grew wide as realization of the importance their mission, sank in for the first time. Dekka had to smile he had never seen the go-lucky young pilot in such open mouthed awe before.

“Relax, Killer. We’re almost home. It’s up to the tech’s back on the world to figure all this heavy physics out, not us. All we have to do is get it into their hands.”

Centar came into the room dragging his feet and yawning. He fell into a seat beside Dekka, “I’m turning in guys. It’s been one hell of a day.”

Everyone nodded in silence. Centar locked eyes with Dekka, “Nice job on the tunnel drive. A moment longer and we were history.”

Dekka shrugged, “I had it figured out within minutes. It was convincing the ship to implement the plan that took so long.”

Kiloe narrowed his brown eyes, “What made it decide to act?”

“Self preservation. If we hadn’t been about to disintegrate right then and there, I doubt the damn core would have done a thing. It finally realized that time was running out and it acted in desperation to save itself.”

He sounded confident in his explanation, as if he were totally in control the whole time. But Centar knew him better than that. He knew his friend was as anxious as they were at the time. He heard it in his voice when he breathed, “Now!” There was no denying it was a gamble on Dekka’s part the whole way.

Centar grinned at Dekka and slapped his shoulder as he stood up.

“Don’t let him fool ‘ya kid, Dekka’s as big a gambler as you are.”

Dekka wrinkled his brow and shot Centar a harsh look. Kiloe understood it now. Dekka gambled on the computer’s reaction to the crisis and won; pure and simple, no different than playing a poor hand at Sheck. He pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and set them down before Dekka.

“Up for a game Dek?”

Centar laughed as he padded out of the room. Dekka got up, shaking his graying head. “Not tonight, kid. One high stakes game per day for this old man.”

He followed Centar into the sleep chamber. Kiloe picked up the deck and shuffled them in his hands. When this mission was over, he was going to have to get Dekka in a game. Something told him he could still learn a thing or two from his old teacher.

“Chartoc was the drug that could have facilitated the downfall of the Votainion Empire. More Votainions were addicted to Chartoc than any other drug in history. It wasn’t just ambitious leaders of the military who were addicted; it was people from all levels of society. There was such a demand for the drug that cartels on the Black Market financed major botanical gardens on Voton that secretly grew the plant under the unofficial condoning of the Emperor himself, who was one of their biggest customers.”

― Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press.

Chapter 15

Krugger had managed to get the Vicor into a stable orbit long enough for an experienced crew to come aboard and assume command. Exactly what they were to command was not clear. The ship was a long way from being space worthy. Repairing the damage to the shuttle bays alone would occupy his construction crews for months.

The interceptors had failed to destroy the enemy spy ship before it entered tunnel space. Calculating the trajectory along the path of the lead interceptor’s wreckage had led to several possible end points. The Alliance strong hold of Caloundria was the most likely destination. Krugger knew there was no question that the infidels had fled there to evaluate their stolen data. They would try to use the information to design a counter weapon.

Krugger was confident that the technology of the new warships was far beyond the reach of the enemy scientists. So radical a leap forward in physics was not an easy thing to grasp, let alone to try and master enough of it to design a counter weapon. However, given enough time, he knew there was a chance that the Alliance would catch up to and counter the threat. He had to be sure the infiltrators were eliminated, at all costs.

Time was critical in maintaining the edge that the Votainion Empire currently enjoyed. Time was also the one variable that Krugger could control. As he stood on the incomplete bridge of the Vicor, it occurred to him that he could use time to delay the arrival of the spies into normal space. The Eclipse could move through space and time as if they were one. By tracing the path of the retreating enemy ship, he could arrive ahead of it and destroy it as it reentered normal space; providing he could correctly deduce where it was heading. That shouldn’t be too difficult either. Surely such a small vessel would rendezvous with a larger, protective warship.

Krugger looked down at the communication center in anticipation, before he realized that it too was still incomplete. Bringing his armband communicator to his mouth he signaled his flagship Krux, in orbit.

“Get me through to the Eclipse, audio only.”

There was a short delay as the Krux’s Comm center placed a subspace call half way across Votainion space.

“This is Captain Kreeg.”

“Kreeg, recall your men and return to Dezzen. There has been a serious security compromise.”

Kreeg’s weak voice stalled before he answered, “Aye, my Lord. What shall I tell the Emperor?”

“Leave that to me,” Krugger said as he broke the connection.

By the time Krugger had made it to space, the Eclipse had arrived in orbit of Dezzen. Krugger transferred his command back to the Eclipse and retired to his quarters. He left Kreeg orders to track the enemy infiltrators, while he contacted the Emperor. Kreeg had very little to go on, so the sooner Krugger could return to the bridge the faster they could locate their target. Kreeg was to bring them into the Neutral Zone and commence a sensor sweep for the tiny enemy vessel. It was admittedly a long shot, but stranger things have happened in the war.

Krugger kneeled before the holographic projector and activated his secure line to the Emperor’s chamber. The projector put his image before the Emperor’s throne in life size and with perfect clarity. Krugger could see the Emperor on a similar device against the wall of his quarters. The Emperor’s throne was empty. He could hear the frail old man’s voice lingering in the background. Apparently, he chose not to show himself to his Chief Strategist.

“Go ahead my son, I’m away from my chair at the moment.”

Krugger hated not seeing whom he was talking with, especially when he knew his image was staring at an empty throne. “My Emperor, I have brought the Eclipse back into the war, to retrieve vital information stolen by enemy spies. My construction yards on Dezzen have been compromised and the new technology is now in the hands of our enemies.” It was difficult to admit failure to his Emperor. Krugger knew the technology was in no danger of being used by the Alliance, but the perception that they were in possession of something so valuable was embarrassingly bad. The Emperor returned to his throne and came into view on Krugger’s screen.

“Can you destroy the infidels before they use the new technology?” His wrinkled old face was alive with horror. Krugger had never seen the man so frightened before.

“Yes my Emperor,” Krugger replied as confidently as possible. The gesture seemed to settle the old man but not entirely. He shifted uneasily on his throne, no doubt wondering what his Soothsayers would tell him. A deeply suspicious man, the Emperor rarely made a move without consulting them first. An event such as this could easily turn the tide on his recent stay of good fortune.

“I have doubled security on Dezzen and will redeploy the fleet to strengthen our Western flank. This will force the Alliance to reinforce their Western flank and draw their ships away from where we will be. I shall report to you again in two standard days. I will have the stolen data and the heads of the spies as my trophy. Long live the Empire!”

The Emperor nodded and cut his transmission.

Krugger stood and turned away from the holo projector. The Emperor’s condition had surprised him. He was not aware of any illness that might have afflicted the Emperor and turned him so hollow and weak. Not that anyone would have known the physical condition of an Emperor except for the Royal Cook. Votainion leaders put their health in the hands of cooks, having little to no belief in medical practices. It was Votainion belief that one’s mental and physical health was controlled by how centered one’s soul was between the two. If you became sick it was because your soul or Kharome, was out of alignment. Only a trusted Cook or a Soothsayer could realign your Kharome with the universal balance of all life.

Krugger’s own Kharome was shifting toward the weaker side. He had been pushing himself for too long without taking the time for proper Kharome conditioning. He had been working for too many hours straight without so much as an abbreviated sleep period or a single substantial meal. His normally strong and fit body was becoming weak and fatigued. His keen mind was becoming sluggish and dull. What he needed was rest and a good meal, but he had no time for either activity. He just had to tough it out for a few more hours or possibly days, until he could capture the stolen data.

He opened a compartment and pulled out a clear vial filled with green liquid. It was called Chartoc, and it was made from the extract of a rare plant on his home world. Drinking the Chartoc potion gave you a boost of energy that would allow you to go several rotations without food or sleep. Krugger had been sipping from the vial for several days and each time he drank it, he gained enough energy to last another couple of rotations.

Before Krugger could take a second swallow from the vial, his cabin door slid open and Zarek strode inside the dingy room. Clothed in flowing black and red robes, the ship’s Cook seized the vial from Krugger’s grasp and slammed it onto the metal deck. The vial broke and the green potion seeped into the grating.

“You fool! I wasn’t finished with that,” Krugger shouted in vain.

“Yes you were, my Lord,” the Cook replied.

“I’ll have you put off my ship, old man.”

Zarek waved him off, shaking his graying head of hair. “Good. I’m too old for this and so are you.”

“What are you talking about, Cook?”

“You’ve become dependent on the Chartoc. You are here by ordered to stand down and seek rest and food. Any attempt to return to the bridge will result in my informing the Emperor that his Chief Strategist is unfit for duty.”

Krugger retorted with an animal grunt that surprised the Cook. He never realized how childlike his Lordship could become. Zarek ignored the display and started for the door.

“Don’t think I won’t forget this!”

Zarek shook his head and left without saying a word. Krugger slammed his fist into the wall in anger. In the corridor outside, Zarek could hear the tortured scream. It serves him right, the cranky old cook thought, as he made his way back to the kitchen. Zarek’s mind was already recalling the recipe for treatment of broken bones and torn muscles.

Commander Rouy was engrossed in the data being displayed in front of him. The multi-colored three-dimensional images were statistical models that calculated the probability of where the Eclipse would strike again. The data was giving him a headache. His mind just didn't see patterns in graphical relationships. He stepped away from the displays and glanced around the bridge to clear his head.

It was late in the shift, and people were beginning to get anxious to leave. Lower ranking individuals were attending to end of shift chores and the general atmosphere was relaxed. He had to give his people credit; they were making some progress on tracking the new enemy ship. In fact, they were further along than even he had thought possible. It would have helped if they knew just exactly what they were up against. Fleet Intel had evaded his attempts to get some answers. Typical, thought Rouy.

His thoughts were interrupted by an incoming signal from the scanning section. There was a starship approaching from their starboard flank. The powerful narrow band scanners of the Griffin were able to identify it as a lone "C" class destroyer escort. It was odd that such a small starship would be traveling by itself. Rouy watched the main viewer as it displayed a visual of the inbound starship. In seconds the computer's database identified it as DE 997, the GCU Sydney J. Stark. It was a Tongo Class Destroyer Escort.

Rouy turned to his communications officer "Do we have a hail from them?"

"Aye sir."

The Stark's Captain soon appeared on the main viewer. He was a dark skinned man with graying hair. He wore a disturbed look on his face and he spoke as if he disagreed with what he was saying.

"Commander Rouy, you will come about on the following heading and prepare to receive a special boarding party. I regret not being able to discuss this on an open line. Understood?"

Rouy nodded. Behind the Stark's Captain, Rouy caught the unmistakable image of an Intel officer's crisp black uniform with silver trim. The hairs on the back of Rouy's neck bristled in classic fashion. He hated dealing with Intel officers. All the hush-hush security and double talk they used drove him mad. The only time he had to deal with them was when his starship underwent equipment upgrades or there was a security incident on his ship. Fortunately, there hadn't been a breach of security on his watch in over six months, somewhat of a record as far as Rouy knew.

"Mr. Comter, bring us around to the new heading and slow to boarding speed." Rouy said as he headed for the shuttle bay. He could feel the increased tension on the bridge as others had also recognized the Intel officer's uniform.

From the open shuttle bay Rouy could see the GCU Stark hovering silently off the stern of the Griffin. This close he could see that it had several black pylons of unknown origin extruding from its hull. Rouy was well versed on the latest starship scanning modifications and this was like nothing he had seen before. On his way down to the shuttle bay, he had researched the status of the GCU Stark. Alliance Fleet records had listed the Stark as "destroyed in action" at the Battle of Al-Shatar, some ten months earlier. She was looking pretty good for a ship that was DIA.

The command shuttle slowly made its way between the gulf that separated the two starships. Rouy had ordered that the bay be cleared of all non-essential personnel as required by Special Operations Security bylaws. Only those with a SOS clearance were allowed to stay. Even on a ship as sensitive as the Griffin, only about two percent of the crew had SOS clearance.

The stubby shuttle came to rest and was secured by two ground personnel who quickly left afterwards. Rouy was alone in the brightly lit shuttle bay when the boarding party emerged with little fanfare. Two black dressed Intel officers of Flag rank led the captain of the Stark. Rouy escorted them into a secure debriefing room not far from the shuttle bay. The room was used to debrief pilots and crews who had returned from classified missions. It was a small gray room that lacked any creature comforts. The Stark's captain spoke first, breaking the silence that hung in the stale air of the tiny room.

"I'm Darious and this is Commander Reyna and Vice Admiral Kelley. They're going to brief you on what we know about the Eclipse."

Commander Reyna locked her cold dark eyes with Rouy and began to speak in the matter-of-fact, rapid-fire voice typical of Intel officers. "Captain, we're here to protect the non-existence of the Eclipse and the technology it uses to travel through space-time using Space-Time Displacement. That technology is referred to as NexGen, short for Next Generation. The enemy has been pursuing this technology for the past several years and we have successfully broken their security to learn what they know and how they are using it. What we are about to tell you is known to only a handful of individuals in the fleet. Do to the nature of this technology, any mention of this program, including the words: NexGen, Next Generation, Third Generation, CLS or Space-Time Displacement are forbidden and denied. Understood captain?"

Rouy nodded solemnly. He signed the electronic document on Reyna's data pad and returned it to her. There was a bitter taste in is mouth when he realized that the government knew about the existence of the Eclipse and elected not to warn the ships of the line. Thousands of people could have had their lives spared including his friend Bret Bowman, all in the name of Alliance security. He really hated Intel people.

Captain Darious sensed Rouy's uneasy look and stepped in before Commander Reyna could continue her legal spiel.

"Captain, I'm sure you noticed that my ship was listed as DIA about six months ago, it was the only way we could get her out of service without the enemy suspecting anything out of the ordinary. The Stark has been modified to track Space-Time Displacement activity. The black color of her hull and the pylons protruding from various points are part of that modification, known as CLS, which stands for Cloaked Locator Scan."

Rouy put up a hand to stop Darious. "If you guys can track the Eclipse, how come you didn't warn us when it came out of the black and destroyed our task force?"

Darious stepped back and let Reyna handle that one. She pursed her dark red lips and thrust out her pale white jaw. "We weren't close enough to detect the intrusion until after it had started."

She saw the look of disbelief on Rouy's face and retreated slightly from her bold stance. Rouy looked to the Admiral for the truth. Kelley saw the anguish in Rouy's eyes and finally admitted the truth. "Dwaine, the truth is, we just didn't expect them to try out the weapon so damn soon. The Stark was still in dry-dock and her crew were still being trained. They caught us with our britches down, plain and simple."

Rouy didn't like that answer either, but he knew it was probably the truth.

"Have you had any experience tracking the Eclipse at all?"

All three visitors avoided direct eye contact with Rouy. Great, he thought, a bunch of rookies trying out their gee-whiz technology for the first time. "Do you even know where it is now?"

There was still no eye contact from anyone. Rouy shook his head and sat down with a sigh. He put his head in his hands and continued shaking it. Darious sat down at the tiny table across from Rouy. "Captain, we last tracked the Eclipse moving from deep within enemy space to the planet Dezzen. We believe they were recalled back to their home construction planet to defend it against the actions of one of our Special Forces teams."

Rouy looked up. "Admiral Lusen's people?"

Kelley nodded. Rouy gestured for Darious to continue.

"This Starstriker team is heading back into Alliance space with vital data on the construction of the Eclipse and her sister ships."

"There are more of them?" Rouy asked in exasperation.

"Yes, but we don't think they're operational. Lusen's team is leading the Eclipse into a trap near the outer rim system of Tomungia. Do you follow me?"

Rouy nodded.

"We're using Caiden's task force as an unsuspecting target for the Eclipse to engage when they locate the Starstriker agents on Tomungia. Once we have them where we want 'em, we can take her on using what we know of this Space-Time Displacement Drive."

Rouy held up his hand to stop the admiral. "Wait a minute, sir. How are we going to destroy a ship that can move through space-time like we move through air?"

Commander Reyna joined in, "We're going to attack them at different moments in time, with two additional task forces that will join the fray at predetermined intervals. If we can track the Eclipse's movements for just a few minutes, we should be able to predict when and where it will next attack."

Rouy looked at them as if they were crazy. They responded as if they were used to getting such looks. Rouy shook his graying head again.

“Commander, we are prepared to proceed with modifying your ship so that you can track the Eclipse. With your permission, of course.” Reyna said.

Rouy nodded in agreement. Reyna and Darious both left the room. Admiral Kelley sat down at the table with Rouy. After what seemed like an uncomfortably long pause, he spoke. “You don’t seem to be too enthused about this.”

“Admiral, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t like all this Intel stuff on my ship. It breeds suspicion and rumors. My people have been on a quest of retribution to find this Eclipse ever since the day it destroyed our fleet. They don’t need distractions to keep them from their goal.”

Admiral Kelley nodded in agreement with Rouy. “I understand. But consider this, commander. Your only chance of getting this bird is with our help. The Griffin doesn’t have what it takes to find and destroy the Eclipse by herself. By helping us, you in-turn help your crew to find their closure with this thing.”

Rouy looked the senior officer dead in the eye, “I hope your right admiral.”

“Erin Kent, there’s a name I’ll never forget. She stole my heart and my ship. But you know what? I’d do it all again, just the same.”

― Freighter Captain Joules Rouse, Renoke

Former Law Force Officer, Starstriker Consultant

Chapter 16

Millie had kept herself occupied with checking out the sophisticated equipment nestled into the compact hull of the Geostar. She tried not to think about her husband, or how worried Admiral Lusen would be upon hearing of her sudden disappearance, or about the authorities that were undoubtedly searching for this stolen spacecraft.

Her pale blue eyes gazed languidly at the controls before her. It took her a few moments to focus on the multicolored panels. When she realized what she was staring at, she sat up, startling herself. It was a state-of-the-art microbiology lab, rivaling what she used at the university. She found the manufacturer’s brochure stuck in a crack between the scanning electro-magnetic microscope and the genetic interpreter. In fact, this was the very setup that she was trying to get her administrator to order for the Sealogger.

How much of a coincidence that was, she thought. Considering Erin Kent’s record of manipulating people and institutions, it was obvious that she had intercepted Millie’s order for the lab equipment. Erin was carefully anticipating what would be needed to help the aliens she was crusading to save, and nothing would stop her from succeeding. Millie had to hand it to the woman for displaying such empathy and unwavering perseverance in her effort to save the Tomungians. She activated the mini-lab and began running through its features with the instructional program.

