In light of the uncertainties, Sly held two more council meeting. Each was attended by a different set of participants in an effort to obtain a more balanced view of all the options and opinions. After all the meetings were held, a short list of the best options was circulated among the participants and a final meeting was held to help discuss the selected course of action. It was not a meeting to discuss options, it was a meeting to strategize for war.
“We are about to embark on a dangerous path,” Sly told them. “War is never, ever, a good idea, but sometimes it appears to be the least egregious option. Only time will decide whether our decision is right or wrong, so I want to be perfectly clear about the path we are taking. We are going to confront an invader we know nothing about. Their technology may be vastly superior to ours, and an encounter with them may only serve as provocation for them to seek out Centoria, when perhaps they would not have otherwise.”
“But to do nothing would be against everything we hold sacred; Centorians have always rendered aid in times of crises. This time is no different. Bert will explain how we intend to engage the invaders.”
Bert took control of the meeting and proceeded to give a full review of all the information they had collected, including reports from away ships that were in the Sote-kiliet when the invaders first arrived. Additionally, he read the most recent report from Paxim that arrived before the meeting began.
“As all of you are aware, the outer end of the Sote-kiliet is disappearing one planet at a time. Our intention is to send a squadron of Alpha Class gunships to that Sector under Standard Military Intervention Protocol to monitor inhabited planets in the subsector near Mortia. If we discover who, or what, is causing the planetary disruptions, we’ll hail them and demand they cease and desist immediately.”
“At this point, we have no way of knowing if negotiating will be profitable. It is highly likely we will be in an all-out shooting war two days from now. Sly will remain on Centoria to help coordinate our local defenses and provide strategic support. I will be the away team coordinator in charge of the operation in Sote-kiliet as well as captain of one of the away ships. The other captains have been notified, and Sly, our mission coordinator, will have a meeting with them later this evening. Any questions?”
“How are we supplying light support for the Alphas,” asked Arton.
“Ten short range stealth cruisers will be assigned to each Alpha. Their captains are included in the meeting tonight.”
“Only ten stealth cruisers? That’s a little light on support, isn’t it?” asked Donnally, who was puzzled by the deployment numbers.
“It is, but other issues are at play. We can’t afford to send more firepower to Sote-kiliet when it may be needed elsewhere. This new situation with the Korganraim Giants complicates matters tremendously, and until we figure out what they are up to, we’ll have to be conservative with our ship deployments. Gun ship and stealth fighter crews will begin flight prep at 0700 IPT tomorrow. Any more questions? Fine, enjoy the rest of your evening. I’ll see most of you at the launch pads tomorrow morning.”
Most of the crew members arrived early the next day. Though their gunships were in a constant state of readiness, this mission was different. They were going to engage an enemy they knew little about, and because of that, everything on the ships from food rations to ordnance, was checked and rechecked. By 11:30 IPT the crews had finished their duties and everyone was given the remainder of the afternoon to visit with their families before boarding for takeoff. Then, at 6:30 IPT Bert addressed the fleet.
“Attention. Attention everyone,” bellowed the fleet’s communication systems. Standby for a message from the away team coordinator.
“Good evening everyone, this is Bert Warrington. I trust you had a nice afternoon with your families and friends. I want to thank each and every one of you again, for your commitment to this mission. In the Centorian tradition, all ventures such as these are voluntary, and as we expected, had we taken every volunteer, the size of our fleet would have tripled. We believe we have selected the best team for this particular set of circumstances.”
“Time doesn’t permit an explanation of why some were picked and not others, but suffice it to say, this is today’s A-team. If anyone has questions regarding staffing, they can ask them during the debrief after we’ve returned.”
“Regarding that last point,” continued Bert, “let’s be sure we all understand our intention is to stop the destruction of planets in the Sote-kiliet. We will be deployed until that is accomplished, or until we determine a better course of action. We don’t know what we’re up against, but that isn’t unusual is it? Prepare for lift-off in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes later, twenty Alpha Class Gunships, with more firepower than any other two hundred ships combined, were headed toward the Sote-kiliet. Their new translocation drives meant they would arrive at the Mortia Subsector in record time; four hours, twenty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds - long enough to get settled-in for a long nap before the unknown.
“You were on that raid of the Zin Charr Warehouse on Numeria weren’t you?”
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that” said Mark. “I’m a little distracted by the ship.
“This your first time on an Alpha Class Gunship?”
“Yes, first time. I’m Mark.”
“Gary, Gary Remlap. Nice to meet you,” he said as he shook Mark’s hand. “I’m told you were in on that raid at the Zin Charr Warehouse on Numeria?”
“Yeah, I was there.”
“If the stories I’ve heard are anywhere close to being true, that was pretty ballsy.”
“Our friend’s father and brother were in that warehouse, so we had plenty of incentive to break in. It was a little ballsy, but we didn’t have any choice.”
“I’m sure you thought that was true, but still, no one has ever tried it before.”
“Well, we had plenty of help and some of your mates showed up to lend a hand. It took all of us to pull it off, believe me.”
