Lunara: The Original Trilogy

by Wyatt Davenport

  "I will be careful," the boy said.

  "You are our last hope, kid," Jaffer said. "Make sure you do it right."

  From behind the vent, the boy flashed a thumbs-up.

  "We are getting brutalized out here," a random fighter pilot’s voice sounded over the radio.

  Another wave of MSA fighters swarmed past the Protector. Shannon Buckley yanked the control stick and stirred the ship past the incoming fire. Then a group of MSA heavy fighters bombarded the space between them and the Sheriff, rattling the Alliance ships.

  Savage dogfights littered the battlefield. The sky above Lunara was lit up with streaks of sapphire and turquoise.

  "The yaw is all messed up," Buckley said. "It’s a small wonder this control stick hasn’t ripped off."

  "Ripley, fix it!" Eamonn shouted over his shoulder.

  "Already fixing," the old man said, rushing off the bridge and down to the engine room.

  "Use lateral thrusters if you have to," he said to Buckley.

  "All ships, concentrate your efforts on the MSA cruiser closest to Lunara. We can’t let them establish position," Captain Terry announced over the radio.

  Eamonn ignored the order, even though he knew its importance. He had other problems to deal with, namely the squadron of MSA fighters flying around the battle zone, picking off ships without any repercussions.

  He signaled to Shannon, through the targeting computer, to head toward the MSA fighters. He would make them interested in him so they wouldn’t be able to cause anyone else trouble. The Protector bolted toward the circling MSA fighters.

  Jan Falloom, who he thought was out of the battle, swept in front of him and led the charge. In a calm and level voice, she said, "They were beginning to annoy me, too."

  "Good to see you," he said, and a surge of glee waved over his tense shoulders.

  Buckley rotated it one-eighty, as Eamonn continued a random burst of sonic bullets toward the MSA fighters, trying to get their attention

  Space was thick with weapons fire, causing the fighters to take heed of their arrival.

  A few moments later, the MSA fighters were interested. They scattered their salvos with a few short-range explosions in front of their defense line, preventing the Protector from penetrating with enough fire to slow them.

  The battlefield was aglow with cobalt and ruby explosions, fogged by puffs of smoke, crackled by electrical discharges, littered with debris, ablaze with explosions and plasma fires, cut by streaks of sonic bullets, and painted with shafts of exhaust trails. The sight was awesome, terrifying, and incomprehensible; there was no way for Eamonn, Captain Terry, or the MSA to control the battlefield anymore. The small pockets of fighting would have to add up to a win.

  "Get ready," Buckley warned as she slammed into the defense line the MSA fighters had formed.

  The Protector, with Jan split to her side, bisected the MSA fighter group. The MSA fighters simultaneously scattered from a single unified force into a jumble of discombobulated parts.

  "Get on one of their tails. We will have to take them individually," Eamonn said, glancing as Lunara swept past the viewscreen. "Hopefully, Parker can get Lunara on our side."

  And fast, he thought.

  "Come on," Parker said. "They are pressing forward. We might not get a better chance."

  The MSA troops pressed down the tunnel toward them, taking the Alliance by surprise. The initial foray killed a few Alliance troops, but Parker pushed to keep the MSA from swelling forward. They bent, but he stopped them from breaking.

  "Hurry," he yelled. "We must press this line or we’ll risk being unprepared when the smoker comes."

  The Alliance troops raced toward the MSA troops coming down the corridor. They exchanged fire, killing an equal number from each side.

  He strained to hold back his excitement and his exuberance. He wanted to race down the tunnel like some reckless mercenary, but that would only get him and a bunch of his troops killed.

  Jinx, he thought. This was their shot. He stood. "Come on. They are fighting desperate. We have them pinned."

  "You should really cover your backside," a voice said from behind him, "especially with a foolish foray into the enemy."

  He spun around, his gun drawn. He found a dozens of MSA troops, guns trained on them. Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. He exchanged a hopeless look with Jaffer. If Lunara wasn’t under control soon, the fleet would die a slow, agonizing death. Because of his failure.