Erin came back from the flight deck and watched her old teacher learning to use the mini-lab. Plastic wrapping still covered the other equipment in the corridor. She walked over to the wall behind Millie and started pulling down the protective covers. Millie took a moment to look up from what she was doing.

“This is quite a set up you’ve managed to put together here.”

Erin nodded as she folded the covers. “I had hoped you would approve of my selections. I spared no expense.”

Millie nodded as she smiled. “How did you manage it? I’ve had some of this stuff on order for months back at the university.”

Erin sat down at the station beside Millie. “I convinced the board of directors at Biocore to let me have their latest lab unit to field test it before they released it for Western Alliance sale. I told them the press release on this little adventure would sell the unit better than any advertising they could dream up. They held off delivery to all their clients until they had my field work results to verify the lab’s usefulness.”

Millie was impressed, to say the least. “What about this starship? I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it.”

“You haven’t. It’s a one-off design, built for some super-secret government mission that was later canceled. I found it in storage out near the space docks on Relossa. I just couldn’t let such a useful ship stay locked down, so I liberated it. For the betterment of Tomungian society, of course,” she said with a wry grin.

Millie turned around to face Erin, concern written on her face.

“Are the authorities looking for you, uh, us?”

Erin punched up a vid screen and a broadcast from Star Net News came on. The lead story was about the reported destruction of an entire fleet by some unknown enemy warship. Alliance mercantile prices were plunging in response to the report, and the President was explaining the situation in a rare broadcast from the capital on Selene there was no mention of stolen government starships or a galaxy-wide manhunt. Not even a report about a missing university biologist on Selene.

“The Alliance has its hands full right now with the war. I don’t think they even know where this ship is or that you’ve disappeared. Thanks to your refusal to be wired into the neuro-net, nobody will miss you for at least a week. I guess we’re just not lead story material.”

For the first time in her life, Millie Havic actually regretted not being connected.

Admiral Lusen was in his office on the Thrusher, catching up on administrative work that he could no longer put off. It was late in the second shift and he should have been sleeping. But he just couldn’t rest easy until he knew if his strike team was okay. He should have heard from them soon, if all went according to the plan. But war had a way of changing even the best of plans.

Lusen took a last drag from his cigar and slowly blew a perfect smoke ring. He watched the gossamer ring float upwards until it was torn apart by the ship’s air circulation vent. His attention was captured by an audio signal from the bridge. A vid screen popped on to his right with the dark face of the First Officer, Commander Breeson.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now sir,” she said.

Lusen shook his head, “What’s up Commander?”

“We still haven’t had contact with strike team Alpha, but we are picking up strange reports of enemy activity near the Nanga system.”

Lusen sat up, his mind clearing, “What kind of reports?”

“Well sir, we think it’s just public reaction to the news reports coming out about the Eclipse. It’s mostly paranoia concerning its ability to strike out of nowhere and at any time. Several border stations are being attacked in random order by unseen enemy forces. The Caloundrian Self Defense Forces are under high alert, chasing down the reports as they come in.”

Lusen sat up and straightened his service coat. “Commander, I think our team is about to turn up. It sounds like the blue skins are using the Eclipse to search for them along their last tunnel jump. Alert the Franklin to be ready for their arrival. Get me a secure line to Admiral Kelley, I’ll take it in my ready room.”

“Admiral, there is one more thing.” Lusen turned back to the screen, “Commander Havic’s wife has turned up missing.”

“What?”

“The University claims she was abducted while out to sea on a regular student run charter. Local authorities are calling it a voluntary leave of absence, because she gave no signs of being under duress.”

Lusen picked up the stump of his cigar and re-lit it as he spoke, “If she didn’t contact our offices in Port Domio, we can only assume she was kidnapped. Inform all Starstriker units to be on the alert for possible hostile actions against dependents. I want to stay on top of the search, from here. Instruct our people on Selene to work closely with the local law enforcement authorities; I want a full report ASAP.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

Lusen chewed on his cigar as he headed for the bridge. This was going to be a long night.

On the bridge of the Thrusher Lusen took his command chair and was immediately brought up to speed on things since he left his office, three decks below. Commander Breeson started with a situation report on the Alpha team.

“We still don’t have any contact from Commander Havic’s team. The Franklin group is engaging enemy forces near the gas giant principle of the Nanga system. We’re trying to get visual communications with them now, but data reports indicate the battle is not going well for them.”

Lusen’s eyes were fixed on the main viewer. Static and convergence were giving way to jerky images of the Franklin’s battle bridge. Confusion and fire seemed to be prevailing over order. The situation did not look good.

“Are you still getting reports of enemy activity in other systems?” Lusen asked.

“Aye sir, and you were correct, all reports are coming in along a path leading directly from M-61.”

Lusen nodded, his attention still on the main viewer. Clearer images of the carrier’s battle bridge were coming in. There didn’t seem to be anyone left alive. Data flow across the lower part of the viewer clearly showed the names of the six support ships and the carrier as either destroyed or rendered unfit for action. Lusen lowered his eyes.

“Keep this line open as long as you can.” Breeson nodded as an aid handed her a data pad. “Admiral, an update on Havic’s wife. It seems an experimental starship was stolen from our space docks on Relossa that matches the students’ description of the ship that abducted their professor.”

Lusen took the data pad from his First Officer and studied it. The report was sketchy at best, describing the actions of the alleged thieves. The base commander believed it was one woman working alone, but reputable sources on the space dock at the time reported seeing an alien acting with the woman. No accurate description of the second suspect could be obtained, alien or not. Lusen tried to focus on a motive for both crimes, and how they could possibly be related. But he just couldn’t concentrate. He was too tired, and there were too many things competing for his attention.

He needed to get some sleep and that was all there was to it. Lusen handed the data pad back to Breeson and rubbed his tired eyes. “Is the line to Admiral Kelley open?” he asked.

Breeson gave a quick glance to the Comm panel and saw the blinking light that indicated a call waiting, “Aye sir.”

“I’ll take it in there,” Lusen motioned in the general direction of the ready room. “Then I’m turning in, for the night. Don’t wake me.”

“Understood sir.”

Lusen padded over to the ready room and entered. It was a narrow, clean room with smooth surfaced walls and a long conference table. Lusen punched in his password to the access controls and the face of Admiral Kelley appeared.

“Jake, you look like hell.”

That was just what Lusen needed to hear.

“I’m into my second shift; things are just starting to get interesting around here.”

Kelley nodded, “We have a fix on our target, your people must be driving Krugger mad, and he’s taking on every border station he can find.”

Lusen managed a grin, he trained his people well, and it was nice to hear other people notice. “We haven’t heard from them yet, I expect to within the next few hours. It doesn’t look so good for the Franklin group though, I hope there’s something left for my people to use. I don’t like hanging them out alone like this.”

Kelley’s face remained as stoic as a rock. “They will find a way, Jake. They will find a way.”

Lusen took another drag from his cigar. There was an uneasy silence before Kelley changed the subject. “What’s this I hear about one of your classified ships being stolen and used to kidnap a dependent?”

Lusen was just waiting for that one to pop up. Intel people didn’t miss much when it came to security breaches. “I’ve got a team working it from Domeo. Looks like it might have been a former student with a known criminal record. I haven’t had time to investigate how she was able to break into a high security space dock and steal a starship. I rather suspect an inside connection.”

Kelley acted as if he agreed with Lusen’s suspicion. “You better look closer, Jake. I’m sending you the complete dossier on this former student. Her name is Erin Kent and she’s got a long history of environmental activism. We’re tracking her starship and it’s heading directly for Tomungia.”

Lusen sat up and leaned forward, “Tomungia!”

Kelley sat back smugly. “I’m sending a corvette patrol to intercept them. The last thing we need is a radical environmentalist trying to save the guerrilla tribes on our target planet.”

“Pete, don’t let anything happen to the hostage. She’s my strike team commander’s wife.”

Kelley shrugged reassuringly, “No problem, how hard can it be overtaking a civilian piloted starship?”

“The Geostar was designed for a specific series of missions that the Starstrikers were training for that never materialized. Yes, I built it, but it was not my design. I was glad it never went into production; it was really an incredible ship. But you didn’t hear that from me understand? That damn hack, Reynolds designed it. Best thing he ever did. I didn’t say that either, got me?”

― Commander Ari Idell, Starstriker Command.

Taken from an interview in the Engineering Excellence periodical.

Chapter 17

Millie was thrust out of her cabin bed by a sudden and jarring maneuver. She found herself sprawled out on the cold metal floor, wondering what had just happened. The Geostar was banking hard port to starboard and the internal dampeners that would have prevented its occupants from being tossed around like rag dolls had obviously been turned off.

She grabbed onto the metal pipes and fixtures that ran down the nearest wall and used them to pull herself upright. It was still warm in her cabin, but she knew it would be cold on the bridge so she put on her flimsy white cover-up and quickly slipped into some deck shoes that Erin had loaned her.

Outside in the main corridor of the ship, she was thrust against the far wall as the ship banked hard back the opposite direction. The sudden swings in inertia made her stomach leap in and out of her throat as she made her way down the corridor to the bridge. It’s a good thing she hadn’t eaten much in the last few rotations.

On the bridge, Erin and the Tomungian were frantically piloting the starship towards a gaseous green planet with wide, thin rings. Millie strapped herself into the navigation seat and watched the commotion. Erin noticed her arrival and pointed to something beside Millie, “Could you activate that for me?”

Millie saw what she was talking about and turned on the device. What it did, she had no idea. Flying through space in state of the art ships was something her husband did not her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, concern in her voice.

Erin flung the ship in another direction and several gray Alliance starships came into view. “We’re being pursued by Alliance corvettes. Those codes Gunnel gave me didn’t work. I think they may be onto us.”

She flung the Geostar back in the direction of the ringed planet and eased the throttles forward. Everyone was pushed back into their crash seats. “Tome, I need more thrust, see if you can boost it a little.”

The Tomungian was as lost on the bridge as Millie, perhaps even more so. He pushed buttons and threw switches until something affected the gauges. Millie hung onto her seat and watched the icons representing the corvettes on the scanners, close in on them.

A brilliant bolt flashed by in front of them and rocked the ship with a bone rattling concussion. Erin turned back to Millie and flashed a sarcastic smile, “They’re just trying to scare us, that’s all.”

It’s working, Millie thought to herself. “You can’t run from them forever, what are you going to do?” she asked, as another blast rocked the ship.

“Sit tight Teach, and watch an old pro work her magic.”

They were getting closer to the gas giant planet; it now filled their forward screens. Swirling green and yellow clouds were lit up occasionally by supper-bolts of lightning giving the planet a macabre feel. Erin wasn’t concerned with the planet; she was heading for a small moon nestled under the rings. It was an icy blue and white color with veins of frozen methane. She lined up the Geostar on the moon and unstrapped herself.

“Come on Teach, I need you to help me.”

They made their way aft to where the storage rooms were located. Erin opened the hatch to one of the rooms and stepped inside. It was filled with all manners of scrap metal and spare parts. Erin took off her shoes and pants, flinging them into the pile.

“Take off your shirt, it will help add to the illusion if they have something of yours to recover.”

Millie was confused, “What?”

Erin grabbed Millie’s cover-up and ripped it off of her. Millie stood back, folding her arms over her chest. Erin tossed the torn fabric in with the garbage. “You’re faking our deaths?” Millie asked.

“Yea, pretty smart huh? I figure they’ll give up after a while and assume we perished. Then we can jump out of here for Tomungia. Come on, it’s time to die.”

Millie grabbed a light jacket off a chair on the way back to the bridge and put it on. Tome was waving frantically and shouting at the view screens, as the small moon loomed large ahead of them. “We’re going to crash, we’re all going to perish!” his interpreter box repeated.

“Relax, Tome. I got you covered.” Erin said as she sat down and took the ship off autopilot. She increased thrust and aimed for a crevice in the methane ice.

Millie watched the corvette icons back away from the moon. Several smaller blips appeared and started chasing them - starfighters. “Erin, they’ve launched smaller fighters,” Erin glanced up at the rear scanners and saw the tiny triangles approaching from three sides.

“Okay people, time for the big finale. Strap in and hang on tight.”

Tome and Millie were already strapped in; they grabbed restraining straps and held on tightly. Erin seemed to be enjoying the chase. Millie never would have guessed the woman was such a gifted star pilot.

The Geostar skimmed along the icy cliffs of the moon, ducking into valleys and screaming past long stretches of flat ice. Just as the chasing starfighters were about to close in on her, she headed full power straight up away from the moon. The pilots in the fighters looked up as the Geostar rocketed away from the moon.

One of the bigger corvettes moved in for the capture. Millie could see the tractor beam glowing under the head of the ship. Erin waited for what seemed like an eternity, before reversing course and heading full tilt toward the surface of the moon. There was a shudder as the corvette’s tractor beam nearly locked onto them, but it was too late. The Geostar dove forward into the ice field. Erin fired several laser volleys into the surface a moment before impact. The resulting explosion allowed them to break free of the crust ice and plunged them deep into the black liquid Methane Ocean.

Erin released the cargo hold door and all the debris from the storage room flooded out behind them and rose to the surface. She cut all power to the main reactor and they drifted down and forward.

They all watched the depth gauge count the fathoms as they descended into the abyss. The overhead lights were off, leaving the glow of the instruments to light the tiny bridge. Millie peered into the dark methane waters, trying to see if there was anything alive in them. Always the marine biologist, no matter where she was. Once or twice she caught the smooth sides of some kind of creature gliding by in the darkness. There was something alive out there.

Erin leveled off the descent and let the underwater current carry them along. There was nothing to do but wait. They couldn’t risk surfacing for at least twelve standard hours, to give the search teams time to confirm their loss. Erin unstrapped herself and stood up. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?”

Millie and Tome exchanged glances. Neither one of them were enjoying the chase. Tome unstrapped himself slowly; he was exhausted from the wild ride. He stood up shakily and made his way back to his cabin without thanking his host. Erin waited until he had left the bridge before commenting, “You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.”

“How long are we going to hide out down here?” Millie asked, taking Tome’s seat.

Erin stretched out her legs and leaned back into her seat. “I figure at least one rotation. Time enough for them to be thorough, but not too long as to delay our arrival on Tomungia.”

Millie peered out the forward view screen and caught a glimpse of another gray body that slipped by. “I’d love to test the instruments on those creatures out there.”

Erin shot her a sly look, “Sorry Teach, we can’t risk the energy signature. Oh, and don’t plan on any heroic attempts to contact the search parties either. Nothing transmits on this ship without my authorization.”

“Listen, Erin, would you mind not calling me Teach. I’m no longer your instructor.”

Erin shrugged, “That’s the truth. Okay, Millie.”

Millie smiled her approval and decided to change the subject. “Didn’t you bring along any extra clothes for this journey? I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to get pretty cold already.”

Erin rubbed her bare legs and brought her feet up to her seat. “Yea, I brought some extra clothes, shall we go back and see what we can find?”

Millie nodded; she was making an effort to get to know Erin Kent again. The first step to defusing a hostage situation was to let your captor see you as a regular human being, with emotions and desires just like anyone else. At least that’s what she recalled from her Dependents' Survival Course at Starstrikers Headquarters. All she really hoped that she could do was to gain Erin’s trust, by sympathizing with her plight. That, and keep her wits about herself. Something that was becoming more and more difficult for her as time went on.

“The Franklin was my first deep space assignment. The corridors were narrow and the whole starship seemed cramped by modern standards. I served two years on that rust bucket, but they were some of the best years of my young career. Something about having to put up with old technology that was leaking, dripping and otherwise falling apart on you that builds character and makes you appreciate what you have back in the fleet.”

― Commander Dekka, Starstriker Alpha Team

Taken from his biography, A Lifetime of Service.

Chapter 18

The Shrike dropped into regular space and coasted along on impulse power. Her primary drive was destroyed on Dezzen; this included the tunnel drive. The aft section of the slick starship was scrambled beyond recognition. Scorched and twisted metal, bent panels and leaking gasses trailed behind the starship, leaving a trail as easy to follow as a wounded animal.

Inside the bridge, its crew was preoccupied with finding their host battle group.

“There’s no one here, the system is empty.” Tamia said, staring in disbelief at her scanner screen.

She had recovered from the medical stasis and was able to return to duty in time for their arrival in the Nanga system. Her scars would easily heal but her desire for retribution would not. She had returned to duty with a vengeance, despite the concerns voiced by the male members of the team. She resented being treated any differently because she was the newcomer. Both Havic and Dekka had hovered over her during her recovery phase like two women wet-nursing a child. When Tamia had finally had enough, she exploded, telling them to back off and let her be.

The display had worked, both men left her alone after that and she was able to recover quicker than anyone had expected. Her relationship with Kiloe had grown closer on a professional basis, as he was the only member of the team who could relate to what she was going through. He was once the newcomer, striving for team acceptance. He gave her the space she needed and encouraged her participation in shipboard duties, if only to get out of doing all of the grunt work himself. After all, she was the lowest ranking member of the team and it fell upon her to do much of those tasks. At least until she had been with the team long enough to defend her position in the pecking order.

Tamia silently went about her duties, her hatred for the enemy and what they had done to her, growing inside her with every hour. By the time they had gotten to the rendezvous point, she was ready to fight again. Ready to dish back what had been served to her in pain and hardship.

“Dek, concentrate your scans on Nanga Prime. Kiloe, see if you can get us into a geosynchronous orbit.” Havic instructed as the massive primary planet of the Nanga System grew larger in their view screen.

Tamia readjusted her scans and zeroed in on the Class One gas giant. She began to get readings of multiple targets, all too small to be a starship. When the biological readings started coming in, she could surmise what had happened. “The group has been destroyed. I’m picking up multiple hull pieces and various debris in lower orbit of Nanga Prime.”

There was a collective silence on the bridge. Everyone knew the Franklin Group was the only way home, with the Shrike as badly damaged as she was.

They all looked to Havic for instructions. He stroked the beard on his chin and sat back in his seat. “It’s possible that they tracked our tunnel jump and hit every target in the region before we arrived. If that’s the case, there might not be anyone nearby left alive.” Not the most encouraging statement.

“Wait, I’m picking up a large hull fragment from behind Nanga Prime.” Tamia said, her voice slightly higher in pitch from excitement. “It’s the Isosfer, or what’s left of it.”

The Isosfer was a tanker ship. It had a narrow tubular body with a disk shaped head. There was little left of it now but a few torn segments that only a trained eye could recognize as having been a starship.

Dekka locked onto the mangled hull with his spectral analyzer. It gave a ghostly image of the battlefield, marked by star drive trails and gas clouds from ruptured energy cores. A large cloud of debris and gas trailed behind the Isosfer, followed by the start of another field.