“How did you pull that off? And, what was it like – the warehouse I mean?” asked Gary.
Mark spent the next thirty minutes telling Gary how they met up with Joe, Guzzle and Dex and how they managed to raid the Zin Charr’s warehouse, rescuing Nita’s dad and brother, seventy-one other Centorians, and over a hundred other innocent victims. Romanticizing what happened would have been a mistake, in fact, he downplayed their success; chalking it up to a series of fortunate incidents and dumb luck.
“All the cards were in the right place at the right time,” said Mark as he finished the account. “You know I’m from Earth, right?”
“Earth? I’ve never met anyone from Earth. You guys don’t travel much do you?”
“No, we don’t. Before this trip, the farthest an Earthling had been was to our own moon, and 240,000 miles is not that far. Of course, that doesn’t include our Mr. Einstein who apparently flitted around the universe without anyone except Ernest Hemingway knowing about it. Anyway, my friend Wayne’s ’57 Chevy Nomad station wagon now has more space miles on it than all of Earth’s previous space trips combined. And that includes our research satellites.”
“You think he’s still out there, your brother and your friends?” asked Gary.
“That’s the only reason I’m here. Sly assigned me to Arton’s stealth cruiser so I could be here in case they’re found. Honestly, except for one previous time on Arton’s ship, when we were getting hammered over Numeria, I’ve never been on a spaceship before. Not counting the Nomad of course, since a car is a road-hugger and clearly not a spaceship.”
“Your friend’s Nomad may be unconventional, but that Jump Starter of yours made it a spaceship,” said Gary. “I may be going out on a limb saying this, but now that you and the others have been 'out here' you may find road hugging a bit boring when you get back to earth.”
“If we get back. No, when we get back. I’m going to find my brother and my friends and we’re going home.” The determination in his voice s
uggested Mark had some kind of plan, but he didn’t, and what was worse was he knew the odds of seeing them again were getting smaller and smaller every day they spent in the Sote-kiliet.
“Say, we have a couple of hours to kill, how about I give you a tour since you’re not familiar with our Alpha Class Gunships,” said Gary.
“That would be great, I’d like that.”
Gary escorted Mark through the enormous ship, pointing out areas of interest along the way. “This is a deep space vessel, so we have a small entertainment area,” said Gary as they walked through a double wide passage into a nicely appointed room. To the right was a small bar with a dozen stools. The bartender greeted them as they entered. On the far end was a medium sized stage that would accommodate a small band, or disc jockey. The space in between the bar and stage was set up like a small concert venue with rows of chairs near the stage and standing height tables near the bar.
“Those panels on the ceiling are actually a dance floor that can be lowered when needed. This place is usually hopping when we’re in transit, but I think everyone is a little edgy about our mission. Say, we have time for a drink. If you’d like one, we should have it now. When we’re outbound the bar always closes two hours before arrival.”
“I wouldn’t mind something.”
They sat at the bar and talked about the ship while they sipped their tea. Gary explained the new shield system in intricate detail, comparing it to the old system and how the new system was far superior.
“How do you know so much about the shields?” asked Mark.
“My uncle Zed is one of the engineers that designed the new system. There’s nothing like it; at least that we’re aware of. You’ll meet Uncle Zed later when we visit the systems control room. When he starts talking way over our heads, smile and nod, and pretend you understand. The man is a bloody genius and doesn’t realize it,” laughed Gary.
When they got to the control room it was just as Gary had predicted. Zed was gracious and showed them around the room, pointing out how they monitored the ship’s systems. When he started talking specifically about the shield system he became extremely animated. Later Gary said it was how he could tell his uncle loved his job. Zed never talked about the shield system without getting almost giddy with excitement.
One the way back to their quarters Gary took Mark through the weapons area. A catwalk suspended high over the stealth cruiser launch pads gave them a perfect view of the prep area, launch silos, missiles and some of the gunnery positions. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those,” said Gary, pointing to a particularly large piece of ordnance. “Scuttle has it the gunships’ captains are hesitant to use them.”
“Why is that?”
“They weren’t designed for surgical strikes like the Sacrifice and Slayer missiles, when one of those hits a target, nothing is left. The payload crew nicknamed it 'The Silencer'. One of those babies is capable of incinerating the largest military ship in the galaxy. Rumor has it, when it was first tested on the hull of an old gunship, the destructive power was beyond anything they had imagined.”
“I was told no one on the testing team spoke a word for several minutes after initial detonation. Apparently, it was at the top of the predicted power range. When our Chairman was informed about the test results, he ordered every captain in the fleet to attend a special briefing on the missiles and established a strict protocol for their use.”
“That sounds like something Sly would do.”
“You say that like you know him,” said Gary.
“We’ve met. He saved my life once, when we wandered into a meteorite field before everything got obliterated.”
“Believe me, from the stories I’ve heard, you’re not the first person to have Sly pop out of nowhere and save your life. When you have a chance, ask Bert about the time he first met him. It’s one of the best stories about Sly I’ve ever heard. A little scary too, considering the circumstances and the outcome.”
