Smith's Monthly #8

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  “As I told you back at breakfast,” Brian said, “I still think this is all a dream, too. But I’m afraid it’s not.”

  His face got very serious and the cold, intense look she had seen in the nursing home was now in full force on this younger version. “You’re going to get a quick dunk in the deep end with this mission, I’m afraid. We don’t have much time.”

  “Why?” she managed to ask. “What do I need to do?”

  “I’ve got to get back to the command center,” Brian said. “Carl will get you checked out on the Photon Projector Beam weapons and what the enemy ships look like, and how to destroy them.”

  “Enemy?” she asked.

  Now she was suddenly afraid again. She had never fired a weapon before and she didn’t know if she could ever do it, let alone kill something.

  Brian touched her shoulder in a reassuring way and it did calm her down a little.

  “Good luck and I’ll see you after it’s all over.”

  With that, he turned and strode down the corridor, a man completely in charge of his world.

  She watched him walk away. She had no idea that Brian had such force inside of him. At the age of eighty-five, such force was often hidden, or pounded out of a person.

  She wondered how people saw her at eighty-four.

  She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and turned to Carl’s smiling face. “Well, show me what to do and how to do it and I’ll see if I can carry my weight.”

  He laughed. “The Captain said you’d be a good addition to the crew. I think he just might be right.”

  “He did, huh?” she asked, glancing back in the direction that Captain Brian Saber had gone, as Carl led her off in the opposite direction. “Nice to know.”

  Then all the way down the corridor, she rejoiced in the feeling of actually walking without support again.

  At one point she almost started skipping but managed to restrain herself.

  Dream or no dream, simply walking again was the best Christmas present she could have ever asked for.

  SEVEN

  December 25th, 1956

  Equivalent Earth Time

  Location: Deep Space

  THE COMMAND CENTER of The Bad Business was a picture of efficiency of design. Brian occupied the big center chair facing a wall of screens, controls and computer pads covering both arms of the big chair. He was the pilot and he could make his ship almost dance from that chair.

  The Command Center was actually fairly small, with only four stations. Marian Knudson, a stunning redhead from Wisconsin, sat in the chair to his left, tucked up under a wide board of control panels and display screens. She did everything, often a half second of when Brian needed it, as if she could read his mind.

  In the chair to his right was Carl Turner, the best navigator in the fleet. And one of the smartest people Brian had ever met.

  Brian loved this small command center more than any place he had ever been in his entire life. It was the brains and heart of a very powerful warship, sitting in the top of the head of the bird-shaped ship. He liked the electronics smell, the sounds of faint alarms as systems went through checklists, and he really loved the feel of the thick, leather chair that perfectly fit his young form.

  But at this moment, all three of them were moving as fast as they could as he took his ship through and at the enemy as hard and as fast as The Bad Business would go.

  The Astra Warsticks were long, thin things that resembled a straw with something stuck in both ends more than a spaceship. At full length, they were about the same length as his ship, and very deadly.

  He dove in again at one of them, twisting to give his gunners open shots, then quickly used evasive maneuvers to avoid getting hit by the Warstick Slicing Energy Beam weapons that shot from each end of their ships like orange fluid blown out of a drinking straw.

  He was trying to do everything in his power to make this a fight, but he doubted it would last long.

  “Damn,” Carl muttered under his breath on Saber’s right as Saber barely avoided flying directly into one of the energy beams from a Warstick.

  Damn was right. That had been too close. He swung the ship out wide and made a pass along the length of a turning Warstick, letting his gunners hammer at it.

  Commander Marian Knudson, his second in command, sat silently on his left, her red hair pulled back off her face, her fingers dancing over the control board, making sure that he had all the information and was in contact with all the other ships at any moment, knowing where they all were.

  The three of them, the only three in the control room, worked like a single person. They had done over twenty missions together and really liked each other.

  But little good that was going to do them today.

  Brian knew that no one at Earth Protection League Command thought he, or the other twenty EPL ships sent to this battle, would survive.

  The Astra had decided to take six League systems. They had given Earth ten hours to turn them over, and when Earth had said no, the Astra had sent two hundred Warsticks across the border.

  Saber and the other EPL ship’s job was simply to slow the Astra down while the League mounted a better, and more powerful defense closer to the threatened systems.

  Saber guessed the League figured that twenty ships full of old, nursing home residents were expendable when it came to defending Earth’s space.

  And Saber agreed.

  He and the rest were expendable when it came down to fighting off the alien scum and protecting Earth and its allies.

  But Brian didn’t plan on getting killed or even beaten up just yet, especially by an alien that looked more like a piece of straw than an alien warrior.

  But at the moment, that was exactly what was happening. From Marian’s report, the EPL ships had managed to destroy six of the Warsticks, but had lost three of their ships in the process.

  They were going to slow the Warstick fleet down, that was for sure, but they weren’t going to stop it by a long ways, unless he came up with something fast.

