Galactic Defenders- Perseverance

by Michael Mishoe

  Galactic Defenders

  Perseverance

  Book Two of the Defenders Trilogy

  Michael Mishoe

  Copyright © 2019 Michael Mishoe

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter 1

  Date: July 13, 2132

  Location: In the Control Tower of Freedom Bound, the Defender-controlled holding facility positioned in the Atlantic Ocean

  ​“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Captain Adam Rickman said, excited to hear what his first officer had to say. “What’d you find?” Several other captains of the fleet, who had rushed up to the central hub of the massive Holding Facility, waited at his side.

  ​Typing as she spoke, Commander Trisha Hayley answered, “As you know, sirs, we have been going through the Ribiyar’s database for any useful information we could find. And I think we found just the ace that we need.”

  ​An image materialized on the screen at the front of the room. An orbital image of the Earth appeared before homing in on an area in the African continent. The image continued to zoom closer, until the projection displayed an aerial view of a Ribiyar facility almost completely hidden within a cluster of trees that surrounded it.

  ​“According to this data, this small installation holds a great variety of materials and minerals from across the globe,” she said.

  ​“And, exactly how does this help us?” Captain Max River, formerly the commander of the recently-downed Tsunami, demanded. “It was my understanding that we could use those Genetic Modulator things to make all the materials that we need. Why would we need to waste the time and resources to raid this place when we can make whatever they have there?”

  ​“Well, you are right on that matter,” A tall, young civilian spoke as he pushed up his thick glasses, hovering near the officers. “For the most part, anyway.”

  “And who are you, exactly?” River snapped. Though Rickman didn’t know the civilian personally, he recognized him as one of the many that had joined the ranks once the Holding Facility had been wrested from the grasp of the Ribiyar.

  Based on how River had behaved after being rescued, Rickman fought the need to reprimand him over his recent hostile behavior. I have to give him some slack though, Rickman reminded himself. Losing your ship like that and almost his entire crew… that’ll mess with anyone’s head. And while civilians would normally be sectioned away from the rest of the military, the war was quickly depleting the number of enlisted officers they had at their disposal. From what he had seen in the morale and productivity, the choice of merging the two had already paid off and was well worth the adjustment to protocol.

  ​“I’m Andrew Anderson,” he replied. “And let me just say, thanks a ton for freeing me and everyone else out of our pens. The living conditions they had for us ‘organics’ makes Alcatraz seem like a vacation resort… not that I speak from experience, of course.” Anderson cleared his throat and then continued, “As I was trying to explain, while it is true that the majority of materials held at this Ribiyar ‘warehouse’ can be made here with our fabricators, there is one important material that we can't create: uranium.”

  ​“Uranium?” Captain John Whitefield asked. “Isn’t that used in the construction of nuclear warheads?

  ​“Very good, Captain,” Anderson replied, smiling broadly. “I’m glad you know your facts behind nuclear science. Uranium is used as a reactant to create its explosion. Unfortunately, it cannot be created using the fabricators. As my colleagues and I have discovered in our tests, the chemical makeup of uranium isn’t stable enough to survive the molecular reconstruction.”

  ​Captain Rickman thought a moment before asking, “How much uranium is stored in this place? How many nuclear warheads could we make from them?”

  ​Anderson shrugged. “It just depends on how much a team can bring back, and how successful our attempts to alter the material into usable fuel for the weapons. If the mission is successful, I’d wager we’d produce at least a small handful.”

  ​Rickman felt a rush of excitement as he thought of the applications of what he was hearing. If we can retrieve that material and destroy several ships with one nuke, we may have enough to blast almost the entire Ribiyar fleet out of orbit!

  ​“Commander Hayley, I want you and Anderson to gather all the data you can on this storage facility, plot a path for an extraction team, and have it ready within an hour,” Captain Rickman ordered. “I want you two to present this to the other captains of the fleet. They should be part of this decision. Make sure the Colonel Brown and his other officers are present as well. They’re probably the best candidates for the job and they are going to need as much information about this as possible.”

  ​Everything now in motion, Rickman turned on his heels and left the Control Room. There was much that he needed to do to prepare Endurance and the rest of the Defenders for combat, and little time to do it.

  ​Commander Trisha Hayley didn’t hesitate to follow Rickman’s order. She quickly got to work sorting out all of the logistics, her mind racing and her heart high in her chest.

  ​This work is my chance to help. To make the Ribiyar pay for what they’ve done. For attacking our planet. For killing billions across the globe. Her chest tightened and she typed even faster. But especially for New York City. For my family.

  Images of the Ribiyar base and the local terrain nearby filled the screen, grounding her thoughts, as she sighed. She could only hope Brown and his soldiers, including her former captain Jack Vade, could make the journey to the Ribiyar facility and bring the weapons they desperately needed to turn the tide of the war.

  ​Assuming, of course, they had the strength to return at all.

  Location: The Battle Coordination Hall, aboard the Ribiyar Warship Ji’Co, in orbit of Earth

  ​“Far’Tas Qua’Ton?” High Order Ki’Ra asked. “How much progress have you made in your efforts to regain control of the computer matrix of Holding Facility Tri’La?”