“I think there may be something left of the Franklin. Just coming into view now.”

Tamia realigned her scans and picked up the nearly complete hull of the UCSDF (United Caloundrian Self Defense Force) Franklin. “I’ve got her, she has power!” Tamia exclaimed.

“Kiloe, see if you can get us within docking range.” Centar said, as the tension quickly eased.

“I’m on it.”

The Shrike limped into a closing course with the battered hull of the Franklin. It must have been a fierce battle, there were large holes drilled into the sides of the old starship carrier. All her fighters had been launched and the main flight deck was pitted and scored with blackened metal. The wired cage surrounding the deck was twisted and torn like a broken greenhouse. Green and yellow gasses were flowing from the engine cylinders at the ship’s stern. The battered hulk shook with the explosion of something deep within. More debris shot out from a gaping tear down the port side.

The Franklin was losing a tug of war with the gravity of Nanga Prime. It was only a matter of time before she would be ripped apart and rain down onto the upper atmosphere of the gas giant, in a flaming funeral pyre. It would be a spectacular end to a once glorious starship.

The Franklin was the first of the modern second-generation starships. It was a bridge to the technology that would eventually open up the war to include half the galaxy. The Franklin employed six “C” Class star drives to push it through tunnel speed, making it capable of taking the war to the enemy’s home worlds for the first time.

With its crew of two thousand people, the Franklin could cruise for two-year missions into deep space, a feat unheard of before. The carrier’s squadrons of fighters and attack ships could really lay the hurt on unsuspecting Votainion outposts - back in its glory days. But the rapid pace of development during the second half of the long conflict soon outclassed the once mighty starship. After a second ten-year refit, she was decommissioned and sold to the Caloundrian government, in a deal that brought that system into the fold of the Western Alliance.

Dekka watched with fondness the old starship getting bigger in the main viewer. When he was a young lieutenant, he was stationed on the Franklin as part of the Western Alliance’s military exchange program. He spent five years onboard the mostly Caloundrian crewed ship. He had made a few close friends in that time, some of which now occupied high positions in the Caloundrian Self Defense Forces. He wondered how many people died in the Franklin’s final battle.

Landing the Shrike on the twisted and torn flight deck required all of Kiloe’s piloting skills and intense concentration. He lined up on a straight path that cut an angle across the main deck. With only retro thrusters at his command and no saving tug of a tractor beam, he was left with sliding the strike ship into position near the far bulkhead, where they could enter the starship near the pilot briefing rooms.

Havic assisted during the approach, doing his best to eke out as much power from the weakened thrusters as he could without distracting Kiloe from landing. Tamia and Dekka watched in silence, gripping their armrests and waiting for the inevitable touchdown.

The Shrike lunged and swayed in stomach churning fashion as it came upon the Franklin. Kiloe struggled to keep the nose up and pointed away from the larger pieces of junk that were wedged into the grid around the flight deck. He wasn’t always successful, ramming some obstacles and scraping by others. One of the twin, forward facing booms of the Shrike snagged on a fallen beam and was ripped off the starboard side of the ship. Sparks sprayed off the metal deck as the Shrike touched down and slid, first one way then the other, before it came to rest against the bulk head at the rear of the flight deck.

Inside the bridge, everything came to a sudden halt, slapping heads sideways. Kiloe and Centar immediately began shutting down systems to prevent overloaded circuits from sparking and burning. Fire was a starship’s greatest enemy. It consumed valuable resources, not the least of which was oxygen. The quickest way to put out a shipboard fire was to seal off the deck and suck all the air out of it. Not an option when there were people trapped inside without pressure suits.

Dekka and Tamia battled the flames that erupted from her scanners as a result of the booms being ripped off the side of the ship. They quickly had it under control and set about turning everything else off. The din of the post flight shut down soon quieted down, leaving an eerie silence on the bridge.

Centar unstrapped himself and turned back to face everyone. “Nice landing Kiloe.”

Kiloe shrugged, any landing you live through is a good landing.

“We need to find some way off this ship, before she falls out of orbit.” Centar said, checking his chronometer. “That gives us about thirty minutes. Dekka since you used to serve aboard this ship; you and Kiloe can try and find us a transfer shuttle or escape pod, something capable of making just one tunnel jump. Tamia and I will assemble our data and some survival gear. We’ll head out to your location when you find something.”

Everyone seemed to agree with the plan. Dekka and Kiloe headed back to suit up while Centar and Tamia made for the conference room.

With time closing, they quickly and safely suited up each other and debarked from the side hatch of the Shrike. Dekka lead the way, relying on twenty-year-old memories to guide him. Kiloe did his best to keep up, while marveling at what he considered a museum ship. Their boots were magnetized to allow them to walk through the ship unhindered by the lack of gravity. They carried side arms and rifles, in case the Votainions had left traps for them inside the dying ship. Dekka had his rifle shouldered and was using his bioscanner to survey the corridors for any signs of life.

Mangled equipment and signs of a terrible fight were everywhere. Blast marks on the airlocks and walls where enemy shock troops had entered, killing everyone in their path. The Votainion military did not take prisoners, or have any sympathy for the wounded. There were plenty of bodies, mostly trapped under heavy equipment or structural beams. Bloated corpses floated hauntingly through the corridors, red spheres of blood surrounding their wounds. If they were not dead from the battle, they were killed instantly when the ship depressurized.

They pushed on, deeper into the bowels of the dead starship. The hairs on the back of Kiloe’s neck were standing on end. He was beginning to feel the rise of adrenaline that came with fear. There was nobody alive for him to fight. Abandoned battlefields tended to unnerve him.

Dekka paused in front of an open cabin hatch. He peered inside, dropping his scanner. Kiloe edged closer, to see inside the cabin. It was empty. The previous occupant had long since been gone or was dead.

“What is it Dek?”

“My old quarters. It looks the same as the day I left.”

Kiloe nudged his friend, “Come on Dek let’s find a way out of here. Our window is closing on us.”

Dekka took one last look around and then turned away. They continued their downward journey using catwalks and ladders. Three floors below the flight deck, they came upon the first bank of escape pod tubes. All of the pods were ejected. Further down there were more tubes, also empty. They found one pod still in place, but its hull was breached by a direct hit. There were several bodies trapped inside.

Dekka changed directions and headed deeper inside the starship.

“Where are we heading now?” Kiloe asked, concern in his voice.

“The Captain’s Launch. If it’s still here, it should be capable of at least one jump. That is, if it’s not destroyed. The shock troops might have found and disabled it.”

By the time they had reached the correct deck, Kiloe was completely turned around. He had no idea where they were. Dekka still seemed as if he knew where he was going, despite making a few wrong turns and backtracking. He blamed the mistakes on the last refit, not his faulty memory.

The darkened corridor was empty, save for a thin layer of mist hanging at waist level. There were no blast marks on any of the walls, which was a good sign. It meant the fighting from above was confined to the upper decks. Dekka and Kiloe both activated their infrared lights and continued forward cautiously.

Kiloe held his rifle at the ready, unlocked and ready to engage. Dekka scanned the halls carefully with his hand held unit. A sputter on their comlinks scared both men half out of their wits. Kiloe pointed his rifle toward something moving toward them through the smoke.

Another sputter on their comlink, followed by a synthesized voice, “Greetings fellow crewmen. This way to the Captain’s shuttle.”

Kiloe and Dekka looked at each other and then back to the moving shape in the swirling smoke. A squat, half-meter tall droid floated out of the darkness, its wiry arms extended in greeting. The soft green glow of a scanning electro-mechanical eye, swept back and forth like a beacon from its cylindrical head.

“An EPO droid,” Dekka said.

The droid hovered up to them and enacted a slight bow. “Escape Pod Operator, Three, Seven Zero, at your service.”

Dekka squatted down before the droid and scrutinized it. “Three, seven, zero, two, two, four. Why you old rust bucket, it’s me, Dekka!”

The droid seemed to peer into Dekka’s darkened visor. It righted itself and backed off slightly. You could almost see its silicon brain digesting the data. Finally, it held out a thin metal claw to Dekka, who shook it like the hand of an old friend.

“It’s good to see you again, Dekka,” the droid said, as warmly as its voice synthesizer could muster.

“Same here, little friend. What are you still doing on this bucket, don’t you realize it’s going down?”

The droid righted itself and beamed, “The Captain ordered me to stay, until the very end. He said that someone important was coming, and that my services would be required.”

Dekka looked up at Kiloe, who only shrugged.

“EPO, did any of the crew survive?”

The little droid dipped down again, slowly turning its head back and forth. “Sadly, no.”

Dekka patted the head of the droid. “We have to get off this ship, little friend. Take us to your charge.”

The droid righted it’s self again and sped off down the corridor, “This way Dekka, I have the power on and ready to launch.”

Kiloe lowered his weapon and signaled the Shrike that they had found a suitable ship, then he held up Dekka for a moment, “What’s with you and the droid?”

“Friendship isn’t exclusive to biologicals.”

Kiloe raised an eyebrow. It was generally accepted that human and droid relationships were akin to human and dog relationships. Both were capable of true affection, with the droids being true to their biological masters to the very end. The intelligence of most droids tended to be about that of a loyal dog. Despite their amazing computing abilities, most droids were kept bereft of advanced artificial intelligence. The war and the Uprising, had held back droid rights for hundreds of years.

EPO led them further down the corridor until they came to the entrance of the Captain’s Shuttle. The droid inserted a probe into a socket on the bulkhead and the door slid open.

As Kiloe ducked inside, Dekka turned to EPO, “We’ll let the LT get settled in, we need to get up to the flight deck and get the other members of our party.”

“Understood, sir,” the little droid said. Dekka looked down at EPO and smiled.

“It’s good to be working with you again, EPO.”

“Yes, Dekka, I am pleased to have you back,” replied the triangular droid, as they both moved quickly down the corridor.

“At a time when free silicants are as common as free biologicals, it is heartening to know that during the Great War, there was at least one relationship that was not based on a owner vs. object relationship.”

― Cameron Creese, Artificial Person

Chief Historian, USF Holographic Lab

Chapter 19

When Dekka and EPO arrived at the Shrike, they found Tamia and Centar ready and waiting. They had stowed survival gear and weapons into back packs and carry bags. Centar carried the stolen data modules close to his person. Dekka picked up his share and gave EPO a few bags to carry.

“Everyone, this is EPO. EPO, this is Commander Havic and Lieutenant Tamia.”

Centar all but ignored the droid, handing it a bag and moving on. Tamia realized that this droid was something special to Dekka and squatted down to its level for an introduction.

“Hello, EPO. I’m Tamia.”

“Greetings Tamia, it is a pleasure to be working with you.”

Tamia secured the bag Centar had dumped on the droid and rearranged it so the floating droid could better manage the weight. “That should make it easier on you little guy.”

“Thank you Tamia. Come, we must not delay our departure.”

Everyone followed EPO back into the Franklin. After a quick descent to the lower levels, they arrived at the captain’s shuttle. Kiloe was waiting for them outside. He quickly started loading their gear into the shuttle.

“There’s not much room inside, these old style shuttles are little bigger then a regular escape pod,” Kiloe said, as he packed. Tamia handed him another bag, “As long as it can get us out of this system and back to civilization, that’s all I care about.”

They all climbed aboard the cramped shuttle and took their seats. EPO glided into his station up front, beside the pilot. Kiloe scanned the controls again, trying to remember how to steer the antiquated shuttle. EPO secured the hatch, filled the shuttle with breathable air for his guests and disengaged from the Franklin’s underside. Kiloe finally decided to let the more experienced pilot fly the shuttle. He’d be content to watch for a while.

The swirling storms of Nanga Prime filled the main viewer. They were so low; the friction from the upper atmosphere of the planet was heating the outer hull of the shuttle. It rocked back and forth buffeted by the high winds of the massive planet.

The forward view screen was limited to a restricted view ahead of them. All that could be seen was the swirling cloud and the super heated nose of the tiny shuttlecraft. Everyone was strapped into their seats, holding onto the restraining bar as the shuttle struggled to escape the planet’s death grip.

Pulling itself clear of the huge starship, the tiny shuttle broke orbital speed and flitted away from Nanga Prime. Behind it, the Franklin was slowly torn apart as the hulking mass entered the dark side of the planet. EPO switched the viewer to a stern shot and everyone watched the brilliant bolide burn itself into the night sky of Nanga. There was a long moment of silence, as everyone noted the demise of another fine ship and mourned the lives of its crew.

Finally, EPO spoke. “You may remove your pressure suits; I have adjusted the interior atmosphere and set the temperature to Alliance standards. Do we have a selected course?”

Everyone began taking off helmets; Tamia was the first to speak. “Caloundria sounds good to me, I’ve never been there.”

Kiloe set his helmet on the floor behind his seat, “I hear they have pretty good sheck games on the royal casinos of Caldor.”

Dekka was staring at his old friend, waiting to hear what he would say, knowing full well it would not be what everyone wanted to hear. Centar put his helmet in his lap and wiped his bearded face. “We’re not going back to Alliance space.”

Tamia and Kiloe looked surprised. Wasn’t the mission over? Didn’t they arrive at the designated rendezvous place? Admittedly, they would have to find an Alliance fleet and reunite with the Thrusher for a debriefing, but that was it, mission accomplished. The data would be in the hands of the Alliance think tanks and they would be back in friendly space.

Centar looked around at the faces of his teammates. “Our mission is not yet complete. The Eclipse is following us, destroying all outposts in the direction of our tunnel jump. We cannot lead such an invincible warship into the heart of the Alliance. We must lead it into deep space and trap it.”

“Wait a minute, are you saying we’re the bait for this trap?” Kiloe asked.

Centar nodded. There was another moment of silence as everyone came to grips with what was now being asked of them. Dekka was the first to speak up, “Where is the Fleet planning the trap, commander?”

“Tomungia.”

Dekka nodded and motioned for EPO to set the navi computer and make the jump. Centar handed the droid a data chip. “Transmit this message on all Alliance military frequencies before you jump.”

EPO took the chip and plugged it into the transmitter. Dekka looked back to Centar, “This was part of the original operational plan, wasn’t it? The Franklin Group was going to be our protective escort to Tomungia. The theft of the ship plans was just to get Krugger’s ire so he’d follow us.”

Centar lowered his eyes in acknowledgment. “I couldn’t brief any of you about this, because it was classified. It was not my decision to make,” He looked up at every one, “This mission has implications that go far deeper than any of us realize. All we have to do is get the Eclipse to Tomungia, where the fleet will engage it. The message is to the Thrusher, telling them where we are heading. But it’s encrypted in a code that we know the enemy has cracked. With any luck, the Eclipse will follow us and the trap will be set. If not, then the war may be over before we get back.”

“What about the data we retrieved, can’t that be used to stop the Eclipse?” Tamia asked.

“The technology is too advanced for our scientists to decipher in time to stop the enemy from taking the war to the inner planets. They could easily invade our home worlds before we could mount any kind of a resistance to them. The Eclipse must be destroyed as soon as possible. We have no other recourse,” Centar finished.

Kiloe looked around at everyone. “Isn’t there a Surface Army base on Tomungia? Are we going to augment their forces, or fight with the fleet?”

Centar could see the resolve in Kiloe’s eyes and knew he would have no problem killing more Votainions. “We are to help the Army defend the base from enemy invasion forces. They have limited resources, it won’t be easy.”

“We’re Starstrikers, we don’t know, ‘easy’,” Tamia stated. Her eyes were dark with revenge.

“Yea, bring ‘em on!” Kiloe agreed. Centar looked back to Dekka. The old man’s face lit up with a flash of white teeth, “Anywhere, anytime, any way, baby!”

Everyone helped him finish the Starstriker Jody, “Killed you then, kill you now, kill you later, maybe! We strike from above, We strike from below, We strike from within, don’t you know, we’re the Star-strikers!”

EPO engaged the tunnel drive and the tiny shuttle jumped to Tomungia.

Erin had waited close to twelve hours before activating the Geostar’s power cells and ascending to just below the icy surface. Tome was in his usual place at the copilot’s seat and Millie, just awakened from a nap, was sitting behind Tome, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Erin did a brief scan of the area with a low power burst. Nothing showed on the return screens.

“Looks like the party’s over, time to go.” Erin said, as she brought her weapons to bear on the ice above them.

Several short burst from the ion torpedoes and a sufficiently large hole was blasted away in the blue white ice. The Geostar lifted through the hole and climbed into a low orbit around the frozen moon. Erin brought all her scanners to focus on the surrounding star system. It took a few minutes to do a thorough search.

For the first time, Millie began to wonder what Admiral Lusen might be thinking. Surely he’s aware that she is missing and when he finds out that she was killed, he would be obligated to inform her husband when he returned from his mission. She hated knowing that Centar would be told of her death. She wasn’t sure how he would take the news, but she knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied with inconclusive evidence, which would mean he would come here looking for her body. His search would be in vain and he would have to live with the doubt as to what really happened to her. Millie began to feel the tears well up in her eyes. She wiped them away and regained her composure, hard though it was.

Erin completed her scan and began programming the navicomputer, satisfied that there were no lingering Alliance starships in the area. Millie tried to distract her emotions by showing interest in what Erin was doing. “How long will it take to make the jump from here?”

Erin shrugged as she fingered the navicomputer controls, “Couple of hours, tops.”

“Are there any human outposts on Tomungia?” Millie asked.

Tome nodded his large, oval shaped head. Erin waited to see if the alien would comment before she answered. Tome scoffed and readjusted his position in the copilot seat.

“There are several Surface Army bases on the planet, but no civilian habitations. Tome’s people are engaged in a limited guerrilla war with the Army presence. They blame the Army for causing this ecological disaster that we’re trying to reverse.”

Another guttural scoff from the Tomungian, “It’s genocide, the humans are trying to erase our presence so they can take our home lands and terraform them into an industrial waste land.”

Erin rolled her eyes at Tome’s opinion. “Not all humans agree with the Alliance, we’re on your side, remember.” The alien nodded the consent. His antennae curled in unison, a gesture of disdain.

“How are you going to land without the Army seeing you?”

Erin finished with the navi computer and turned back to face Millie, “Easy, they’re not expecting us. This ship has the latest in stealth technology; all we have to do is slip in under their system net, jam their limited orbital detectors and we’re there. If that doesn’t work, it will still take them days to find us, without a global satellite system in place. That should give us enough time to figure out what needs to be done.”