  Suddenly the voice of Dot came over the ship’s communications link. “Captain?”

  “Go ahead, Private,” he said.

  His stomach twisted and he felt sick. In the battle he had forgotten she was even on board. What a mission to be her first. And most likely her last. If they were killed, Shady Valley Nursing Home would have two deaths in one Christmas morning.

  “Our weapons are doing no good against the sides of these ships,” Dot said. “But I have an idea that is pretty far-fetched.”

  “Anything at this point,” he said, moving the ship barely out of the way of two closing Warsticks trying to trap him between their open ends.

  “From what the Lieutenant told me,” she said, “the Warstick control room is near one end, their engine room is near the other, and weapons are fired from both ends.”

  “Got it right,” Saber said. “What’s your idea?”

  “I think if you cut one of those sticks in half,” she said, “you might put it out of business.”

  “And how would you suggest we do that?” Saber asked. Then almost before the question was out of his mouth, he knew the answer.

  “Ram it,” he said.

  At the same moment she said, “Ram it.”

  “Great idea, Private,” he said, suddenly feeling like they just might have a chance. A slim chance on a crazy idea, but it just might work.

  He went to ship-wide com. “I want all weapons aimed forward and firing. On my mark.”

  The Warsticks were very thin right at the center, so the Earth ships had a complete advantage in size. And the Earth ships had great forward screens since they flew so fast through space with the Trans-Galactic drive.

  In fact, at full T-G drive speed, the ship could punch a hole through a small moon and come out the other side. But this close they wouldn’t be able to get to full speed or full screens that only came up at higher speeds.

  He swung the ship around and headed for the center o
f the nearest Warstick.

  One problem the sticks had was turning quickly and he stayed easily ahead of the Warstick’s evasive turn.

  “Asteroid deflectors and shields on full!” Brian ordered.

  “Already on,” Carl said.

  “Brace for impact!” Marian announced to the entire crew.

  It was almost anticlimactic.

  The ship didn’t even bump. Saber had felt a worse impact running over a jackrabbit with a car back in Idaho when he was younger.

  But the Warstick was cut in half. The two halves spinning away from the collision point.

  A moment later, both ends of the enemy Warstick exploded in bright white flashes.

  “Well, I’d say that worked,” Carl said, looking over and smiling at Brian.

  “I’ll be a blonde,” Marian said, her favorite phrase of surprise. Considering her bright red hair, that just wasn’t ever possible, which is why the statement worked.

  “Inform the other ships,” Brian ordered. “Weapons crew, keep firing forward. Let’s take out another one.”

  He swung the ship around and plowed through the center of another Warstick before it could even begin to turn out of his way.

  The same thing happened.

  They went through the alien ship as if it wasn’t even there, then the separated halves of the Warstick exploded.

  Maybe, just maybe, they had a chance in this fight. For the first time in a few hours, he was starting to hope he might see one more Christmas turkey dinner at the nursing home.

  And with luck he would see Dot again. If they survived this, he had a surprise for her that he had been thinking about long before he invited her to join the League.

  Two hours of hard fighting later, the Astra Warstick fleet, or what was left of it, turned and headed back for the border. There were still fifteen of the twenty Earth Protection League ships left.

  They had won and won easily.

  Brian reported to League Command what had happened, then sat back in his chair and took a long, deep breath. He had been sweating for hours and could desperately use a shower. He could feel himself sticking to his shirt and his chair.

  But he hadn’t felt this good about a mission in a long, long time.

  “Nice flying, Captain,” Carl said, also slouching in his chair, clearly as exhausted as Brian felt. But he had a huge smile on his tired face.

  “That was almost fun,” Marian said, sighing as well. “Let’s not do it again for a few years, okay?”

  “Agreed,” Brian said, thinking about how Dot must be feeling right now. “I think this deserves a party, don’t you?”

  “I think the fact that we’re still alive deserves something,” Carl said, laughing.

  “I will even drink to that,” Marian said.

  “Oh, God,” Carl said, “a drunk redhead. That’s what we need.”

  “Exactly what the Captain ordered,” Brian said, laughing along with his two command crew.

  Saber flicked the communication switch to the members of his crew. “Congratulations people, on a job well done. And special thanks to our newest crew member, Private Dot Leeds. Party in one hour, everyone. Don’t be late.”

  EIGHT

  December 25th, 1956

  Equivalent Earth Time

  Location: Deep Space

  DOT SMILED AT the Captain’s words and for the first time in two hours let go of the control stick for the Proton Projector Beam weapon, then sat back in her padded chair.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so tired and so exhilarated at the same time.

  The battle had seemed to go on forever. Flashing ship after flashing ship, at times she didn’t know what to fire at and when. But she didn’t think she fired at any EPL ships.

  They were pretty amazing-looking, designed like big birds and she now knew Brian and Carl were in the command area in what looked like the top of the head.