  Parker and his platoon were disarmed and lined up along the doorway they had tried to overtake. The sight was sad, and he could hardly keep his head up. The jubilant MSA soldiers filled the corridor. He couldn’t help but wonder if Harry had been killed.

  He looked toward the vent and was surprised to see the young boy sitting patiently, waiting for his opportUnity to take some action or escape. For a long moment, he stared at the boy. His eyes demanded the boy crawl away, hide, and escape.

  The MSA soldiers stepped toward the group, and he braced for the worst.

  Nothing happened, except the rumble of an explosion from down the tunnel. The MSA soldiers swung around when the weapons fired.

  His eyes darted to Harry, who reacted instantly. He pushed the vent open and dropped the smokers to the floor. They puffed out plumes of smoke inside the corridor.

  In the first moments of the resulting confusion, Jaffer dove to the confiscated rifles to their left, while Parker decided to attack right away. He pulled his fist back and punched the closest MSA soldier to the ground. He cried out at the sharp pain in his knuckles.

  Without slowing down, he adjusted his footing and swung his body around to roundhouse kick the next trooper, who staggered into another trooper. Both toppled to the ground.

  By this time, Jaffer had grabbed his weapon and used it to subdue the remaining MSA soldiers.

  Parker frisked them, searching for an ID and a pistol, and finding both quickly. He slid the card across the doorway’s entrance strip but to no avail; the door flashed a lock icon. The MSA in the command room had been watching them the entire time.

  "The door is locked," he said with a thick layer of dejection.

  "Help us here!" Jaffer screamed at him, distress in his voice.

  He spun around, pistol at the ready, and squeezed off a series of shots at the incoming MSA troopers hurrying up the corridor. Shots crisscrossed from each direction, coming in their direction and zipping away from them. He flinched when the blue streaks zipped over his head, and he scrambled to the side, covering himself from the tunnel’s opening.

  The MSA troopers charged, but their attempt was feeble, and Parker noticed something odd. It was as if they were running away from something. They suddenly stopped, dropped to the ground, and surrendered.

  Jaffer gave Parker a queer look.

  A moment later, through the thick smoke, Parker saw them. Atalo Grove and Ty Falloom appeared in the distance, out from around the corner, rifles in hand.

  A wave of relief washed over him. The hope that had vanished when he found the door locked a moment before was back in his heart. The rightful Lunaran command staff had come to reclaim the colony.

  Ty came right to him.

  "Ty!" Parker said. "I’m glad you’re alive. Jan will be so relieved." He put one arm around him in an informal embrace.

  "Is she safe?" Ty said.

  "As safe as Jan gets," he replied. "She is fighting out there in one of the starwings."

  "The starwings have weapons? Why aren’t Seth and Chloe flying them?"

  "Ty, the week was long; we had to retrofit the starwings with weapons; there is a civil war on Mars; Seth and Chloe are prisoners; Jan and Eamonn are fighting in that battle out there; Gwen has joined with the other side, and Roche," he said, letting out a sigh, "Roche is dead."

  "Roche . . . I will miss him," Ty said. His voice trailed off, and he lowered his head. "He was a good friend and will be forever. Let’s get this colony back for him. As for the rest of that information, I will need to be
debriefed at another time."

  "What happened to you?" Parker said. "How did you find us?"

  "Grove and his crew rescued me from my cell in E1. I have followed them up to this point."

  "I can add a bit to the story," Grove said. "Tarlynn and I were held up in a supply room in the lower tunnels of the colony. They forced us to move when the security sweeps were running close to us. We met up with a few other Lunarians. I followed Ty’s orders, and we waited in the abandoned tunnels to the south. When we finally received an encrypted transmission over the communications unit, we couldn’t do anything with it, so we sprang Ty, and he entered the codes to decrypt. We returned the message and came up here to help. That story will sound better to my kids, but you get the gist."

  "Make sure you tell them how much of a hero you are to us," Ty said, patting him on the back and then turning to the group. "We need to get into the control room. They’ll have power restored soon, and I want to be there so we can surprise the MSA fighters with fire from Lunara. The cruisers will bug out when the fighters are eliminated."