Millie sat back in her seat. Erin was so confident in her abilities, and she made it sound so easy. Millie wondered what her chances for survival would be if she were to make a break for it on the surface. Probably next to nothing, considering the planet was covered in primordial jungles and teaming with prehistoric carnivores of every size and shape. She had been studying what was known of the planet’s biological diversity while they waited beneath the ice. Tomungia sounded to her like hell. There were so many ways to be eaten on the planet that she found it hard to believe the Tomungians were able to thrive at all. She was not looking forward to their arrival.

Admiral Lusen had not been interrupted during his sleep cycle and awoke refreshed. He ate his morning meal, which consisted of wafers, fruit, a hot stimulant drink and a smoke. Sitting at the captain’s chair on the bridge of the Thrusher, he surveyed the pass-on log from the night before. They had received a message from commander Havic’s team that all was well and they were heading to Tomungia, according to schedule. A message from Admiral Kelley’s people on the Stark, confirmed the Eclipse had been in the area at the time.

Dispatches from captain Caiden’s group had confirmed enemy concentrations in the Nanga system. Caiden had mixed it up with several Armada ships and retreated before they could outnumber him. Lusen shook his head. Mace Caiden was a crazy old space rat, always looking to mix it up with the enemy. He was glad the man was on their side and not Votainion. The Griffin was being converted so it could track the Eclipse and both it and the Stark were leading Caiden’s group back towards Tomungia.

Something gnawed at the back of Lusen’s mind, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was. He was forgetting something, something important about Tomungia. He paused in reading the pass-on log and looked around, trying to recall what was so important. His mind drew a blank. It was something related to Tomungia, but not about the planet itself, or anyone on it, he thought. He was about to let it go and continue with reading the log, when it hit him from out of nowhere - Millie Havic.

Her kidnapper was heading in the direction of Tomungia, last he knew. He skimmed down the log until he came on the report from Kelly’s corvette patrol. They had discovered the rogue starship, registered Geostar, and chased it until it committed suicide on the surface of an ice-covered moon. Suicide? Lusen queried the ship’s computer for a more detailed report of the incident. Apparently, rescue teams had searched the area and found enough debris to confirm that the ship was destroyed. Several personal artifacts were recovered from the crash site, including a white wrap that Millie was last seen wearing.

Lusen put the data pad down and looked around the bridge. He couldn’t believe that Millie’s abductor had decided to end her plight in such a pointless manner. Wasn’t she supposed to be some kind of radical environmentalist or something? Maybe she was not heading for Tomungia at all. Maybe there was something on this moon she was interested in saving. Lusen used the data pad to call up all the geographic data on the moon where the Geostar had crashed.

It was known as IS369.4, until now, unworthy of even a proper name. He scanned through the planetary specs and noted that the surface ice covered a methane sea that did support a fairly substantial biosphere. Most of it was not cataloged do to the war and the difficulty of civilian study so close to the Neutral Zone. Like so many moons and planets discovered during the last quarter century, it was marked for future exploration when the galaxy was not at war. Lusen chewed on his fresh cigar and pondered the question of why this Erin Kent person would decide to kill herself and Millie on such a remote moon.

Perhaps she was trying to study the life forms under the ice, in which case she would need a starship with submarine capabilities. The Geostar was designed for just such an aquatic mission. If memory served, it was intended to be a cross between a submarine craft and a spacecraft. Lusen puffed a perfect smoke ring and watched it rise until the bridge air circulators sucked it away into a vent. The wafers he ate for breakfast gurgled in his stomach.

He went back into the report from the corvette search teams. They had recovered only about one percent of the actual mass of the starship. They logically concluded that the remaining debris sank to the black depths of the moon’s undersea floor. Nobody had thought to probe the sea floor for the rest of the debris, because of the unlikelihood of any survivors in the extreme cold of the methane ocean.

Lusen was beginning to think the search parties had been hoodwinked into believing the Geostar was destroyed, so that they would leave the area. He now suspected that Erin Kent was still under the ice at IS369.4, trying to make a scientific discovery on a moon in a system off limits to civilian scientists. It made perfect sense, and it kept Lusen from having to inform the leader of his strike team that his wife was dead.

Lusen sent a message to Admiral Kelley informing him of his suspicions about the fate of the Geostar. Then he ordered a strike team to prepare for a search and rescue mission to IS369.4. With any luck, they could locate Millie and get her to safety before Havic turned up on Tomungia.

“When Jake called and said he and his people would be joining us, I was relieved and more than a little bit concerned. The Starstrikers didn’t offer to help anyone defend a planet unless it was already considered doomed. Our little garden paradise was about to get a first class ticket to the war.”

― General Lester Lyons, Surface Army

Taken from his Life Recorder.

Chapter 20

Lord Krugger stood before the main viewer on the bridge of the Eclipse, hands clasped at his back. Despite all that had transpired on Dezzen, he still commanded the most powerful warship in the galaxy and that thought alone, gave him the confidence he needed to find the infidel spies. Combined with a decent night’s sleep and a good meal, he was feeling impervious to anything.

The sensitive frequency scanners of the Eclipse had intercepted a message from the spies to their command ship just a short time ago. They were heading to an army base on the Life Belt planet known as Tomungia. Krugger smiled to himself, he just couldn’t have wished for a more perfect ending to this little farce.

The Votainion Engineers had been working a project on Tomungia for decades and were now prepared to offer their services to help capture the spies and terminate the Western Alliance presence on the planet.

Krugger knew his former mate was involved in the Tomungian Project and the prospect of working with her did not sit well with him. She was a vengeful and unconventional Votainion woman who had once vowed to see him dead. Conventional Votainion wisdom held that one never crossed a female and lived. They were the deadliest of the sexes. Krugger shook his head to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t be concerned with her at this critical moment.

Krugger turned around to face the members of his bridge crew. They were all looking to him for guidance and inspiration. Every man was handpicked by Krugger himself, they were culled from the finest crews of the Combined Fleet. They came from all over the Empire and from every Kastra (House). It was the honor of a lifetime for them to serve on this ship under his command. Krugger was proud to lead them to victory against the enemy.

“Fellow warriors, we will soon be tasting the spoils of victory against our hated enemy. I want to assure you of our triumph and to praise you for the valiant efforts you will soon be asked to perform. We stand at the dawn of a new day in the galaxy, when Votainion dominance is assured and the Western Alliance is reduced to ashes. When you retell to your grandchildren the story of this glorious time, they will look at you with respect and admirations, for you were the generation that ended the war and brought imperial dominance to the galaxy.”

Krugger paused, “Fight hard and true, my valiant warriors, for this day will shine the brightest in the history of the war.” He finished with a curt nod and the room erupted in cheers for him and the empire.

He turned and walked down the platform to the center of the bridge. Captain Kreeg was standing at the captain’s console with the other senior officers, “Outstanding speech, my lord.” Krugger eyed him and the staff. “General Vorn, you may prepare your troops for invasion. Leave no human alive and destroy all evidence of their base, understood?”

General Vorn nodded curtly, “As you wish, my lord.”

Krugger turned to Admiral Kerzon, leader of the starfighter squadrons and the drop ship squads, “Admiral Kerzon, you will provide cover for the invasion. Should we encounter any Alliance warships, you will concentrate your efforts on the invasion and let them to me.”

Admiral Kerzon acknowledged his leader. Captain Kreeg silently wondered if he would even be allowed to engage the enemy warships, with Krugger leading the show. He was perfectly content to run the Eclipse’s systems and let his lordship make the tactical calls. The last thing he wanted was to get into a disagreement with Krugger and find his own head in his hands.

Krugger dismissed everyone and turned his attention to Kreeg. “Set a course for Tomungia and wait for my order to engage. We shall give our prey time to land before we destroy their piteous plans.” He said.

Kreeg replied with assurance, “Yes my lord.”

The Geostar fell out of tunnel space and into orbit around Tomungia. Erin pointed the starship toward the Southern Hemisphere and nosed into the upper atmosphere of the tropical world. The Geostar slipped through the night skies of Tomungia like a falling star, generating a small fireball and a weak, sonic boom. There were much quieter ways of entering a planet’s atmosphere, but she preferred to mimic cosmic junk rather than linger in the upper levels of the atmosphere, where ground based tracking receivers could spot them.

It was difficult to see much as there were no moons to cast a pale light on the surroundings. Jagged edged mountains and ancient volcano calderas dominated the dark jungles below. Tome had reclaimed his seat in front, watching with great anticipation as his homeland stretched out before them. He was able to navigate based solely on his memory from having walked through the various valleys and ridges. He pointed to a ridge and motioned for Erin to head in the general direction.

Millie sat behind the alien, watching the night sky filled with strange constellations. She had only been on two different planets in her travels and they were both within several light years of each other. The constellations she could identify on one planet could usually be found on the other without too much variance. But here, star patterns were way out of kilter, which only served to add to her ill feeling about the place.

Erin guided the Geostar within meters of the treetops, trying to avoid Army surveillance. She knew where the bases were, but she could not guess where their sentry posts were located. They scaled the tops of an ancient, moss covered caldera and dipped into a vast crater with a lake that was wider than one could see. Tome motioned for Erin to set down on the glassy smooth, black water of the lake.

The Geostar came in low for the landing, transitioning with ease from an aircraft to a watercraft. After she had shut down the various systems no longer needed for space flight, Erin began activating the areas of the ship designed for discovering and investigating alien ecosystems.

Tome unstrapped himself and moved warily to the center of the ship in what looked to Millie like a waking dream state. Erin brushed off the strange look her on captor’s face. “He’s communicating with his tribe. It’s something like mental telepathy. It only works when they are within several kilometers of each other.”

Millie leaned forward and spoke softly so as not to disturb the alien, “Are we going to be visiting his people?”

Erin shook her head, “Not if I can help it. This planet is crawling with reptilian carnivores and various other meat-eating creatures. No thanks. We can do all our research from the confines of this metal womb,” she said, indicating the ship they were in. The relief was visible on Millie’s face as she sat back into her seat and unstrapped herself.

“We’ll let him converse for a while and then get down to business.” Erin unstrapped herself and stood up stretching. The ship rocked slightly, catching her off guard. “Got to get used to my sea legs again,” she said, moving unsteadily back towards Tome.

Millie stood up and found herself immediately in tune with the swaying of the ship. A lifetime aboard sea going vessels had given her excellent balance and, it seemed permanent sea legs. She moved past the motionless Tomungian and took her seat at the mini-lab. Over the duration of their flight from Selene, Millie had quickly become adept at using the unique features of the lab. She activated the undersea scanning equipment and immediately began taking measurements of currents, water temperature and composition. The data collated into easily interpreted graphs and 3-D pictures without any input from the user.

Within a few minutes, the mini-lab’s computer had put together a vivid picture of life in the ancient crater lake. Millie read through the finished reports, marveling at the detail and clarity. All that was lacking was a microbial study of actual species. Erin came back from her cabin, dressed in tropical clothing. She handed Millie a stack of similar clothes and told her to change while she and Tome discussed collecting samples for them to study. Apparently, there were several details she and the alien had not yet fully worked out.

Millie returned from changing to find Erin and Tome arguing heatedly about the needs of the hive. Apparently, Tome had overstepped his jurisdiction when he accepted human help to save the Tomungian people from dying out. In fact, the hive Queen was not pleased that he had gone so far as to leave their world in the first place. Tome Tremier had taken it upon himself to save his people and in the process was in danger of being cast out from their hive. The Queen wanted him to bring the humans to her and grovel for his own life. She was sending a war party to take them by force if necessary.

Erin seemed less concerned about the war party then she was with Tome trying to bring them to his Queen. She was trying to persuade him to hold out until they could isolate what was happening. At least then she would have something to argue about with the Queen, perhaps even a cure for her people. Tome was showing classic signs of distress for any species; pacing, antennae wringing and general uneasiness.

“Okay look, just give us twelve hours to get a feel for things. Your people can’t reach you as long as we’re submerged. Tell your Queen that if she doesn’t hear from you by tomorrow night, you will turn us in and she can do with us what she pleases,” Erin said, noting Millie’s return. She saw the look of horror on her old instructor’s face and briefly shook her head so that Millie would know she had no intention of surrendering to the alien Queen.

Tome was facing away from her when she made the plea; he spun around again and paced back before Erin and Millie, antennae writhing away like nervous fingers on a human. “I’ll try, but I don’t think I can vouch for your lives, if we fail. I am prepared to die for this.”

Erin smiled, “I know Tome, that’s why I like you so much, we’re alike in so many ways.”

Millie wanted to vomit. She was being held hostage by two radical nut cases that lived in mutual admiration of each other. She was more than a little upset that none of this was explained to her back on Selene. Tome went back into one of his meditative trances and Millie lit into Erin.

“I thought Tome’s people wanted us to save them, what the hell are we going to do if we can’t solve this by tomorrow?”

Erin lowered her voice and turned away from Tome. “Relax Mil, I don’t have any intentions of letting them near us. Besides, they are a fourth world society, what can they do to us?”

“Why don’t you ask the Surface Army? Haven’t they been fighting with the Tomungians for decades now?”

Erin waived off the question. “Let’s get some samples and find out what we’re dealing with here.” She sat down at the lab and started pushing buttons. Millie sat down beside her and began reviewing what the initial scans had discovered. After a few moments, Tome returned from his trance and stood between them.

“The Queen has refused to communicate with me. Her advisors have given us until dawn.”

Millie shrugged, “So how long is that?”

“Two hours,” Erin said, barely audible. She chose not to look up see Millie’s icy stare.

Admiral Lusen was returning from lunch when the situation report came in from IS369.4. He sat down at the Comm station and read the strike team’s report. They had just finished a very thorough search of the moon’s surface and methane ocean and found no sign of the Geostar, destroyed or otherwise. Lusen sent an order to the team to return to the Thrusher. They would be entering Tomungian space soon, and he wanted all his teams' planet side to help defend the Surface Army bases.

And perhaps this Erin Kent was heading for Tomungia after all. If so, she was probably already there. Lusen walked over to the Comm section of the bridge and had the crewman put him through to the CINCPD (Commander in Chief of Planetary Defense) for Tomungia. After a few seconds delay in establishing a connection, the communications officer at Fire Base Tango, appeared on the screen.

“General Lyons will be on in one moment, standby.”

The captain’s face was replaced by a Surface Army logo. Lusen took a final drag from his afternoon cigar and put it out. The burly face of General Lester Lyons soon replaced the Army logo.

“Admiral Lusen, what can we do for you?”

Lusen had to grin, in a few hours Lester’s entire command could be wiped out and he’s asking what he can do for Lusen. “General, it’s more like what can we do for you? I’ve got six strike teams ready to deploy. Just tell me where they can help and they’re yours. We should be in Tomungian space in less than an hour.”

Lyons appeared to think about it for a moment and then began sending his request over the data link. Lusen received it as text to the side of Lyon’s face, on his screen. “I appreciate the assistance, Jake. How are things shaping up with the fleet?”

“You should start to see elements of the Second Wing arriving in the next hour. It won’t look like much to the enemy, but we’ve got back up elements, holding just out of scanner reach, ready to deploy once the battle unfolds. My job is to help you defend the planet in any way possible.”

Lyons nodded his agreement as Lusen spoke. “Good. Well, we don’t have much in the way of surface to orbit weaponry, so any kind of low orbital support will be greatly appreciated. Are you running things from the Thrusher or coming down for a visit?”

Nothing could have stopped Lusen from going planet side with his teams. He cut loose another smile, “I’ll be there, and you can count on it. I know a good party when I see it.”

Lyons chuckled in his horse voice. “Just like old times on Negram, eh?”

“Let’s hope not.” Lusen remembered the joint Starstriker/Surface Army defense of that tiny desert world back when both men were lieutenants. They lost more people under their command during that battle then at any time previous. The experience brought the two men closer together as survivors of political incompetence as much as military defeat. It was a sad day for the Alliance and a turning point in military tactics. No longer would military campaigns be waged under direct control of the political powers that be. All future campaigns would have unified political support and be executed by commanders in the field, not politicians acting under pressure from civilian voters.

“Les, there is one more thing. I’ve got a recon strike team heading your way with some very important data on that new enemy warship. They should be dropping in any minute now. If you could send someone out to bring them in, I’d be much obliged. Look for a class three escape pod.”

General Lyons’s face turned serious and he looked away off screen. “Jake, we’ve been getting unidentified targets on our sky watch net all night. Are you sure they haven’t splashed down yet?”

“Possibly, however, I think I can clear up what one of those bogies were.”

Lusen sent the general a synopsis of the Geostar situation over the data channel. Lyons studied the report briefly before looking up. “How the hell did she get through our blockades?”

“Stolen clearance codes and a little deception. I don’t think she will be a problem for you; my people will make the apprehension. Just be aware that she’s holding a dependent hostage.”

Lyons handled the situation very well, thought Lusen. He could have easily blown it out of proportion, but he just let it go instead. He had too many things going on to worry about something like that anyway.

“We’ll talk when you get here, Jake. Take care.”

The screen went blank before Lusen could reply. He got up from the chair and stretched. He had a landing to execute in just under an hour. Passing over command to his FO (First Officer), Lusen left the bridge for the mission ready room.

The tiny captain’s shuttle fell out of tunnel space and spun lazily toward the dark side of Tomungia. Daylight was fast approaching their landing zone as the shuttle spun past the dark terminator moving from night to day.

Inside, all eyes, mechanical and human, were on the forward view screen. EPO activated the heads-up display showing their progress through the landing cycle. The captain’s shuttle was capable of landing on any planetary surface, but the preferred medium was water. Orbital correction jets fired sending the tiny craft into a fiery re-entry that was direct and simple. A large parasail deployed in the lower atmosphere that allowed the droid to fly the shuttle to a safe if not completely soft landing.

Everyone braced themselves for landing as the shuttle descended rapidly to the massive crater lake below. Last minute course corrections due to sudden wind changes forced them to endure a few sinking dips and swaying turns before splashing into the water. The outside of the shuttle erupted with inflatable pontoons to keep the heavy craft afloat, while the yellow parasail gently floated down to the water where it flattened out and trailed behind the shuttle.

Inside, the shuttle rocked and swayed with the lapping of the waves. Tamia was the first to unbuckle. She reached up and cracked open the shuttle’s top hatch, letting in the warm breeze that broke across the lake. The smells of fresh water lake flooded the shuttle’s interior. She could see giant rain clouds forming in the pale blue morning sky. It was good to be planet side on a world as familiar as her home. She was born and raised on Drexel, a tropical water world with only a few good-sized islands.