  At first she didn’t think she could fire a weapon, but then she started to learn quickly when she saw the alien ships that looked like thin hourglasses. She had broken an hourglass timer once when cooking back when she was married and that’s what had given her the idea to break the two ends in half.

  From there the battle seemed like it had just started and then it ended.

  Behind her, Private Becky Pollard came up and patted her on the back. Becky was a stout woman with a bright smile. She had been the gunner behind Dot and to the right.

  “Nice job. Much better than my first time out here.”

  “Thanks,” Dot said, standing and stretching muscles that back in the nursing home she could barely move.

  Becky was shorter than Dot’s five-four, with blonde hair and freckles. During the battle she swore more than any person Dot had ever heard, using words Dot had never dreamed a woman could use so effectively.

  “I had no idea what I was doing,” Dot said.

  “How could you?” Becky asked, laughing with a throaty sound that seemed to be both natural and from too many cigarettes. “Remember where you were when the Captain asked you to join the crew.”

  “A nursing home wheelchair,” Dot said, smiling and shaking her head as the memories flooding back in.

  And the questions came back as well about this all being a dream. It didn’t feel much like a dream anymore, that was for sure.

  “Being in a nursing home sure trains you to fire a Proton Projector Beam weapon, doesn’t it?” Becky said.

  “I wish I had one for a few of the day nurses,” Dot said.

  Becky snorted and then laughed again. “Yeah, I know that feeling. Come on, I’ll show you where a shower is, and you should have another fresh uniform in your room.”

  “Thanks,” Dot said. Then, almost as if it had been a habit for the past twenty-five years, she took the first step.

  And then she remembered that before this trip, she couldn’t walk well and without work. And hadn’t been able to for over twenty-five years.

  This was a dream.

  It had to be.

  One hour later, freshly showered and still marveling at her ability to walk like a young person, she joined the rest of the crew in the mess area.

  The place was about the twice the size of a large living room and smelled of fresh bread. It was larger by about half than the lunchroom at Shady Valley Nursing Home.

  All the tables had been pushed against the walls leaving the smooth floor open in the middle. The crew of about forty or so milled around the outside, smiling and laughing.

  She couldn’t believe it. All of those young people around here were really old people back on Earth.

  Drinks and food filled one table near the door, and she took a bottle of water and some fresh bread.

  Becky came over and introduced her to about ten of the crew members who all seemed pleased to meet her. When they gave their names, they also gave their town. She liked that.

  Finally she moved over to Captain Brian Saber who was talking with a redhead that someone said was Commander Marian Knudson, his second in command.

  “Thanks for the great idea of ramming the Warsticks,” he said, taking her bottle of water and handing her a drink that looked like a cross between a screwdriver and something with red juice in it. “You saved all of our lives.”

  She laughed. “You’d have thought of it eventually.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he said. “No one in any battle with the Warsticks has ever thought of it in years. So thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She knew her face was red, but she ignored the feeling and sipped at the drink, loving the sweet flavor mixed with the orange juice.

  She couldn’t believe she was standing, talking with Brian, on a ship that looked like a big bird, after a battle with aliens. Now she understood why she hadn’t believed him when he told her about his last mission.

  She didn’t believe she was here, to be honest.

  The Captain turned to Carl who looked like he was drinking straight scotch and said, “Fire it
up.”

  “You got it, Captain,” Carl said, smiling at her before moving away.

  Carl tapped a button on a wall and music filled the room.

  Christmas music, just soft enough to talk over, yet loud enough to hear clearly.

  The song was an old Benny Goodman Christmas song she couldn’t remember the title to, but she had loved to dance to it back when she was young. It had been an old song then, but she hadn’t cared.

  The Captain bowed to her slightly. “I remember in one of our lunch conversations you mentioned how much you liked to dance. And you mentioned this song. So I figured what better thing to do on Christmas than dance?”

  For a moment she was sure she would wake up and lose the entire dream.

  But she didn’t.

  She stayed right there, standing on her own two feet.

  The music swirled around her, the handsome man smiled at her, the room felt perfect.

  “I’d love to,” she managed to say to the Captain.

  She handed her drink to Marian who smiled and nodded to her.

  Captain Brian Saber, the most handsome man she could ever remember seeing, took her hand and stepped to the middle of the open floor.

  A moment later they were moving around the floor of the mess hall as the other crew members watched and clapped along with the music.

  She was dreaming.

  And it was wonderful.

  And she didn’t care.

  All she focused on was his firm grasp, his strong muscles under his silk shirt, and his twinkling eyes and infectious smile.

  She could do this all night.

  Four hours later, after more dances than she could remember, she was standing beside the coffin-like sleep chamber again in the cabin they had assigned her.

  She had put on the old nightgown over her young body. She knew she had to get in the chamber, but she didn’t want to.

  She stood there, swaying back and forth, trying to get the memory of the dancing, of just standing, clearly in her mind.

  And the memory of being held by Captain Brian Saber.

  She really, really needed to remember this dream.

  Finally, when the warning bell rang, she had no choice.