  "We might be stuck here. The MSA are locked up pretty tightly," said Parker and turned to the Aethpisian lieutenant. "Any new reports?"

  "Sir, we failed," Jaffer said. "The fortifying doors are closed, and the circuitry is fried. We don’t have anything strong enough to blast them open without ripping the colony into pieces."

  "Even still," Parker added, "dynocharges wouldn’t leave a mark on those doors, and we don’t have any resonance charges small enough to detonate."

  "What about napalm grenades?" Ty said. "Can’t we strap them to the door and let the explosion melt through?" He retrieved a football-shaped object from a fallen soldier. He turned it with his hand, and the red liquid inside oozed along the clear coating. "I bet if we angled this just right, a concentrated burst could eat through those doors."

  "It could work," Parker said.

  "Good enough for me," Ty said, handing the grenade to Grove. "I want it welded to the center of the door with a strip of metal." Ty looked around the hallway. "And take out those cameras. I don’t need them watching us."

  "Mister," a faint voice said from behind them. "Did we win?"

  "Oh no," he said, spinning around. He dashed over to the ventilation shaft and unlatched the holdings. The boy slid out and dusted himself off as best as he could.

  Parker grabbed him by the shoulders. "You are the hero of the day." He knelt and wiped the grime from the boy’s face.

  The boy smiled listlessly. "Are we going to knock the door down?"

  "We will try, but you shouldn’t be here any longer. We put you in danger for far too long."

  "I just want to help," the boy replied. "They won’t let me carry a gun."

  "No, they shouldn’t. You are helping fine. Now, go to the back and find a place to hide. It’s about to get loud and scary up here. I will come find you when we take the command center. You can sit in the chief’s office while we blast the bad guys out of the sky."

  "Really, in the chief’s chair?"

  "Yes, I am in good with him."

  "I’m not scared, but I will go . . . because they need protection in the back," the boy said.

  "Keep them safe." Parker pushed the boy back to start him running down the hallway, dodging the troops moving in preparation to enter the command center. In a few seconds, the boy, homeless but resilient, was gone from his sight. Parker turned toward the fortified door. The engineers had fastened the grenade tightly. "You have to let me pull the trigger," he called to Grove. "I want to see the dumbfounded look in their eyes."

  "By all means," Atalo said, dropping his shoulders. "I hoped someone would volunteer. No telling how much this thing will spray."

  "Are you trying to make me nervous?" Parker smirked. "I flew in on a transport that had to be one hundred years old just to get here. That is nerve."

  Grove laughed sluggishly.

  "Back!" Parker yelled. The troops took positions behind the barricade the MSA troops had formed. Ty and Grove held a position some way down the hallway.

  Parker’s hands were clammy as the sweat pushed out of his body. Everyone hid, waiting for him to detonate the grenade; eyes peered over bunker heads. They focused on him, and he couldn’t help but be aware of his loneliness, without Sarah, his crew, or the Protector. This was the moment where the battle culminated for the new Alliance. If the grenade did nothing to the door, they were sunk. There was no way into the command center except through this door. He set the timer for ten seconds and activated the countdown. He raced to the bunker closest to him in the corridor and dove for cover.

  "Three . . . two . . . one," Parker counted in his head.

  SPLOOSH! The grenade exploded. Ricocheting off the shielded metal, the red ooze splattered all over the lobby area. The door dripped with red ooze, concentrated on the impact site and lessening as it sprayed out.

  "It didn’t work," Parker shouted, inspecting the half-eaten doorway. "The penetration wasn’t far enough into the metal. Do we have another one?"

  "No, that was the only one left among the MSA troops," Grove said. "What about a welder?"

  "No. A welder can’t generate enough heat."

  "Let’s just fire a rocket," Ty said sharply. "The door’s structure should be weak enough from the napalm to blast it without sending the explosion away into the building. The shockwave will go into the command center."

  "But if it doesn’t explode through," Grove objected, "we’ll create a massive hole in the corridor. Sending us all into space."

  "We have nothing to lose," Parker said. He, too, was unconvinced, but if it did go into the command center, as Ty hoped, the refortified structure would hold up.