Centar and Dekka started pulling out the life raft kit and pushing it up to Tamia. She squeezed the heavy package through the hatch, activating the inflator before letting it go over the side. The raft inflated into a four passenger, unsinkable craft. Tamia pulled herself up and onto the still warm reentry material on top of the shuttle. She moored the raft to the shuttle with a line before she afforded herself a good look around.

The lake extended for kilometers in every direction. In the fog-shrouded distance, thick jungle growth reached down to the edge of the lake. High crater walls could be seen, silhouetted against the rising yellow sun. Large, prehistoric birds soared high above them with wingspans greater than the length of the shuttle. It seemed like they could remain airborne for hours, soaring in the thermals created within the high crater walls.

Centar was the next to emerge from the top hatch, bioscanner in hand. He gazed around at the beautiful sunrise and paused to enjoy it. Kiloe pulled himself out next, careful not to rock the shuttle. Tamia climbed down the side of the shuttle and into the raft, making sure everything was in order inside, before they began loading it up with their gear.

Dekka started pushing equipment through the hatch to Kiloe who in turn handed things down to Tamia on the raft. They quickly had the raft loaded and ready to cast off. Centar activated his wrist communicator and tried to raise the Army base, “Fire Base Tango, Fire Base Tango, this is Strike Team Alpha, over?” There was nothing but static on the emergency frequency.

“Fire Base Tango, this is Strike Team Alpha, do you copy?”

There was still no reply. Stooping over the hatch, Centar called down to Dekka. “Dek, see if EPO can raise someone on the ultra high frequencies. This crater is blocking my signal.”

“Right.” Dekka moved beside his old metallic friend, “Let’s try all emergency channels at high gain.” EPO beeped acknowledgment and activated the transmitter. Dekka spoke into the mike on his headset, “Fire Base Tango, Fire Base Tango, this is Strike Team Alpha, do you copy, over?”

There was an immediate reply, but it was garbled and drowned out by static. Dekka called again, hoping the receivers could use his signal to get a lock on them. There was a moment of silence, followed by a high-pitched, clear female voice. “Strike Team Alpha, this is Fire Base Tango, we have you. Good morning and welcome to Tomungia!”

Dekka smiled. He didn’t expect such a chipper welcome in the middle of nowhere.

“Copy Tango, where’s the welcome party, over?”

Another voice, female but lower pitched and more business like, “Squawking four, two six. This is Tree Dancer five, I have visual.”

Dekka could hear skimmer engines screaming outside. On top of the shuttle, the Starstrikers were treated to a low fly-by from two skimmers, diving on them from across the open water. They passed by close enough for Kiloe to see their pilots clearly. One of them waved. Tamia and Centar waved back. Kiloe could feel the heat from the twin turbo fan exhausts on each aircraft as they passed by a few meters overhead. He had his fingers in his ears to suppress the deafening noise. The two jets climbed back up to a respectable altitude and circled the lake in formation.

“Strike Team Alpha, this is Tree Dancer Five, proceed on a heading of one hundred and twenty degrees until you get to the shoreline. Recker Recon will rendezvous with you and bring you back to Fire Base Tango. Copy?”

Centar raised his wrist communicator, “Roger that, Tree Dancer Five.”

The skimmers flew off into the direction they had indicated and were soon out of sight. Centar took a reading on the shoreline with the biocorder. The hand held device showed a compass heading on its tiny screen. There didn’t seem to be too much animal life in that direction, but the biocorder was working overtime on the sea life under them. He looked down at Tamia, who was installing the raft’s compact drive system. She had her hands in the water attaching the suitcase-sized device. There were massive life forms moving all over under the raft.

“Lieutenant, be careful, there’s all kinds of unfriendly life in these waters.”

Kiloe was staring down at the water when Centar issued the warning. He took out his laser pistol and followed several dark shapes moving around just under the surface.

“I got her covered, commander.”

Tamia started to work faster, after catching sight of what Kiloe was tracking. In a few minutes, she finished and quickly jerked her hands out of the water.

She looked up at Centar, “Can we go now?”

“Tomungia was discovered by accident when a starship with a newly fitted tunnel drive overshot its intended exit point and was not heard from for several months. It took the crew of the GCU Tarra that long to get their orientation figured out and tunnel back to where they started. While they were in the undiscovered system they cataloged seven planets and several dozen asteroids. The Alliance sent a fleet of destroyers to the system to claim it before the Votainions discovered it. The planet has had some form of Alliance military base on it ever since.”

― Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press.

Chapter 21

Millie was finishing up a microbial examination taken from one of the sea fauna captured by the Geostar’s traps. She increased magnification again and adjusted the monitor’s brightness. The wave-guided microscope was concentrating on the fish’s DNA string, cataloging and comparing it to all known DNA patterns. A tone sounded as the computer found a match. Millie raised an eyebrow as she examined the comparison on another monitor. The fish was a generic, freshwater variety. Half dozen similar species had been found in lakes all over the Western Alliance, but no two were ever exactly alike.

The process of evolution, if given like conditions, tended to favor certain genetic combinations. She called up the data on the matching fish DNA. It was Vertonius Equatorian; a species native to Votainion colonized planets. What would a native Votainion fish be doing in the waters of a neutral zone planet? Possibly, the Vots had been here before the Surface Army and were trying to populate the water with a fish that was a staple of their own diet. Perhaps they were trying to ready the planet for colonization.

Millie sat back and toyed with a loose strand of her blond hair. Could this be the cause of the Tomungian people’s problem, she thought. Perhaps their biology's were incompatible with the Votainion fish. There was only one-way to be sure, she needed to get a DNA sample from Tome.

She looked around the darkened lab and didn’t see anyone, so she got up and headed for the bridge. Erin was sitting in the pilot’s seat, tracking some commotion on the surface.

“What’s going on?”

“Looks like we have company. A starship escape shuttle just splashed down,” Erin said, without looking up.

“Are we going to assist them?”

Erin raised her eyes, “No.”

“What if they have casualties?”

“Tough. Did you find anything useful yet, it’s morning up top?”

Millie sat down in the copilot’s seat. “I think so, but I need some DNA from Tome to confirm it. Do you think he would object?”

Erin looked away, “Probably.” She activated the ship’s intercom, “Tome, could you please come to the lab. We need your assistance.”

She gave Millie an indifferent look as they got up and headed back to the lab. Tome was watching the lab’s vid monitors when Erin and Millie arrived. He looked over at them, his oval head tilted slightly, “Have you found something, Doctor Havic?”

Millie moved in closer, and pointed to the main screen, “Is this fish native to your planet?”

Tome recognized it immediately, “Yes, it is Tuvere, very tasty.”

Millie looked at Erin and showed her the DNA comparison to the Votainion fish. Erin saw the match and her eyes got big. “Tome, how long have your people been eating this fish?”

“We have always eaten Tuvere,” the Tomungian stated.

Millie and Erin exchanged glances. “Tome, we need for you to provide us with something.”

Tome faced the two humans. “Ms Kent, we are wasting our time studying fish. My people are at this very moment, searching for us.”

Erin took Tome by his arm and moved him away from the lab. At the same time, Millie grabbed a dermal extractor from the lab and handed it to Erin.

“Tome, we think these fish might be,” she brushed the extractor along the exposed forearm of the Tomungian as she spoke. The alien didn’t appear to notice that a layer of his skin was sheared off at the cellular level, “the cause of your people’s problem. You see, this fish is not a native of this planet. It was introduced to these waters by our hated enemy, the Votainions.” She handed the extractor back to Millie who inserted the device into a slot on the lab’s control panel and began examining it.

Tome wasn’t buying the preposterous story that the human female was spinning. “You humans keep talking about these Votainion people, but I’ve never seen them before. I suspect that they are humans just like yourselves and that they have the same plans for Tomungia that your people do.”

Erin stopped and grabbed both arms of her Tomungian friend. “Look, I can assure you that the Votainions have the same plans for using this planet as the humans do. However, the Votainions are not interested in trading agreements or peace treaties with your people. They are only interested in the land itself. When they come back, and they will, they will bring thousands of soldiers, and if they think they could use your people for slave labor, they will. If not, they will exterminate every Tomungian from the land and make this their planet.”

“No matter how bad you think the human’s intentions are, we will not exterminate your people. Believe me, if that were our purpose, we could have easily done it long ago.” Erin studied the alien for his reaction. Tome’s brow lines were beginning to uncurl a sign she took to mean he was coming around.

Millie wasn’t listening to the sermon going on behind her. She was too amazed and shocked by what she was discovering imprinted on the DNA from Tome. His DNA was an identical match to Votainion genetic structures. She looked still closer and found similar sequencing and combinations to Votainion clones that were used by the military. The evidence was beginning to point to a significant, very advanced, Votainion genetic experiment-taking place on a planetary scale. The implications were immediately apparent to her, but she had no idea that the Votainion Engineers were this advanced. They were playing God with this planet, redesigning it on a cellular level to suit their own needs.

She stepped back from the lab as another thought came to her. The entire Tomungian race could be a fabrication of the Votainion Engineers. If that were true, then they might even now be under the direct control of the Votainion military. This would also explain the Votainion fish, suitable for those with Votainion DNA. She turned around and stepped back against the lab, staring at Tome suspiciously.

Erin noticed her odd behavior. “Mil, what is it?”

“I need to talk with you alone,” she said, edging her way towards the bridge.

Erin realized something was up. She politely excused herself and left for the bridge.

“What did you find?” Erin asked, taking her seat. Millie was already sitting in the copilot seat. Her face was a ghostly white color, eyes wide and dark blue.

“The entire Tomungian race is some kind of Votainion breeding experiment. Tome’s DNA had all the earmarks of a Votainion clone.” She leaned closer and whispered in case anyone was listening, “They could even be under direct Votainion control right now.”

Erin sat back in her seat. Her face was a mixture of disappointment and anger. It was almost inconceivable for her to imagine what the Votainion Engineers had done. The implications of creating a sentient race smacked of a divine power that she attributed to nature and nature alone. A part of her was intrigued by the possibilities though. Another part of her was outraged at the implications.

“But, why are they dying off?” She finally asked.

“I suspect that they can be genetically programmed to expire at any time the Votainions want. Genetic engineers had toyed with aging genes for hundreds of years. In the last half century the life span of humans has nearly doubled. But there’s no reason why they couldn’t be halved instead.”

Erin held up her hand, “Okay Teach, spare me the elementary genetics lesson.”

Millie frowned at the patronizing name-calling, “So what are we going to tell Tome?”

Erin swung her legs around and faced the cockpit controls. She let out a defeated sigh, “I guess we tell him that we can’t help after all. The poor bastard is nothing more than a pawn in this war, just like the rest of us.”

Millie put a hand on Erin’s lap, “What if he’s actually working for the Votainions right now?”

Erin looked at her, tilting her head in a manner that reminded Millie of the Tomungian.

Millie removed her hand, “It’s possible. I think we need to tell the Army what we’ve found.”

“You can tell them, I’m getting the hell out of here. I’m wanted for kidnapping and steeling government property.”

An alarm sounded on the console between them. Erin quickly threw a couple of switches and activated a center monitor.

“What’s going on?” Millie asked, startled by the alarm.

“Sonar’s picking up something big, coming up from the deep. It’s heading for that escape shuttle.”

Millie watched the green blur on the sonar screen as it raced for the surface. Whatever it was, it was big, and probably not in a good mood, by the look of it. Erin didn’t seem to give it much concern. She monitored its progress and commented indifferently, “It’s using a natural form of sonar to acquire the shuttle.”

“Can’t we do something?” Millie pleaded.

Erin spoke into the ship’s intercom, “Tome, brace yourself, we’re changing course.”

Erin took control of the ship and violently maneuvered into an intercept course with the giant underwater creature. Millie thought she heard the Tomungian fall down in the room behind them. When she heard his cursing echoing down the corridor, she knew he had.

When they were closer, Erin pinged the beast with a very loud burst from her sonar. It jerked towards them for an instant and then continued towards the shuttle. As the Geostar raced to the surface, Millie saw a raft embarking from the shuttle. It moved slowly along, completely unaware of what was heading towards it from below. Erin pinged the creature again with her sonar. The creature ignored it and closed on the metal shuttle.

Centar wasn’t using the biocorder at the time it started sending off a loud, audible alarm. Everyone eyed the tiny machine as he picked it up and pointed its scanner at his feet. The alarm became louder and more irritating.

“There’s something big coming up fast below us. Its heading for,” he was cut off when the sea creature surfaced beside the shuttle, knocking it over and causing a rippling wave that tossed the little raft around in circles. Everyone tried to see out of the two tiny portholes as the raft spun around in the wave.

The creature had a long, slender neck that ended in a head with oval shaped sides and a very large mouth filled with rows of sharp teeth. It didn’t appear to have any eyes; the oval protrusions were areas used for biological sonar. The creature pounded at the tiny escape shuttle, repeatedly clamping down on the hull with its powerful jaws. A mournful howl issued from deep in the creatures’ long neck, breaking the silence of the dawn.

EPO had the raft running at full power for the shoreline. Centar was peeking out the cover flap on the door, weapon in hand, watching the sea creature attack the shuttle with a vengeance. The others huddled helplessly in the center of the raft, their fingers wrapped tightly around rifles.

“So much for the friendly welcome party,” Tamia commented.

“Where’d those skimmers run off too?” Kiloe asked.

Centar leaned back inside, “Something’s distracting the creature. There might be another one.”

Tamia and Kiloe inched over to a porthole of clear plastic in the stern of the raft. They couldn’t really see much more then moving shapes through the plastic. Something appeared to surface between them and the creature.

Centar wasn’t sure the second beast was biological or man-made. It had the smooth lines of a watercraft and the swirling blue and white patterns of an aquatic animal. When the beast turned towards them he could see sunlight flash off tinted windows. It was a submarine craft of some sort. The craft jolted the angry sea creature with what looked like a ball of blue lightning. The creature sank below the waves and did not resurface. The craft then turned and headed towards the raft at idle speed.

Centar ducked back inside the raft again. “Looks like we’ve been rescued, but by whom?”

He tried to contact the recon team, still coming down the crater’s edge, on the wrist communicator, “Wrecker Recon, Wrecker Recon, this is Strike Team Alpha, over?”

There was a static filled burst that rendered the response unintelligible. Centar glanced at Dekka. “They’re still too far away. I wonder who this is.”

“If they can get us off this lake, I don’t think it matters,” Dekka said. The others agreed with his sentiment. Centar pulled out a length of rope to tether the raft to the approaching craft.

Erin gently moved the Geostar along side of the raft and watched as a bearded man emerged with a rope. He looked real familiar, and he was wearing a slate gray jumpsuit. Erin cut the throttle and set the ship on autopilot. She activated the ship’s intercom, as she went aft, “Mil, meet me at the central boarding hatch.”

Millie was standing at the ready with a length of rope and a med kit. Erin took the rope and climbed the latter up to the hatch. A few quick taps on the coded keypad and the iris hatch opened. Another few rungs up the latter and a second hatch opened in a similar fashion. Bright sunlight flooded into the Geostar. Erin reached for a pair of star glasses on her belt and slipped them over her eyes. She pulled herself on top of the ship and tossed her rope down to the man on the raft. As she watched him tether the raft, she realized who he was.

“I’ll be damned.”

Erin bent over the hatch and called down inside, “You better get up here.”

Millie started to climb the ladder, “Who is it,” she asked Erin as she cleared the top.

Erin pointed to the raft, “Your husband.”

Millie squinted down at the waterline and immediately recognized Centar as he started climbing up the side of the Geostar along handrails. He was still carrying his rifle, but it was slung over his shoulder, so he could climb easier. He hadn’t seen who was on the ship clearly yet. Behind him, Lieutenant Kiloe was covering him with his rifle pointing up at the two women on the top deck.

“Centar, how did you find us?” Millie asked; as she reached down to offer her husband a hand. Centar leaned back, taken completely by surprise; he nearly fell backwards into the lake. “Mil, what the hell are you doing here?”

Erin moved in with an arm over Millie’s shoulder, “She’s with me,”

Centar glanced back at Kiloe who shrugged his shoulders. Centar turned back around and took his wife’s hand. She pulled him up to the top deck of the Geostar and into her arms in a hug. Centar glared at Erin, who smiled innocently as she helped the next person up the side of the ship.

“What are you two doing on this planet?” Centar said as they parted.

“It’s a long story, honey. Let’s just say I’m really glad to see you.”

Kiloe took Erin’s hand, letting her help pull him over the top of the ship. He unabashedly starred at her. She flirted with his attention as she helped Tamia aboard the ship.

A laser beam shot past Centar and burned a hole in the ship’s deck at Kiloe’s feet. Kiloe swung around and pointed his rifle down the deck towards the bow. A second shot hit his rifle and melted its frame in his hands. He let go of it and it fell sizzling into the water below.

Tome Tremier was standing behind the forward hatch, pointing a Mark Line Piercer at the crowd of humans. His voice projected from the translator box around his neck, “Throw down your weapons, please.”

Centar slowly took the rifle from his shoulder and set it down on the deck, signaling Tamia to do the same. Dekka was just coming up the side of the ship. He tossed his weapon back to the raft. Tremier motioned for Dekka to climb aboard.

Erin moved past Millie and Centar, “Tome, what the hell are you doing?”

“Stand back Kent,” the alien warned, his antennae firm as the synthesized voice.

Erin paused and then continued forward, slower. “Look, these people are not,” she was cut off by a shot to her left side. Clutching herself, she fell to the deck, swearing.”

“You shot me, you bastard!”

Millie moved forward before Centar could stop her. She took out the med kit she was carrying and began administrating an analgesic to the burn on Erin’s side. Fortunately, the shot had only grazed her. Tome allowed Millie to work, while his Piercer remained trained on the other humans. Erin locked eyes with the alien and pleaded for an answer.

“I am taking this vessel to my people, where it will be used against the human aggressors on our planet.”

Centar, careful not to alarm the alien with any sudden movements, slowly raised his hands in a sign of surrender, “Surely you don’t think we are going to allow that, sir.”

Tome’s brow line furled as his small black eyes narrowed. “You are in no position to allow anything.” Tome activated the ship’s thrusters from the remote station below the hatch, and the Geostar headed for the shore at a modest clip.

Centar quietly spoke to Kiloe who was standing at the ready behind him. “Do you have a shot?”

“Yes, but I need a distraction,” he said, feeling the pistol holstered to his right hip.

Tome did not appear to notice they were speaking, the wind was whipping past and the bow of the Geostar was causing a wake of white water to spray, adding to the cacophony.