  He, along with several dozen other Ribiyar commanders, had gathered in the Battle Coordination Hall for a briefing on the status of the invasion and the strategies that would improve the success of the Ribiyar forces on the surface.

  ​Ki’Ra’s attention was fixed on Interfacer Far’Tas Qua’Ton, a Ribiyar with multiple external computer processing blocks on his outer structure to streamline his technological interfacing.

  ​Qua’Ton, head of the invasion force’s Mainframe Division, stood at his podium silently, calculating the best way to respond. “I’m afraid to report, High Order, that all our efforts thus far to wrench back control of Tri’La has been completely unsuccessful. It even appears that they have been able to use Tri’La’s own anti-intrusion protocols to shield itself from our attempts of contact.”

  ​“Then,” Ki’Ra replied, “it would seem more aggressive matters need to be implemented to deal with the organics.”

  ​“What do you propose, High Order?” one of the commanders on the lowest level in the Hall asked. “Do you wish our warships to bombard the planet’s surface and purge the organics from orbit?”

  ​“I have a determined a more successful course of action,” Ki’Ra responded firmly. “Tell me, how long would the bombardment of the planet’s surface take before the free organics were purged from existence?”

  ​“Approximately point five-two-three rotations of the planet, High Order,” the commander replied without hesitation. “Assuming of course, you would allow the full deployment of our forces’ arsenal. Total annihilation would, of course, require a more precise attack and a bombardment on all fronts to ensure no survivors.”

  ​“And that is why I have something different in store for the organic
s,” Ki’Ra responded firmly, his conviction strengthening his resolve. “They do not deserve the swift death that such an attack would give them. They deserve to be hunted and not just by our might alone. That is why we are to deploy the fiercest warriors among us.”

  He paused and the hall hung in suspense.

  “The Lit’tra.”

  ​The hall erupted in surprise and fierce excitement. Anticipation quickened their spirits for the battles to be fought beside these warriors.

  ​ “We shall deploy them to aid our hunting parties as they scavenge across the planet for the organics. But first, I believe it appropriate to allow their forces to feel the Lit’tra’s might where they will feel it the strongest. Soon, the Nexus will be operational, and the rest of our brethren will come to cleanse this system. But in the interim before they arrive, we will not hold back. We will deploy an attack squadron to siege Tri’La, accompanied by two dozen Lit’tra. And when they attack, the organics will feel our might like never before.”

  Chapter 2

  Date: July 13, 2132

  Location: In the Control Tower of Freedom Bound, the Defender-controlled Holding Facility positioned in the Atlantic Ocean

  ​The sun, high in the air, shone down onto Freedom Bound. The sun glimmered brilliantly off the silver metal and continued past the towering pillars and onto the sea beyond them. Many people would have been awestruck by the beautiful site and greatly tempted to spend to enjoy the view for the rest of the day.

  ​But the scenery was the last thing on Jack’s mind.

  ​All he saw before him was suffering.

  ​Beyond the walls of Freedom Bound, close to the ocean, a single tree had escaped the scorching destruction of the Ribiyar Dozens of people were gathered around it, some weeping, others silent or softly talking amongst themselves. The plant had become a universal monument for everything the survivors had endured. Once the battle had been won, many had gathered here. The leaders of the military had spoken heartfelt and moving words to them all, in remembrance of those that had laid down their lives to bring them this first real victory.

  ​Silently making his way through the crowd, drawing a few curious glances at his appearance, Jack made it to the foot of the tree. Lowering down on one knee, he placed a rose, one of the many recently made from the Fabricators, onto the ground.

  He dropped his head and his eyes clenched shut.

  ​I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, my friend. Thank you for leaving us something to give us hope.

  ​A few more moments of silence and he slowly stood up. His soul, whatever he had left in his metallic frame, felt a little lighter from the closure.

  He turned and found himself being stared down by a middle-aged woman less than a step away from him.

  ​“What do you think you’re doing here?” She growled.

  The woman was thin, dressed in grey plainclothes. Her short, disheveled and greasy hair swayed as her body almost trembled from the emotions that raged inside her.

  ​“I’m paying my respects to someone I lost, same as you,” he said gently.

  ​“But you’re not the same as me. Or any of us,” she said, gesturing to the other people. “You freak. These metal aliens come raining down from the sky, taking everything from us. And we’re here trying to get some consolation, and you just come strolling by,” she glared at his bare metal skin, “not even trying to hide how close you are to those monstrosities!”

  ​“I was changed because I was trying to survive the invasion, and those under my protection. That disturbs you?” he asked, struggling to hold his frustration.

  ​“You could at least come out after dark. Or better yet, just stay plugged into your charger until your master needs to send out his toy again. It’d be nice if you have some consideration for how you make us all feel!”

  ​A man in the crowd spoke up. “It… may be better if you just left.”

  One after another, more people agreed, until the whole crowd was almost shouting at him to leave.

  ​Jack felt his right hand slowly clench into a fist at the sight of them. There was no way the woman, or anyone else for that matter, was going to bait him into lashing out.

  ​But it didn’t make the humiliation and frustration any easier.