  "Parker," a voiced called over his communications unit.

  He forgot he had the unit in his breast pocket. Retrieving it, he shouted: "Go ahead, Parker here."

  "This is Eamonn. We need you to get control of the command center—immediately. Our fighters are overwhelmed, and the Regulator and the Sheriff are running low on munitions."

  "We are trying. They put down the fortifying doors. We are almost done setting up our plan."

  "Buckley, look out!"

  Parker winced.

  "Quickly!" Eamonn said. "We were nearly blasted. Get the defensive system back up and firing at the MSA cruisers."

  "Hey, if you talk with Jan, tell her Ty is okay."

  "I read you," Eamonn said. "Buckley, hard to port. Eamonn out."

  "We have the rocket set up and aligned," Ty announced. "I want everyone behind the blast barricade. Parker, you pull the trigger." He pointed at Jaffer. "You six through the door and securing the room before the smoke clears."

  "We understand, sir," Jaffer replied.

  "Eamonn just radioed," Parker said. "They need us. The MSA are slaughtering them. The Barracuda is gone." He did not want to believe they would lose because of a door, which he could open easily if given the proper time.

  Ty nodded, then hurried behind a barricade, leaving Parker alone.

  Parker knelt next to the tripod holding the rocket in place. He put his eye to the scope and manually checked the alignment beam. Precisely, the sights were in the center of the blast radius. "Get ready," he called out. With a hand gesture, Grove signaled the team to begin.

  Parker wiped his brow and dried his hands on the thighs of his pants. Sweat rolled down his spine, and his stomach knotted. He felt like he was experiencing every physical side effect from stress and utter terror.

  This is it, Parker, if the door doesn’t blast open, the back draft will kill you and everyone in this hallway, and the command center will be able to take out all your friends in the sky above. No pressure. He squeezed against the trigger.

  SWOOSH! The rocket left the cylindrical holding and accelerated toward the weakened door.

  BOOM! In that instant, Parker thought he was dead. The echoing roar thundered down the hallway, and the entire colony shook. The backwash from the explosion sent him flying backward
into a hard barrier, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped for air, and a loud ringing consumed his mind.

  Soldiers poured toward the doorways, and confusion riddled the hallway. Flashes of gunfire flickered in his spinning vision.

  He tried to find his balance while instinctively searching for cover. He rolled around on the floor, feeling terrifyingly alone.

  Then, as if he had never lost it, his hearing returned, and footsteps came from behind. He waved off the medic. He would be fine after his head stopped swimming. A concussion, he diagnosed himself.

  He attempted to get up but stumbled to the ground. A small hand grabbed his arm. "Use me to hold you up."

  "Harry, what are you doing here? I told you to hide."

  "The medics needed someone to carry the bandages," Harry said, showing off the bag he had around over his back. "I wanted to help you."

  "You were brave," he said, still wobbly in his knees.

  "Stay down," Harry said. "I’ll protect you until you can walk again."

  "Thanks, I should be okay in a few minutes. I was at the head of that loud bang. Did you hear it?"

  "I think we all heard it. The rumbling gave me goose bumps and not the good kind. And you were at the front?"

  "Yes, I pulled the trigger," he said, trying to impress the young boy. "We needed to knock the door down to save the people outside."

  "The bad guys are coming out." The boy pointed.

  Through the blasted hole, the MSA command staff traipsed through. Many of the officers lowered their heads. A platoon of soldiers led them out. Harry took a few steps back, and Parker put his arm around the boy and held him in place. "Never let them see you scared," he whispered into the boy’s ear. Parker’s face hardened as he looked into the eyes of the twenty or so MSA officers and soldiers passing him. They had killed Sarah. Harry mimicked his tough expression.

  After the final prisoner moved past, Parker stood and was almost back to normal, aside from nausea in his stomach, but it wasn’t enough to hamper him. "I am all better. Let’s go into the command center and see how things are shaping up. Don’t touch anything though. Just sit quietly."

  "No, problem. Not a peep," the boy said, saluting like a soldier.