From behind Tome came a triangular shaped droid, dripping with water. Everyone saw it at about the same time. EPO extended a thin, mechanical arm and lightly tapped on Tome’s shoulder. The alien turned around, startled and tried to shoot at the mechanical beast hovering before him. Kiloe didn’t miss the opportunity. He drew his side arm and fired two quick shots into the Tomungian’s back. Tome stiffened and then slumped down into the hatch. EPO hovered over him with the barrel of the Piercer clenched in its three-fingered claw.

“Good show EPO!” Dekka hollered into the wind, the droid moved aft, handing the rifle to Centar. Kiloe holstered his side arm and shrugged at Tamia, who smiled her congratulations for hitting his target.

“Good thinking EPO, consider yourself a member of the team,” Centar said to the droid as he moved forward to apprehend the unconscious Tomungian.

“Thank you, commander,” EPO responded.

Dekka patted the droid on its head and examined it for water damage, “Looks like your seals held, any internal water damage?”

EPO swiveled its metal head from side to side, “All systems normal.”

“Thanks EPO,” Tamia said, patting the droid on its back as she moved forward to help Centar. Her smile was wide and inviting.

Dekka winked at the droid’s single electronic eye, “I think she likes you buddy.”

Millie was watching Dekka talk to the droid. She smiled at his teasing sense of humor. Dekka noticed her, “It’s true, all women love hero droids.”

Erin was struggling to stand up, pushing Millie away, “Just let me go, damn it. I hope you guys didn’t kill him.”

“It was only a stun beam, ma’am,” Kiloe said, helping her to her feet. Erin winced again as she tried to put her full weight on her right side.

“Which is more than you can say for what he shot at you,” Millie reminded her.

Erin shook her head as she limped back towards the center hatch, “You think you know someone,” she said out loud, “and they turn on you in a heartbeat. I mean really, after all I risked helping him.” She continued her whining as Kiloe and Millie helped her down the ladder and into the ship.

“The Geostar, now I remember. That was one of the Admiral’s pet projects from a few years back. I didn’t know they actually completed a working prototype,” Centar said, moving on to the ship’s communications gear. “Let’s see if we can raise the reckon team.”

He punched in the Surface Army’s frequency and slipped on a headset.

“Wrecker Reckon, this is Strike Team Alpha. Do you copy, over?”

“Loud and clear, Alpha.” The soldier’s voice sounded startled by the clarity of Centar’s signal.”

“We’ve recently acquired some new wings. Can we give you folks a lift back to base?”

There was a moment’s pause before the reckon team replied, “Standby Alpha.”

Centar and Kiloe looked at each other, “Maybe they’re getting permission from mom,” Kiloe joked. Centar shrugged.

“Alpha, we’re taking fire. Sending coordinates,” the voice broke off; sounds of battle could be clearly heard in the background. Centar activated the data receiver and the recon team’s location appeared on the screen.

“Kiloe get us over there,” Centar said, his voice resolute.

“Dek, Tamia to the bridge. Everyone else, strap in, we’re going hunting.”

The Geostar’s main drive came on line with a bass throb. Lights dimmed in the main holding area where Erin and Millie were strapping into the mini-lab’s contoured chairs. Erin winced in pain as Millie cinched the restraining straps. The ship began to rise before she could get into her own seat. She grabbed the back of the chair and quickly slid into it, aided by the sharp upturn of the ship’s nose.

“I hope they know what they’re doing,” Erin managed to grimace.

“Trust me, they do,” Millie offered, hoping she would be proven correct. She had never seen her husband and his friends in combat, but she had seen them in ‘action’, at numerous agency parties. She knew first hand that they worked well together in sporting events and never missed a chance to perform mischievous deeds to other teams in the process of winning. She was pretty sure this camaraderie was related to how well they worked as a team when the stakes were higher.

“I had a bad feeling as soon as we touched down on that jungle world. Sometimes you get these weird feelings about upcoming battles. I didn’t mention it to anyone, of course, but it was there, kicking around in the back of my mind as I took in the defense Les and his people had set up. I had that same uneasy feeling when Les and I arrived on Negram.”

― Admiral Jake Lusen, Starstriker Command

Taken from an interview with Tule Bremer, Universal Press Corps.

Chapter 22

Dekka and Tamia entered the bridge and instinctively took their respective seats. It was almost as if they were on the Shrike again. Dekka activated the ship’s powerful scanners and after a few adjustments, was able to find the reckon team and transfer a 3D heads-up image to Kiloe’s main viewer. This allowed him to fly into the battle zone and immediately tell who was friendly and who was not. The soldiers all emitted digital signals that could be read by the ship’s scanners and translated into green icons on the screen. Everything living that was not green was cleaned up by the spectrum analyzers and appeared red, which indicated enemy forces.

Kiloe held the ship steady as they came low into the battle zone. Centar had control of the ship’s weapons, not exactly as numerous as on the Shrike, but deadly never the less. Viewing the same 3D image that Kiloe had, Centar carefully lined up his shots on Tomungian warriors and let loose with a barrage of plasma cannon fire. The jungle below lit up with a furious burst of red plasma. Tomungian troops fell in waves, as fire from the sky erupted around them.

The recon team fell back into a group underneath the protective fire from the Geostar hovering above them. The soldiers were drastically outnumbered. They fired outward from their circle in all directions. Tamia isolated them with her bio-scanners and counted thirteen soldiers alive, four wounded and one dead. She looked up from her instruments, “They’ve got wounded. I’m heading aft to see what medical supplies we have.”

Dekka nodded as he scanned a wider area for reinforcement aliens, nothing for several kilometers from the battle zone. “No back-end support from the Tomungians looks like they were not prepared for an extended engagement.”

“Good, I’ll clear you a spot for a landing zone,” Centar said, blasting a clearing with explosive rounds from a standard cannon. Thin-barreled trees fell in a circular pattern a few meters from the recon team. Kiloe moved the Geostar into the clearing. He had to search around for the ship’s landing struts, but found them in time to set down.

Centar pointed the weapons around, searching for more targets. The jungle was clear of enemy aggressors, and just about everything else. Smoke and fire filled the morning air as the landing zone went cold.

“Let’s go see what we can do,” Centar said to Dekka as they unstrapped and headed aft. Kiloe remained in the pilot’s seat, preparing for takeoff at a moment’s notice.

Tamia had the side-boarding ramp extended and was helping bring aboard the wounded soldiers. They were being laid out in the two-person cabins located beyond the main hall of the ship. Millie was scanning each soldier with the ship’s limited medical instruments. None of them appeared critically wounded, mostly leg and arm hits from slugs the Tomungian’s fired from their projectile weapons.

Their leader was a young lieutenant, not much older than twenty. Her face was covered in green and black paint but you could tell she was not used to being under heavy enemy fire. She was trembling from the adrenaline rush of combat. Centar figured she was as new to the planet as she was to the Army.

“Is this all your people, lieutenant?” Centar asked as the last two soldiers carried in the one fatality. The woman watched them put the lifeless body down and cover the man’s face, before she responded to Centar’s question.

“Yes sir, commander,” she said, her dark eyes looking away from her first dead body.

Centar looked around at the grizzled soldiers. There were seven of them still standing, including their lieutenant. Their uniforms were standard issue Army camouflage, modified with local scrub brush and plant fronds. They were all kids, none older than their lieutenant, from what he could tell. The most senior NCO was tending to the wounded along with the corpsman and Millie. Centar took the lieutenant by her arm and motioned for her to come with him to the bridge.

Dekka was tending to the soldiers’ needs, making them feel at ease and as comfortable as possible for the short hop back to their base. He had spent many years in the bush with such outfits and knew they were all still in a bit of shock after being ambushed.

On the bridge, the LT noticed the Tomungian propped up against the bulkhead and drew her side arm. Centar moved between the unconscious alien and the woman, “Relax, he’s been secured and tied down.” She looked down at the alien with contempt; “They can transmit to each other over short distances, where did you find this one?”

“He was with the two civilians on this ship. He tried to take us hostage but was unsuccessful.”

“The bastard was probably leading the attack on us,” she said. She looked around at the bridge before holstering her pistol and taking the nearest seat at Centar’s urging. Centar stood across from her, the Tomungian to his side, on the floor. The woman took off her helmet and brushed back a loose strand of her brown hair. Her green painted fingers were still shaking.

“Lieutenant, you and your people held up pretty good out there. They had you outnumbered ten to one.”

She looked up at Centar, her eyes weary. “I think we surprised each other. They were going in the same direction as us but from a different heading. Private Jurgens was on point; he didn’t know what hit him. We fell back and opened fire,” she broke off her voice cracking.

“It’s okay. Everyone’s safe now, you did fine,” Centar said with a fatherly tone. The woman fought back her tears, “I’ve never been in combat before, I didn’t know what to do, the bullets were ripping through us - I panicked and retreated.”

Centar put a comforting hand on her shoulder armor, “Look, combat is tough, people die; and it’s not as easy as it was in training. You did the right thing. Right?”

She nodded and brushed her eyes with the back of her hand. Centar moved over beside her in his co-pilot seat. “We’re coming up on the base, get your people ready for landing,” he said, turning around to face forward.

She stood up shakily and put her helmet back on. After collecting herself, she moved aft, calling for her sergeant with a stronger, reassured voice. After she was gone, Kiloe eyed Centar, “You old smoothie.”

“Shut up and get us into the pattern,” Centar said. There was only a touch of anger in his voice.

Admiral Lusen’s transfer shuttle set down at Fire Base Tango with little fanfare. Only one aircraft marshaler guided the pilot of the shuttle to set down on an empty portion of the vertical take-off pad. Two ground crewmen scurried out to greet the shuttle and help secure its systems for touchdown. There were no formal greeting parties, no baggage handlers and no assistants to act as diplomatic intermediaries between General Lyons and Admiral Lusen.

The side hatch of the shuttle opened and the boarding ramp extended down to the metal tarmac. Several Starstriker personnel exited, dressed in full combat gear. They took over for the army ground crewmen and posted guard around the shuttle’s perimeter. The personnel served as both crewmembers and security detail - standard procedure for set downs in hostile territory.

Lusen emerged followed by three other company grade officers. He could feel the humidity even before they stepped off the shuttle. Sweat began to bead on everyone’s forehead, encouraged because they were all wearing full combat gear. It would have taken sharp eyes to figure out who was in charge. No salutes were exchanged and everyone carried his or her own field pack.

A single lieutenant emerged from the nearest plascrete bunker and escorted them inside, where she then extended a modest hand to Admiral Lusen. Her uniform was old and worn and her dark eyes had a knowing look beyond her age. Lusen felt the power in her grip and knew that she was at least in top physical condition. Her voice was indistinguishable from a man’s, deep and direct.

“Welcome to Tomungia sir. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

She led the Starstrikers down into the bunker and through a series of earthen tunnels lined with dim yellow lights and floored with interlocking wooden planks. Eventually they reached a series of alcoves that served as living quarters. Each room had two cots, a nightstand and one open-faced dresser. The rooms were built from pre-formed plascrete sections with basic electrical outlets and ventilation systems added almost as an afterthought. All the wiring and ducts were strung along the tunnels for easy access. A simple pull curtain was the only door. It was spartan and cool, certainly not the kind of plush living quarters one found on starships of the fleet.

Lusen took the first alcove and his second in command; Commander Rayburn became his roommate. The other two Starstrikers took the next alcove, setting their field packs on the beds and joining the admiral outside in the corridor.

The Lieutenant spoke again when everyone huddled together, “General Lyons is in the command and control bunker, that’s down this main corridor and to the left. Emergency exits are posted on the walls of your quarters. Any questions?”

Everyone shook helmeted heads. “Okay, I believe only you and Commander Rayburn are on the entry authorization listing for the command bunker,” she said to Lusen.

“Right, these two are at your disposal for perimeter defense.”

The lieutenant nodded curtly, “Follow me then. Admiral, you can find your way okay?”

“We’re fine, thanks for your help.”

They moved on down a different corridor and were soon gone. Lusen and Rayburn headed for the command bunker, passing several haggard soldiers along the way.

Tomungia was considered about as remote of an assignment as you could get and still be planet side. Very few people had even heard of it, much less knew that there was an active Surface Army presence there. The leaders of the Western Alliance knew about it and also realized the importance of protecting it from the clutches of the Votainion Empire. The planet was an uncut jewel just waiting to be polished into a thriving and productive member of the Alliance. Only two obstacles stood in the way of its blossoming into a beautiful world: distance and the Tomungians.

The planet was so far outside the primary trading routes that just getting to it outweighed the costs of any natural resource that could be taken from it. Two thirds of the planet’s surface was covered in virgin rain forests, a fact that made tourism and pharmaceutical companies drool from the profit potential. Not to mention the real-estate values for people looking to get away from the hustle and bustle of inner system commerce and willing to build their own world from the ground up. As soon as the war ended, the distant planet of Tomungia would be open for development.

That is unless the Tomungians have anything to say in the matter. From the outset of the Surface Army’s presence on the tropical world, they were at odds with the only indigenous sentient life forms. Geologists from the first Alliance survey missions to Tomungia had believed that the planet was not old enough to have developed advanced life forms on its own. But there they were, primitive and aggressive, yes, but very intelligent and very anti-human.

Treaties never seemed to last more than a few months, before being broken by Tomungian hive queens with fickle desires. It was enough to drive the negotiation teams crazy with frustration. Multiple hive nations could never agree on just one treaty and would often break off negotiations as they fought each other in minor wars that sometimes lasted for entire seasons. For the most part, the Army was resigned to fending for itself against hostile native hives that would often attack without provocation. The small bases had but one mission aside from self-preservation and that was to signal an early warning of any Votainion aggression in the area. On this day, the army bases of the planet Tomungia would get to fulfill that mission. Troops, who had thought they would never get the chance to see the real enemy of the war, were about to see more than they had ever bargained for.

Lusen and Rayburn were stopped just outside the command bunker by two guards. They checked each man’s identity by scanning their bodies with hand held bio-ident devices. Both men checked out, and the guards let them pass through the heavy plasteel door. Inside the command bunker it was dark and cool. Dark so that people could see the screens and displays mounted everywhere and cool, so that all the computer hardware wouldn’t overheat.

General Lyons came over and shook Lusen’s hand, guiding him over to where he could see all the colorful displays more clearly.

“Jake, welcome to our happy home,” Lyons, said. He nodded to Rayburn.

“This is quite a set up you have here, Les. If I didn’t know any better I’d say I was at headquarters," Lusen remarked, looking around.

“It looks better than it actually is. The truth is we don’t have shit here and we’re not going to be able to see anything in real-time.”

Lusen turned to his second, “Commander, see what you can do to get a tie in with the Thrusher’s CIC.” Rayburn nodded and moved away towards the communications station.

“We’ll set it up so that what my ship sees, we see. That should buy us some valuable time.”

Lyons was relieved to hear that would be possible, “Great. Oh, hey, that strike team of yours, I believe they just saved the rescue party I sent out for them and are headed here in that stolen ship you mentioned.”

Lusen raised a bushy gray eyebrow as he studied the screen Lyons had pointed to. The perimeter defense scanners were tracking the Geostar as it moved nap-of-the-earth towards the base.

“Les, we need to get some data from them and pump it back to the fleet ASAP. It’s probably a long shot, but they just came back from Dezzen and may have the key to getting this Eclipse warship.”

Lyons nodded to someone behind him, “We’ll see that they get here, I think our uplink can burst it to your ship encrypted.”

Lusen nodded, “Thanks. Now what can my teams do to help out around here?”

Lyons motioned to a holographic projector in the center of the room, as if on cue, a three dimensional projection of the base and its defensive perimeter winked on in red and green.

“We’ve got standard motion and heat detection devices on the outer parameter, followed by razor wire fencing and smart mines. Inner defenses consist of manned gun ports and automated anti-armor cannons. We have five working runners that cover the corners of the base; the two that are parted out are sitting on top of this bunker and Air Operations. They’re turrets are still operational. We have two working crawlers, but there really isn’t much room for them to maneuver in this jungle environment.”

Lusen was taking it all in, his dark eyes fixating on weak points as he saw them. The base was set up to defend against land based; fourth world technology aggressors as well as various carnivorous reptiles. It was not designed to take on a worldwide enemy invasion force. The only chance they had would be to take out as many Votainion invasion craft in orbit and in the skies, before they reached the ground. Otherwise, the battle would be over before it even got started.

“Dare I ask what kind of shape your Skimmers and Ravagers are in?”

Lyons winced, “We’re operating at about a sixty-five percent readiness level. Getting parts from army depots being this far out is like pulling teeth. Half my squadrons are red lined for depot level maintenance, the other half are held together with scavenged parts. My maintainers are working miracles with absolutely nothing.”

Lusen was sympathetic, but he also knew it was one area in which he could help.

“Les, I’ve got two fully operational starfighter squadrons and half a dozen aerofighter qualified pilots.”

“We’ve got pilots to spare, just nothing for them to fly. Most of my fighter jocks are heading up the maintenance crews. I don’t suppose you have any extra aerofighters?”

Lusen broke a smile, “Sorry, we just don’t have those in the fleet.”

“No, didn’t suppose you would.”

“The Votainion Engineers had a long history with genetic tinkering. It was one of the primary skills they learned from the writings of the Ancient Ones. Incorporating the genetic codes of many different species found on the planet created the Tomungian race. The dominant life forms were giant reptiles so the Tomungians had many characteristics of those reptiles. Of course every biosphere is different and so the Engineers mixed and matched with DNA from their home world to fill in the gaps. The end result was a convoluted species that didn’t really fit into the environment that they were placed in, and as a result had many issues.”

― Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press.

Chapter 23

The Geostar touched down a few meters from where Lusen’s shuttle was parked. The army recon team departed first with their wounded. A small medical contingent whisked them away into the nearest bunker. A larger security contingent was waiting for Tome Tremier and Erin Kent. They were taken into custody and led down to the makeshift brig, used more for disciplinary purposes then for actual prisoners of war.

On the bridge of the Geostar, Kiloe was shutting down various flight systems.

“You know, this baby could be quite handy for us. A few modifications here and there, and it could easily be a strike ship.”

Centar seemed to agree, “Have the weapons crew load her to the gills, I have a feeling we’ll be using every available means to defend this place.”

Kiloe’s smile was ear to ear; he loved putting guns on starships, almost as much as he loved discharging them in combat. “No problem, boss,” he said, heading for the flight line to track down some weapons troops.