  ​He began walking through the crowd, bombarded on both sides with shouts and harsh cries, when he heard a distinctive, “Hey!”

  ​The crowd turned around, and in a shimmer of swaying light, Victor Davidson decloaked, fully armored in his Dark Serpent suit.

  ​“How on Earth, or any planet, are you people this thick-headed? Are you seriously outing this guy because he looks like a freakshow? Look, he’s not the best eye-candy around, for sure, but there’s plenty of other reasonable reasons to hate him. His bad sense of humor, for example.”

  ​“Great job defending me,” Jack mumbled to himself.

  ​“You should be with us!” The woman said, getting up in Victor’s face. “Why do you care about him?”

  ​Victor ripped off his helmet, held it under his left arm, and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t. You’re the ones who should care about him. He’s basically the reason you still have the breath to even shout at him. All of you! And if you’re so stupid that you can’t control your tongue,” he ripped the Phantom Blade off his belt as the energy blade sparked to life, “then maybe I should just cut it out.”

  ​The woman’s face blanched. The crowd gasped and slowed backed away.

  ​What are you doing Victor?

  ​“So if you want a freak to hate and fear…” Victor said, pulling back his arm, “Fear me!"

  He swung his sword, and the energy blade shot off, flying just over the heads of the crowd. The people scrambled out of the area, the woman tripping over herself as she fled, and soon he and Victor were alone.

  ​They both glanced at each other for a few moments, total silence.

  Without warning, Victor burst out laughing, almost doubling over.

  “That’s the best thing I’ve seen in a long time, Jacky! Did you see how fast those chuckleheads ran? I was like,” he mimicked his stance with his energized sword, “and she was like,” he then formed the exaggerated, surprised face of the woman, “and then just floored it out of here!” He twirled his sword in his hand several times, lightly hitting the ground and sending up some dirt. “I haven’t had a good laugh in so–”

  ​“What were you thinking Victor?!” Jack shouted, cutting him off. “You can’t just go around and doing that!”

  ​“And just let them keep terrorizing you? Whatever you want boss," he replied, his voice growing surly. "You’re welcome for getting them off your back, by the way.”

  ​“If you’re waiting for a thank you, that’s not going to happen.”

  ​“Fine, since I wasn’t asking for one.” Victor shut off the Phantom Blade, replaced it on his belt, slipped his helmet back on, and shook his head wildly. “I didn’t do it for you. I have a reputation, and it’s time I get it established here as well. Besides, I wanted that lady to finally shut up. Her voice was annoying.”

  Victor strolled forward and bumped Jack’s shoulder with a fist as he passed.

  “By the way, Syvon wanted me to fetch you. Apparently they got on a new assignment for us and want to brief us on the stats.” He spun back to face him, walking backwards. “Don’t want to keep them waiting, do ya?”

  ​Victor turned back towards Freedom Bound to resume his stroll.

  Jack moved to follow but paused. He took one last glance to the memorial tree, shinning in the light.

  ​Rest in peace, Olo.

  ​“After hearing all of what you’re telling me, I just have one thing to say,” Victor calmly stated.

  Jack braced himself, knowing an outburst was eminent. His fellow team members, Larry “Beef” Rogers, and Major Buck Aru, sat in some fold-out chairs as Jack stood. Lt Commander Simon Stone and Colonel Vern Brown stood behind the other captains of the fleet and Native American Ambassador Dakota Zephier.
Blitz, siting calmly by Vade’s feet, watched the area around him calmly.

  Taking in a deep breath, Victor finally shouted, “Have you all lost your minds?!”

  ​“On the contrary, Mr. Davidson,” Anderson replied from the workstation above the floor, where he and Commander Hayley controlled the visual displays for the briefing. “All of the people involved in the creation of this plan are in perfect mental health. I know this because of the thorough examination Doctor McGriffen and her medical staff gave us all shortly after capturing this base.”

  ​“Yeah well,” Victor said, leaning back in his seat, “I’d like a see a second opinion on a few people around here.”

  “Admittedly,” Anderson continued, “while this course of action is… risky at best, it is also the best chance we have to arm ourselves against the Ribiyar. We need more nuclear warheads, and the storage base in Africa is the closest, and quite possibly the only, place where we can retrieve the uranium we need to create the warheads.”

  ​Victor grunted. “Even with the odds against us as much as they are, are you seriously saying this is the best plan you can come up with? What we should be doing is planning a siege at a Ribiyar base, maybe an assault on another holding facility, while they’re still recovering from our victory here. Instead, you want to send us deep into the wilds of Africa, on nothing more than a glorified errand for parts you need? Honestly, is there any other mission that we can –”

  ​“Enough, Victor,” Captain Syvon interrupted. A spark burned in the mercenary’s eyes, and he grudgingly clamped his mouth shut.

  ​Syvon sighed. “We all know the conditions for this mission are less than ideal, but this mission must be accomplished if we are to further our campaign against the Ribiyar. It will also allow us to further plan ahead and see how to proceed against their forces.”

  ​As Rickman began to respond, the entire room began flashing in bursts of ocean-blue light, and a wailing alarm screeched through the Holding Facility’s comm system.