As he finished the sound of a volley of gunfire pierced the air, followed by a brief pause, and then another volley.
“What was that about?” asked Mark, looking around to see if anyone else was concerned.
“Gunner practice. Let’s go find out who’s in the cradle.”
Mark followed Gary along the catwalk and down a several sets of stairs to an interactive computer screen near the missile silos. Gary entered a passcode and made a few quick keystrokes while Mark looked on.
“G-7, that’s Hank’s position. He’s getting into some kind of trouble. I think we ought to help him,” said Gary. He flashed a mischievous grin, then bolted down the hallway.
They went about fifty yards and turned right into a smaller hallway that opened into a gunnery block. One of the crew members was on his hands and knees in front of an open panel, fiddling with a keypad that flashed codes each time he entered a sequence.
“Hey trouble maker, what are you breaking now,” said Gary, as he and Mark approached.
The crew member looked over his shoulder, and as he got to his feet, replied,” I’m trying to program this computer to jettison all unnecessary personnel through the nearest airlock. I’d run if I were you.”
Gary gave him a bear hug and turning toward Mark said, “This is my brother Hank.”
“His older brother,” said Hank as he held out his hand to shake, “he conveniently leaves that part out.”
“So, is it broken yet?” asked Gary, grinning.
“Yep. But now that you’re here I can fix it. Climb in the cradle.”
“Why don’t we let Mark give it a go?” suggested Gary.
“Wait a moment, I’ve never used one of these,” said Mark, “maybe you should do it.”
“Nonsense,” said Gary, who turned to his brother. “You trying to refine the swing and sway?”
“Of course. The system is in gunnery practice mode. Climb in and fiddle with the controls. I can watch the movements on the screen inside that panel,” he said pointing to the opening. “While you’re shooting, I can fine tune the response curves.”
“Shooting? Are you sure about this?”
“Yeah Mark, it’s a gunner cradle. That’s what it’s designed to do. Besides, they are bloody indestructible. You can’t hurt it,” finished Gary, making a sweeping motion with his hand toward the gunner’s seat they called the cradle.”
“You want to give me a briefing on this thing?”
“No, it’s usually better if a first-time user blasts away.” Gary had a monstrous grin on his face. “You’re gonna love this.”
Hank resumed his position on the floor in front of the open access panel and touched several icons on the computer screen as Mark climbed into the cradle.
“Fasten the seatbelt. The dang things won’t work unless the seatbelt is fastened. Safety first!” said Gary, who feigned a somber look. It might have implied he was deeply concerned, had he not grinned from ear to ear.
Mark climbed into the gunner’s seat, fastened the seat belt and grabbed the joystick. A panel to his left was flashing a message “Initiate gunnery practice”. Without hesitation, he reached over to the screen, tapped the flashing icon and selected “Full Scale Assault #1” on the menu.
“Oh boy, you’re in for a real treat,” said Gary as the screen turned red and several projectiles were instantly launched from somewhere below the gun turret.
Mark watched them for a moment then grabbed the stick after the three targets deviated from their initial trajectory, spread out in a cone shaped pattern, and turned back toward the ship. Initially, he was mesmerized by the flight of the targets, then he realized they were advancing toward the ship much faster than they had left. Mark pushed the joy stick to his left and squeezed the red trigger mounted in the pistol grip.
The gun responded with a dozen bullets as the turret turned, strafing the air over the incoming target. He lowered the gun barrel by pushing the stick forward a smidgen, and fired again, blowing the incoming target to pieces. As he pushed t
he stick sideways to his right, the other two projectiles crashed against the side of the ship, showering the glass around the turret with debris. “Crud,” he said.
The screen to his left flashed again and sounded an alert as three more projectiles were fired and “Incoming hostiles” flashed as the alarm sounded. This time Mark was ready, but the scenario was different. The targets had been launched in different directions and as they made their turns to attack the ship, their flight patterns weaved into crisscrossing approaches. With his first pass, he targeted the lead projectile and easily destroyed it.
Then, as the flight of the two remaining targets veered into a crisscross, Mark aimed at the place he thought they would meet and fired a volley, destroying both targets at once. But before he could celebrate, the incoming alert began screeching again and the computer screen to his left flashed “Incoming hostiles”, while plotting their locations in a 3-D graphic. During the previous firing sequence, the training program had launched five additional targets at different angles and elevations and they were already turning toward the ship.
He picked out the lowest target and strafed through it, missing high. But another strafing and the target was riddled with bullets and fell apart. Mark fired again, this time destroying the target. Without hesitation, he swung the turret to his right and strafed a crossing pattern upward through two of the targets as they approached. Then, he swung the turret as far up as it would go and sent a string of bullets toward an incoming target before it hit the ship.
Without thinking Mark swung the turret farther to his right, looking for the other projectiles, but his previous strafing pattern had destroyed both of them. The final target was destroyed when he swung back to center-neutral position and intercepted the closing target with a volley of bullets.
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