Dekka and Tamia were hovering over Centar, waiting to get their assignments. Centar said to Tamia, “See what you can do to help get those crates in the air.” He pointed out the window to the ragged Skimmers and Ravagers parked on the tarmac.

Tamia was incredulous, “You have got to be kidding, sir.”

Centar raised an eyebrow, “If you don’t think it can be done,”

“Oh no, I’ll think of something,” she said, quickly reading Centar’s disappointment with her reply.

“Good, we don’t have much time so,” Centar said, brushing her out the door.

She eyeballed Dekka before leaving. He simply shrugged. If she wanted to be a team player, she had to be able to carry her weight in times like this. Dekka sat down across from Centar, who covered his eyes with his hands to concentrate. After a few moments, he spoke without looking up, “Where do you think you can best help out?”

Dekka considered the question carefully before answering, “The command post.”

Centar lowered his hands and looked up, “What?”

“I’d like to help direct the air campaign, and I can think of no better way than to run things from there. If we had more planes, I’d do it from the air, but considering what we’re up against,”

Centar stopped him with a positive gesture, “You’re right. Okay, get with Lusen and see what you can do.”

Dekka managed a reassuring smile, before noticing Centar’s wife enter the bridge. He got to his feet. She had a worried look on her face. Centar got up and took her hand, “What is it Mil?”

“There’s something I need to tell you about the Tomungians.”

Dekka started to excuse himself until Centar insisted that he stay and hear what his wife had to say.

“It would be easier to just show you.”

They convened around the minilab in the main hall of the Geostar. Millie had what she needed on the lab’s display panels. She quickly explained to them why Erin had abducted her and what they had found concerning the similarities between the Tomungian DNA and Votainion clone DNA. Everyone knew that Votainion clones only lived for twenty years, before they started to degrade enough to lower their fighting efficiency. While they were absorbing that, she told them what she thought was happening.

“The Votainions created this race and are capable of manipulating them using this telekinetic ability. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they are now choosing to invade this planet. Clearly they intend to use the Tomungians as slave labor for building their colonies on this planet. That has been their pattern for every other planet they’ve conquered, only Tomungia had no sentient race to enslave.”

Dekka finished her thought, “So they made their own race.”

Millie nodded; her blue eyes searched her husband’s bearded face for a response. Centar chewed on his lower lip before responding, “Does the hive queen know about this?”

Millie shook her head, eyes narrowing. “I don’t think Tome was quite capable of explaining it to her. He’s pretty tech savvy, but who knows how capable she was of understanding him.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Dekka asked his friend.

Centar smiled, “I’m thinking we’re going to see the Queen.”

Dekka nodded, his dark face lit by a white-toothed smile.

Millie was terrified. The last thing she wanted to do was go waltzing into an alien hive and tell their queen that they were all part of a Votainion breeding experiment and that’s why they are dying off after twenty years. That would not go over very well. Neither would the fact that the entire planet was about to be invaded by some of the nastiest, deadliest soldiers of the Votainion Empire.

The three of them departed the Geostar and headed down to the command bunker. At the entrance, the guards refused entry for Millie. Centar asked them to summon Admiral Lusen. The nearest guard paged inside and was answered by a scratchy voice, “Let them in Corporal that's an order!” The guards moved aside after opening the blast door.

Centar ushered his wife inside the darkened bunker, “Thanks.”

Lusen waved them over to the communications station. Commander Rayburn was finishing up with the data link they needed to transfer the information obtained from Dezzen. Lusen reached for Dekka’s hand and shook it firmly. “Good to have you boys back with us.” He shook Centar’s hand next followed by a hug for Millie.

“I’m sorry we didn’t track you down sooner, Millie. Believe me, I tried.”

“I knew you would be trying sir. Thanks,” She stepped away from him, uncomfortable hugging someone in full combat gear.

Centar acknowledged Rayburn with a curt nod. The two men had never really liked each other in the past, so neither one was particularly glad to see the other. Centar recognized the data link set up and started unloading the memory cells from his uniform. Dekka did the same, helping Rayburn connect them to the network.

Centar motioned for Lusen to join him a few feet away from the others in the room. In a hushed voice he asked if there was a secure room they could use. Lusen’s expression changed to that of a granite statue. He looked around and then headed off to the far corner of the room. There was a black hatch with a high security lock on the outside. Lusen placed his right palm over the red glowing plate and it changed to green and the hatch popped open.

Inside the small conference room, a single red ceiling fixture lit the room. There was another hatch on the far wall of the empty room. They stood and waited for the security sweep to clear them. A buzzer sounded and the light changed to white.

“What’s on your mind son?” His voice echoed off the walls of the tiny room.

“We need to set up a meeting with the Tomungian Hive Queen. Millie has discovered something alarming about the Tomungians. It sounded to me a little farfetched, but I remembered what Admiral Kelley said about the Next Generation technology, and I think this may be a part of it.”

Lusen motioned for him to continue, while he moved slowly around the room listening.

“She did a DNA analysis on the Tomungians and found alarming similarities to standard Votainion cloning techniques. Except what they’ve accomplished here is akin to playing God. The entire Tomungian race is nothing more than a Votainion biological experiment of some kind.”

Lusen came about and faced Centar. “NexGen technology is far more involved than either you or I am cleared for. Kelley and his people are here too,” he motioned to the other hatch, “If they know about this, why haven’t they warned us about it?”

Centar shook his head at the rhetorical question. “Ask them,” he said, motioning to the hatch with his steel blue eyes.

Lusen flinched. He hadn’t been inside this room out of respect for his friend General Lyons. Lyons was not cleared for NexGen and Lusen suspected that he hated the fact. It was not good to be restricted from parts of your own command. He balled his fist and slowly turned around to face the hatch. It had a palm scanner and an intercom. He put his hand on the scanner and pressed the intercom, “This is Admiral Lusen, request permission to enter.”

The hatch automatically opened and the tiny room was flooded with white light. Lusen entered, followed somewhat hesitantly by Commander Havic. The hatch closed automatically behind Centar as he stepped through the passage.

“Jake, Centar, come on in,” a friendly faced Admiral Kelley greeted them. “We’ve been expecting you.”

It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the high light level. They were in a narrow room as clean as any starship conference room. The walls were covered in sound absorbent material and all light was indirect. One would never have expected such an opulent, high tech room to be located on a remote Firebase on a planet so far from the Alliance. All the latest technology and creature comforts of inner world planets; vid screens with current news programs, live from the deep space net, the latest music piped in with aural fidelity that only the best money could buy, fresh fruit and vegetables lined the counters. It was like a different world all together.

There were several Intel troops sitting relaxed in plush seats with easygoing smiles on their faces. Centar was instantly furious. He wanted to leave, knowing these people were living it up while people outside were living in extreme field conditions and making do with threadbare equipment.

Lusen’s fists were balled even tighter than before. He knew what was here and he knew he was always welcome in places like this. But he could never bring himself to stoop down to their covert, underground society.

“Admiral, what do you know about the Tomungian race?” Lusen asked, keeping his anger suppressed for the moment.

Kelley pointed to several monitors, “Genetically engineered by Votainion biologists to serve as workers for the development and colonization of this planet. They are controlled by remote servers located in the Riesling Hive. We’ve been monitoring their movements for several years now, after our field agents discovered their true nature.”

One of the younger Intel members monitoring the data on the screens chipped in, “As the invasion looms closer, we’ve picked up an increase in activity from all the hive nations. We know the Vots are controlling them, but we haven’t been able to figure out just how.”

Centar scrutinized the real-time movements of infrared signatures representing the different groups of Tomungians. It looked to him like they were gathering for a large battle.

“My wife says they use their telekinetic powers to communicate with each other over short distances, maybe the Vots are using something similar.”

Kelley and the tech kid looked at each other. “Your wife was coming here to study the Tomungians?” Kelley asked in astonishment.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Lusen explained to the others.

“How did she learn about the Tomungians?” Kelley asked, folding his arms around his expansive chest.

“One of her former students and a Tomungian abducted her from Selene,” Lusen stated.

Kelley and the tech exchanged wide-eyed looks again. “Where are they now?”

Millie saw her husband and Admiral Lusen emerge from the shadows at the back of the room. There was another admiral with them, dressed in a black and silver uniform. As they approached, Centar moved to her side, “We’re going to talk with Erin and the Tomungian, I think you should come along.” Millie nodded, as she watched the new, portly admiral scrutinize her with beady black eyes.

“Millie, this is Admiral Kelley, he’s with Fleet Intel. He wants to know how Erin came in contact with the Tomungian, what’s his name?” Lusen asked, by way of introduction.

“Tome. Tome Tremier is his name. Hello Admiral, I’m Doctor Millie Havic.”

The man bowed his head politely, but did not offer his hand. Millie didn’t like the way he eyeballed her, as if she were a suspect in a criminal investigation. When he spoke his voice was as cold as his face, “Doctor, please come with us.”

As they neared the cell where Erin and Tome were being detained, they could hear her invective, “You can’t keep me in here when the attack starts, I’m an Alliance citizen I know my rights!” It brought a smile to Millie’s face; for once Erin was the captive being forced into a situation that she could not control.

Erin was about to launch into another tirade at the unseen guard outside her cell when she heard people approaching. “Who’s there? I demand to be taken off this planet!”

“You’re in no position to demand anything, Ms Kent,” Admiral Kelley stated as they approached the glowing red security bars at her cell.

Erin backed away from the cell’s energy bars and moved closer to Tome, who was sitting with his oval head in his hands, looking down at the dirt floor. He looked up when he heard Kelley speak.

“We want to ask you some questions about mister Tremier, here.”

Erin saw Millie behind the two admirals, with her Starstriker husband. “Mil, what’s going on?”

Millie squeezed past the admirals and looked sympathetically at Erin, “Erin, they just want to ask you about where you met Tome. It could allow them to help his people.”

Erin stayed close to the alien, “I met him in a bar on Kew.” She looked down at the gray colored alien and put her hand on his shoulder. “He was lost and more than a bit scared. I didn’t ask where he came from or how he got there, only what his story was.”

Admiral Kelley moved aside and switched off the energy bars. He came into the cell and stood over Tome. “Mister Tremier, would you please come with us.”

Two security guards came over and flanked the Admiral with their weapons drawn. Erin stood between them her stance defiant, “I go where he goes.”

“We have no further questions for you Kent. If you’re lucky the court will allow you some leniency when they try you for breaking into a secure space dock and stealing government property,” Kelley said, nodding to the guards. They physically pushed her aside and took Tome away. Erin sat down on the plascrete bench defeated. Millie wanted to comfort her but the Admiral re-armed the bars and everyone started to leave.

In the tiny white airlock leading to the NexGen room, Lusen, Kelley and Havic stood with Tremier. Tome was frightened, his antennae twitching and his mandibles grating like a human would grate their teeth.

“How did you get to the way station on Kew?” Kelley asked the alien.

Tome’s translator box sputtered, “I don’t know. I was taken from my hive home and put into a dark place. The next thing I knew I was in a strange place, surrounded by humans and other aliens. This box was around my neck and it let me communicate with whoever I spoke to in their words.”

Kelley took hold of the translator and examined it. He pulled on the necklace and it gave way. He turned the device around carefully and then handed it to Havic.

“It’s a Votainion design,” Havic said, recognizing the Empire’s handiwork.

“Did you see who had taken you?” Lusen queried the alien in a softer tone.

Tome slowly moved his head sideways and closed his round black eyes. “Yes, she was a human female.”

“Could you identify this woman, was it Kent?”

Tome opened his eyes again, “It was not Ms Kent,” his translator firmly said from Centar’s hands. The hatch opened from the NexGen side and Commander Reyna stepped out. Tome’s eyes lit up like he had seen a ghost, “It was her!”

“Skimmer planes were well made and could be adapted to almost any environment. The Surface Army used them just about everywhere they were stationed. It was not unusual for pilots to learn field level maintenance for them, but on remote stations, dedicated maintenance officers were hard to come by. Many pilots developed strong attachments to their Skimmers in a way that guaranteed that they would go the extra mile to make sure the planes were properly cared for.”

― Excerpt from: Aerofighters in Profile, Volume 24

By Anders Blake, War Fighters Museum.

Chapter 24

Tamia lowered herself into the Skimmer’s snug cockpit. It was a tight fit even for her slim figure. The fighter plane smelled of oil and aero-gas. The flat gray paint was worn off all the flight controls and the most heavily used switches and levers. The black instrument panel had holes where avionics had been removed. Crew chiefs had marked up various instruments with colored pens. She felt like she was sitting in a museum piece from before the war.

The head’s up display had been taken out completely, leaving a gaping hole on top of the instrument panel. Someone had welded a metal cross hair in the center, she didn’t know if it was intended as a joke or as an honest substitute for the targeting computer. There were marker pen squares on the forward windscreen denoting targeting boxes in different colors. She had to laugh; it was a half-hearted attempt to simulate the head’s up display.

The flight controls were traditional stick and rudder type, with the stick having a woven wicker cover that was well broken in with sweat. All the primary flight instruments were located in their correct positions, except for the attitude gyro. It was bolted on the top of the instrument panel, to the right of the cross hairs. She doubted if it even worked at all.

A dirty-faced mechanic pulled himself up to lean into the cockpit. He smelled of grease and sweat. His coveralls had the sleeves cut off and he was chewing something that looked like a metal pin. “What do you think of her?” He asked, slurping on the pin.

“I’ve seen better stuff in a bone yard.”

The man gave her a nasty look and for a moment she thought he was going to take genuine offense at her remark. “Yea, but this baby really flies. No, seriously. It will actually take off and dance among the clouds,” he motioned with his hands, “I know, I’ve taken her up myself,” he boasted

Tamia looked askance at the man. He was obviously some kind of Army greaser with delusions of grandeur. “Right,” she said, not wanting to encourage him any further.

Someone called out from behind the greaser, “Captain Chase, three forty-nine is ready for a run up.”

He waived acknowledgment and started to climb down, “Nice chatting with you Fleet. Oh, this charmer is mine, so find your own plane, okay?”

Tamia nodded, completely dumbfounded. Captain Chase was the Tree Topper, Squadron Commander. She scrambled out of the cockpit and hurried across the scorching hot flight line to the plane hooked up to a ground generator. Captain Chase was already on the tarmac under the plane’s fuselage.

“Captain Chase, I’m Lieutenant Tamia, one of the loaner pilots from Starstrikers. How can I help out around here, sir?” She squatted down to see under the plane better.

“For starters, you can throw on some coveralls and help me get this bucket ready for battle. We need to grease the plasma tubes in the wings and charge them up. Know anything about aerofighter weapons systems Lieutenant?”

Tamia stood up and unzipped her gray jumpsuit, “A little, but my specialty is flying, not maintenance.” She found a bunch of extra coveralls hanging on the generator and picked the cleanest of the filthy. They were all sleeveless and some had holes in their knees.

“Around here we have to be mechanics first and pilots second. You’ll find the tech data on those data pads.”

He pointed out from under the wing to the tool kit sitting on wheels beside the generator. She slipped out of her jumpsuit and into the oversized coveralls. The zipper was broke so she made a quick belt out of a length of fiber cable. She caught him peaking out from under the wing at her. He was not shy about staring.

“You Fleet kids cut a nice figure. Can you fly as well as you look?”

“Better,” she said, catching herself flirting.

Kiloe was able to recharge the Geostar’s weapons but much to his chagrin, had found no extras to install. He was finishing up the pre-flight checklist under the ship’s bow, when a handful of soldiers approached, all decked out in full combat gear.

“Lieutenant Kiloe?” asked a young sergeant.

“That’s me, what can I do for you Sarge?”

The soldiers gathered around, there were five of them and they were all packing serious firepower. “We’ve got orders from an Admiral Lusen, to report to you for a search and kill operation.”

This was news to Kiloe. His communicator beeped for attention, “Kiloe.”

It was Dekka, from the command bunker, “Have the S and K troops showed up yet?”

“Yea, what’s going on?"

“Get with their LT, she’s got the details, Commander Havic will be joining you.”

Kiloe shook his head. He was looking forward to some air-to-air fighting, not air-to-mud insertions. “Rog,” he answered.

Kiloe wrapped up his checklist and showed the soldiers aboard the Geostar. They were carrying enough explosives to take out a small town. He made sure each soldier had safed all their weapons before climbing aboard. As the last man climbed up the boarding ramp, their LT walked up, equally armed.

“Kiloe, I presume? I’m Tash, good to know you,” she said, reaching to shake his hand.

“Likewise, I’m sure. What’s the game plan here?”

She handed him the extra plasma rifle she was carrying from around her shoulder. He checked it’s charge and safed it. Did all soldiers carry unsafed weapons wherever they went, he thought? She watched him and then safed her weapons. “Commander Havic will be here shortly. We’re heading into the Riesling Hive to take out the Queen. Intel thinks if we kill her, the Tomungians will be free from Votainion control.”

Kiloe really didn’t know what she was talking about, the last mission he was on they were saving the Queen of some damn bug planet.

“Okay, do you have coordinates for this hive?”

She dug into her camouflaged shirt and pulled out a navigation chip and handed it to him. Her hands and face were painted for war and her uniform looked like she had just came in from an extended stay in the jungle. It was the same uniform issued to males but somehow, a well-trimmed female form could make any uniform interesting. Her jaw line was firm and her dark eyes caught a glimmer from the sun. Kiloe decided in that brief moment that he liked her.

“Thanks,” was all Kiloe could think to say as he took the chip from her fingers.

Centar came up from behind and handed Kiloe an arm full of uniform items. He was dressed like the soldiers himself. “Put these on, I’ll fire up the drive.” Before Kiloe could respond, two security guards brushed past him with Tome Tremier in restraints and boarded the starship. Kiloe juggled the uniform items up the ramp as it rose up into the side of the ship.

Admiral Lusen stood before the holo-projector table in the command bunker and rubbed his temples. His forehead pounded with a throbbing headache. The battle hadn’t even started yet and already he felt like he was taking a beating. Admiral Kelley’s people were holding Commander Reyna in the brig and drilling her for all she knew about the alien she helped off this world and into Alliance space. She claimed that she was working for someone deeper in the Next-Gen program and was not at liberty to disclose this person’s true identity.

That was when Lusen decided that he had heard enough. He ordered Havic to take the Geostar into the alien hive and assassinate the Queen. He didn’t care what it did to anyone else’s plans for the Tomungians. All he knew was that he could not defend the planet against aliens that could be under the direct control of the enemy. Kelley was furious with Reyna and ready to execute her for being a Votainion spy. The only trouble was, she knew so much about the NexGen program, that if she were an enemy operative, she may have already compromised their plan to entrap the Eclipse.

Lusen squeezed his temple harder and tried to forget about what that could do to their chances of winning this battle, much less the war. He had to concentrate on executing his battle plan and let the fates decide who wins or loses.

“Get me Captain Caiden, please,” he said to the Comm officer.

Mace Caiden’s face came on a screen behind the holo-projector table. He appeared at ease and ready to do battle. Lusen silently wished that he had Caiden’s confidence. “Mace, are your ships ready?”

Caiden’s reply was as rock steady as his gaze, “We’re locked and cocked, Admiral.”

“Good. Listen, we’ve got a situation developing down here. If things start to fall apart up there I want you to get your ships clear of this system, understand?”

Caiden’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What kind of situation, sir?”

“I can’t discuss it over an open link. Just promise me that you won’t stick around if we go down.”

Caiden nodded his consent, but Lusen could tell he did not agree with the order. Lusen terminated the connection and turned to General Lyons, “Are we ready here?”

Lyons stepped forward and cleared his throat, “As ready as we’ll ever be, Jake.”

Lusen winced and took a sip of his coffee someone had thoughtfully gotten for him. He wished he could smoke a cigar, but the room wasn’t fitted for it. Lyons patted him on the back and pulled a cigar from his uniform and handed it to his friend. “I remembered that you preferred Arcadian cheroot,” he said, offering to light the cigar.

A smile came to Lusen’s face for the first time since he set foot planet side. He clipped the top off the large cigar and whetted the other end in his mouth. After a few quick draws, it lit up nicely and Lusen inhaled the aromatic fumes, savoring the rich flavor.

“Thanks, old friend. I really needed this.”

Lyons returned the smile, motioning to the display, “We’re ready to launch the Skimmer and Ravager squadrons.”

Lusen noticed the camera views of the flight line. All the aerofighters were manned and ready for take off. He looked across the room at Fighter Ops, where Dekka gave him thumbs up.

“Okay, launch the fighters!” Lusen ordered, feeling his confidence return.

“Perhaps it is easy to see the mistakes that Lord Krugger made in the Battle for Tomungia when we look at them from across the great gulf of time. But for those who lived the battle, it was intense and immediate and they had little to no time to second-guess their moves. Like a timed game of strategy, they made decisions and moved on, living or dying by them.”

― Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press.

Chapter 25

Tamia realized she was still wearing her coveralls after she had taken off and was gaining altitude. The life support troops had strapped a g-suit onto her as she stood waiting for her Skimmer to finish warming up. She felt dirty and had grease stains from head to toe, from changing out her starboard wing cannons at the last minute. She caught a glimpse of herself in the rear view mirrors situated along the top of the canopy. Her face was smudged with grease and slightly burned from the tropical sun. The helmet and oxygen mask covered most of her face, thankfully.

The Skimmer was holding together quite well, much to her amazement. The engine pressure was normal, controls were functioning. A quick weapons check told her the cannons were installed correctly, if not perfectly aligned and calibrated. She had to stop thinking like a perfectionist and learn to make do with that little she had to work with. That was what Chase had told her over and over again as they busted ass to get her fighter and another airborne in time for the battle.

There were twelve ragged Skimmers from the Tree Topper squadron, loosely formed up into a stacked “V” formation. Two planes had refused to take off and one blew an engine on run-up. They fared better then the two seat Ravagers from the Tree Dancers squadron, who had only managed to get eight planes airborne.

The Skimmer was a compact, lightweight, aerofighter with large wings and twin turbofan engines. It carried six laser cannons in the wings and bare minimum shields. Capable of supersonic speeds and off-axis turning, Skimmers were known for their maneuverability and speed. Ravagers were a two-person version of the Skimmer, with heavier shielding and larger caliber cannons. Ravagers were known for their lack of maneuverability, sluggish performance and heavy firepower. Designed primarily as an air-to-ground attack fighter, the Ravagers seemed well equipped to turn back any offensive the Tomungians could muster against the base. The Skimmer squadron was usually found offering aerial observations and air cover for the reckon units on patrol in the jungle.

The army pilots, who flew both types of aircraft, were very comfortable in their position of total air dominance on Tomungia. They were about to learn what it took to maintain that aerial dominance in the face of an overwhelmingly superior enemy force. The Votainions would be flying the most advanced aerofighter of the war, the Reemer variant. Flat sided, fast and maneuverable, the Reemer model aerofighters were the latest incarnation of a design that stretched back before the war. The new versions were smaller, lighter than and twice as powerful as the First Generation version.

Moving in pairs, the Reemer pilots were able to use overwhelming speed and firepower to pounce on Alliance fighters and devastate their ranks. Each Reemer had the ability to tie its defense network into other Reemers to employ large networks of fighters all moving to the same game plan as if they were being moved as one player. The system was effective even if fifty percent of the squadron was lost or damaged. Alliance pilots had learned to deal with the networked fighter attacks and over time developed effective strategies to thwart them. Unfortunately for the defenders of Tomungia, most of those tactics involved far more planes and far better tactical control then they would be getting on this day.

Several miles above Tamia’s aerofighter squadrons, in low planetary orbit was the GCU Thrusher. The Starstrikers command ship was acting as their air combat controller. Sensitive scanners in the Thrusher’s hull monitored all friendly and enemy fighter positions, directing the Alliance aircraft as needed. The Thrusher’s secondary purpose was to offer some resistance to the Eclipse, who would undoubtedly be controlling the invasion force from orbit. For this mission she deployed her full squadron of twenty-four Tieron starfighters, whose job was to attack the landing craft before they could enter the planet’s atmosphere.

As a last ditch effort, the Thrusher was authorized to take on the Eclipse ship-to-ship. The idea was not as suicidal as it might have sounded to someone not aware of the Thrusher’s anti-warship capabilities. No other ship in the Alliance fleet was better equipped for direct dueling with enemy warships. The Thrusher was designed for use like a battle ram to penetrate enemy defenses and press forward with a deadly salvo of concentrated firepower. All of the Thrusher's ship-to-ship weapons pointed forward and were intended for direct assault.

The Tomungian star was one of the first stars known to have a planet around it, having been discovered by the ancient, non-space-faring astronomers of Selene. They had used ground-based observations of the star’s wobble, to detect a massive terrestrial planet that orbited close to the yellow star. Knowing full well that such a planet was too close to the star to have life, they passed up any further serious study, while looking for closer, more suitable planets to harbor life. Had their meager instruments been trained on the star in the decades that followed interstellar exploration, they would have surely detected Tomungia, orbiting well within the star’s life belt.

It wasn’t until after the interstellar war with the Votainions had started, that the newly formed Western Alliance re-discovered the Tomungian system. The planet’s close proximity to the home of the Votainion race, in the night skies of all three Alliance planets, assured that it would be looked at more closely thereafter. In the second half of the war, Tomungia’s military advantage became clear and the Surface Army had occupied the planet continuously for the past twenty standard years. Until this point in time, the encroaching Votainion Empire had never paid the system much attention.

The Votainion Empire was growing, and its share of natural resources was beginning to dwindle in the face of their unyielding expansion. The planets of the Life Belt were becoming more important for the expanding Empire. Increasingly, the Belt Planets were becoming a major focal point of the war. More and more border skirmishes along the so-called, Neutral Zone, were ample evidence of the Empire’s intentions.

Krugger stood before the massive main viewer on the Eclipse’s bridge. The cloud swept jungles of Tomungia filled the floor length viewer. He had just given the word to commence the invasion, moments before. He stood with his arms behind his back in a relaxed, confident manner, eyes following the steady stream of invasion craft that flew down to the surface of the planet. They were meeting little resistance as the landing ships and their fighter escorts descended on the human occupied base.

There was a starship hovering in low orbit, but he gave it no concern. It would have made a valiant attempt to stop the invasion fleet but it could never take out a warship as powerful as the Eclipse. Krugger switched the view to include a tactical overview of the Tomungian system. His twelve-ship armada had entered the system and was splitting into three attack formations to pursue the modest Alliance threat. Krugger watched as the first formation engaged the single enemy cruiser and its twin destroyers.

Warship battles were not very sophisticated affairs. Each opposing force positioned itself to fire on the enemy. Lobbing massive spheres of energy at each other until one side or the other prevailed. How crude this all seemed to him now that they had the phasing capabilities of the Eclipse. If he had chosen to, he could have taken on the entire invasion with just his ship. But intelligence reports from covert agents had warned of a trap in this system. To appease the Emperor, Krugger had allowed the modest frigate armada to join him in the battle.

The battle unfolded in the typical fashion, his frigates gaining the upper hand easily over the Alliance destroyers and single cruiser. But the longer he watched the glowing red and blue icons representing the ships in the battle; he soon witnessed the destruction of one of his frigates and one of his destroyers. The Alliance lost both of its destroyers and the remaining cruiser was moving away from the scene.

Krugger moved his attention to the second engagement, as six enemy vessels easily destroyed his entire four-ship group. The remaining enemy warships came to the aid of the surviving cruiser and another battle ensued. It was like watching a computer simulation, with the exception that the ships being destroyed carried real people. Krugger wanted to intervene, knowing full well that the most aggressive warship captain in the Alliance commanded the surviving cruiser. He wanted to phase in beside the cruiser and watch as the Eclipse’s cannons broadsided the enemy ship into oblivion. It’s poor captain never having the time to maneuver his ship to counter the attack. But Krugger exercised restraint. The battle was far from over and so far the enemy had shown no hint of a possible trap.

Captain Caiden was losing control of his starship. The GCU Glory was going down in a blaze of glory. Five critical hits to her hull resulted in a crippled ship that any other captain would have abandoned, but not Mace Caiden. As long as the ship had power, he would press on with an attack. Pulling away from the battle, he paused briefly; to let his fire suppression and battle damage crews assess the ship’s condition. The Glory limped along at sub-light speed away from Tomungia and the two remaining enemy warships. Green gasses leaked from her star drive tubes, like blood from a wounded animal.

The mangled hulls of two destroyers, the GCU Bristar and GCU Folley, littered space where the battle had raged. The tiny life pods from both ships slowly descended on the green and white orb of Tomungia. Two remaining red-orange Votainion warships converged on the Glory, themselves limping from severe battle damage. The frigate, VCF (Votainion Combined Fleet) Lord Krie and the destroyer, VCF Kartoom, separated in a slow motion attempt to surround the leaking GCU Glory.

Caiden stood over the tactical console and directed efforts to regain maneuvering capabilities for his starship. The bridge was filled with smoke and debris from exploding electrical relays. Four bridge crewmen were dead, their bodies being hastily carried away by over-taxed medics. One of the dead was his First Officer, killed while trying to save the operations console from erupting in flames. Caiden always managed to rally the remaining troops to cover the positions lost to fallen comrades. In this case, he assumed all command responsibilities, consolidating his power as he saw fit.

The tactical screens were down and he was relying on individual console controls to see what the enemy warships were doing. He switched the main viewer to a stern view in time to see the Frigate moving to his port side and firing at him. Where was the Destroyer? He adjusted the side sweeping scanners to view astern. There she was, trying to make an end run, listing to starboard in relation to the galactic plane, from the last volley Caiden’s gunners had inflicted on her.

“Helm, bring us hard to starboard, thirty degrees. Tactical, ready starboard guns, fire on my mark.”

“Aye, Captain,” said the Helmsman.

“Sir, we have only two ready cannons on that side,” Tactical stated, the panic beginning to crack her voice.

Caiden stood tall, he straightened his gray uniform and turned his face to stone, “Ready what you have, Lieutenant.”

The Tactical Officer nodded, issuing the command via her headset microphone. Her eyes met his and she felt a sudden calm overwhelm her entire body. Caiden turned away, and moved to the nearest porthole. He could see the Frigate’s gun tubes warming up for another volley. As the Glory came about, her starboard face lay wide open for a shot from the Lord Krie’s forward cannons. Her stern provided the Destroyer, VCF Kartoom, with a narrower, more difficult shape to hit.

“Fire starboard!” He shouted above the din.

The single main gun and a secondary gun let loose their fury at the bow of the approaching Frigate. Caiden shielded his eyes momentarily, from the blinding barrage of energy. The green spheres of matter impacted the head of the Votainion vessel, shattering the bridge and leveling the forward sensor platform. In the last few seconds before the GCU Glory had fired, the VCF Lord Krie had tried to pull away. It was a terrible mistake. Debris and colored gasses spewed from the neck of the fatally hit warship as it rocked with secondary explosions.

“Fire astern!” Caiden shouted, before the second warship could realign itself.

The second volley broadsided the VCF Kartoom knocking out its starboard weapons and sheering off its communications array. The warship broke off its pursuit and fell away, out of weapons range for the GCU Glory.

On the long-range scans, four more enemy warships were plying towards the Glory. It was not over yet. From orbit around the gas giant, came a Cruiser and a Destroyer Escort, winners of the second engagement. Caiden raised the Cruiser, GCU Cummings, on the Comm link.

“Cummings, this is Glory, regroup at Tomungia.”

The face of the Cruiser’s Captain appeared on Glory’s main viewer. Captain Elizabeth Petrus was a silver hair woman who wore a staunch look of determination on her tired face. Her group had fought a hard-won battle in the shadows of the planet known only as IS 55T-2. Four enemy warship hulls littered space around the inner moons of the planet, the only evidence of their victory.

“Caiden, we thought you were going to lose that one,” Petrus said in her usual dry tone. Her hazel eyes still shone with an inner fire.

“Not my time yet, Liz. Let’s see if we can get the Eclipse to play.”

Petrus nodded, switching her screen off. The reserve force of two Light Destroyers and one Cruiser moved swiftly from the outer rim of the system to Tomungian space. Caiden brought up the Cruiser’s Captain on his main viewer.

Captain Doris Anon’s expression was worried, causing her pale skin to blush as red as her hair. “Mace, we’re on our way in. Are you all right?” She could see the smoke swirling around behind Caiden.

“We’re hanging tough, Doris,” Caiden coughed from inhaling the rancid smoke of burning wires, “It’s time to engage the Eclipse.”

Anon’s concern deepened as she saw her tactical screens, “Mace, I’m not letting you lead this charge from your ship. My scans show that the Glory is close to melt down. We’ll take the point, I’m surrounding you with my Light Destroyers.”

Caiden finished another harsh cough and waved at Anon’s image, “I’m coming aboard, launch your fighters now, I’ll see you in a few minutes, Glory out.”

The Cruiser carried two squadrons of starfighters, totaling twenty-four of the attack variants. Limited munitions and storage space left few options for their continued use. Each Destroyer carried two flights of starfighters, totaling twelve. Destroyer Escorts and Light Destroyers were not equipped with starfighters. They did carry shuttlecraft and a few small rescue craft.

Captain Anon had her attack starfighters armed and standing by. A quick nod to her Controller set in motion the launching of her fighter squadrons. Two by two the tiny single person starfighters rocketed out of the stern hanger.

Caiden intended to transfer his command to Anon’s Cruiser, the GCU Capella. In order to do so, he first had to find a Captain for his own wounded starship. With his First Officer dead, the only logical choice was the Chief Engineer. But her hands were full keeping the ship alive and in motion. Caiden called for the senior Stern Controller and put him in charge of the ship. They passed each other in the lift tubes about midship, the Stern Controller heading for the bridge and Caiden heading for the shuttle bay under Stern Control.

Every starship had an auxiliary command and control room on their stern. Stern Control oversaw the fighter squadrons and acted as a back up for all of the primary bridge controls. Only Alliance starships had Stern Controls. It allowed them to continue a battle without support from a starships head, in the event of separation or destruction of the bridge.

Tamia stayed on Chase’s wing as the two Skimmers dived toward the jungle deck below. Four Reamers were following them in close formation. They were painted with standard Votainion interference camouflage; gray and dark green blotches with thin white lines cutting across the gray areas at an angle. At low altitudes over jungle terrain, it made the planes very hard to get a visual on. Their undersides were painted a light smoke gray color, to blend in with the sky. Skimmers and Ravagers were painted with a similar blotchy pattern of gray, dark green and tan. Visual camouflage was still in use, despite the high-tech methods used by modern armies to detect the presence of and lock onto, enemy aircraft; proving the timeless value of tricking the eye of one’s enemy.

Tamia’s Skimmer shook with another direct hit to her stern deflectors. She could feel the plane protesting under the stress of the dive and prayed that the wings would not sheer off. The Reemers were closing for the kill as Chase waved a visual signal to her from his cockpit. Both Skimmers pulled up in unison, screaming over the primordial trees, snapping branches as they dodged treetops. They each went off across the landscape in opposite directions. Two of the four Reemers could not pull out in time and slammed into the jungle. The other two split up in order to continue chasing both Skimmers. With the odds reduced to one on one, the Skimmer pilots had a greater advantage.

Tamia pushed her ragged fighter hard, yanking and banking as pilots called it, in an effort to shake the enemy fighter from her back. Trees blurred past her canopy on both sides as she pushed the little fighter to its limits. A quick glance at the mirrors over her head told her the Reemer was still riding her tight. She became bored with the maneuvers and pulled back on the wicker-covered stick. Her Skimmer rocketed under full burn up into the white cumulous clouds that hung low over the jungle.

The Reemer was still behind her, falling back, as it’s engines labored under the snub nosed fighter’s full weight. Tamia spun around and cut her throttles, letting her fighter slip backwards towards the ground. The Reemer zipped past her, its weak under belly exposed to Tamia’s newly installed laser cannons. She fired all six cannons in multiple bursts. The Reemer erupted in flames and banked over into a shallow dive that ended in a fiery grave.

“Scratch five,” Tamia said over the comm. link as she regained altitude and scanned the area for Captain Chase. He had played a similar trick on his opponent and was gaining altitude to join the fray. “Scratch six. How we doing Control?” Chase asked, as he slid into formation off Tamia’s port wing.

“The landing ships are heading for the base, close and engage.” Came the disconnected voice from the GCU Thrusher.

“Roger. Tree Toppers form on Topper five. Let’s get it done.” Chase said, as if he had a chore to do.

“Votainion war drones were very effective at killing Alliance troops and creating fear on the battlefield. Unless you had overwhelming firepower, you could not easily take one down. They were force multipliers in that one drone could do the killing of several Viper Troops. Nobody liked to engage them directly. There was something undignified in getting killed in battle by a heartless machine. Not that being killed by another living being was any different, both ways left you dead after all, but the drones were so impersonal and so accurate that troops often didn’t feel that they had any chance at all in fighting them.”

― Colonial Dan “Razor” Rossen, Surface Army,