by Andy Kasch
Jumper turned to Kayla. “Because of my past personal obsession with polwar, you mean? You might have a point. But I did pull my head out, didn’t I? Maybe that’s why I now see things differently, I don’t know. I do know there’s a whole galaxy of things happening around us. A fool can ignore it all, no one else. Good things, bad things, interesting things, boring things. If you pay no attention to your larger environment, sooner or later somebody will come along and take everything you have.”
Kayla laughed. “Now that sounds like Brandon talking.”
Alan spoke. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had enough of caves for a while. When we get home I’m going to ask Derek if we can move some of the production facility outside. And Shaldan, I don’t mind telling you I was more than a little nervous a few minutes ago when you were calling into that cavern for your companions.”
“Me too,” Jumper and Kayla said in unison.
Shaldan laughed. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t comfortable with it, either. But I wanted to make sure they weren’t still hiding in there. They probably got back to the city by now. I half-expected to hear those horrible alien voices shout insults at us from that cave, too.”
“What were those insults, anyway?” Kayla asked. “I couldn’t understand them. It only sounded like bits and pieces of familiar words to me.”
“I understood them,” Alan said. “I was closest to the hole in the rocks. They were poor imitations of Sulienite accents, but I could make out what they were saying. They called us …capitalist dogs, among other things.”
Jumper pointed at Shaldan. “They must have been talking to our Mparian friend here. What were the other things?”
Alan looked to see Shaldan’s reaction before answering, but he was stumbling ahead as Casanova began pulling him.
“Don’t let him control you,” Kayla shouted after Shaldan. “He’ll take you off into the brush if you let him. Remember the thorn plants!”
Alan turned back to Jumper. “More stuff like that. Evil classists, extortionists, exploitive profiteers. Oh, and some stuff about being weak. Said we ‘Erobians’ weren’t worthy of being their pets.”
“Erobians?”
“Yeah, none of us Erobians were good enough to be in his animal pen, or something.”
“Did he mean Erobs? Why would he call us Erobs? That’s hardly an insult.”
Alan shook his head. “I don’t think he meant Erobs. I think he was categorizing us with the natives, or more likely all natives in this part of the galaxy.”
“You mean all members of the ancient Erob coalition?”
“Possibly.”
Jumper cocked his head. “That’s interesting.”
“Why?” Alan asked.
“Just wondering who the horned aliens are, and where they came from. I don’t remember studying any species that looked like them. Do you?”
“No. But it’s been a while since—”
“Never seen anything like them on Amulen, either,” Jumper continued. “If they’re insulting all members of the Erob coalition, they’re obviously not from a member world.”
“Maybe not even from the Erobian Sphere at all,” Alan said.
Jumper nodded. “Now that’s an intriguing thought. Never even considered that.” He laughed. “See, I was living in a cave again, only looking at our little part of the galaxy.”
“I don’t mind being called a capitalist,” Kayla said. “Or even a profiteer. Not crazy about dog or extortionist. But if that’s the best they can do, they’re no better at hurling insults than they are at fighting. Sorry I asked now. Do we have to keep talking about them?”
“They’re socialists,” Jumper said. He looked at Alan and Kayla. “You guys didn’t have nutty dads who forced you to take advanced economics classes. So for your information, that’s why those things they called us are insults. To them, probably the worst insults they could muster. Not so much to us. To Shaldan, probably compliments. But they also seem to see themselves as a genetically superior race. Must have been quite a blow to their ego to have been outsmarted by inferior beings. Thanks to you, Alan.”
“Yeah,” Kayla said. “Nice work back there, Alan.” Alan could tell Kayla meant what she said, but her voice was still less enthusiastic than normal.
Jumper put his arm around her. “Okay honey, I’m done. Let’s try and keep up with Shaldan and your precious kitty cat.”
They failed at that. Casanova had too much energy left. He dragged poor Shaldan into a trot twenty or thirty meters ahead of them, where the two stayed even after Alan, Jumper, and Kayla increased their pace. Alan brought up the rear. He walked as fast as he could while still watching where he placed his feet. It’d be bad to incur an ankle injury this close from the sanctuary of the city.
The hiking became easier the farther they descended, as the trail they followed was more recently used at lower elevations. When they got down among the foothills, Alan could see where the trail mercifully ended on the ground in a cove ahead of them.
That’s when he heard the noise.
“Wait,” Alan said.
Jumper and Kayla turned around. “What?”
Alan pointed to the northwest. “Did you hear something?”
They both took their weapons out of their belts. No one said anything. Finally, Kayla spoke.
“Like what?”
“Maybe a ship.”
They all stood still for another moment. Jumper looked particularly alarmed.
“I’m getting nothing, Alan. How clear did you hear it?”
“Not very.”
Jumper scanned the horizons. “If you did hear a ship, let’s hope it was from The Measure. They’re due back.”
“What do you suppose happened to the mining equipment delivery,” Kayla said as she examined her weapon. “The one Trodenjo and his brother went to go check on. I remember thinking they were more than a little surprised that it never arrived.”
“I don’t even want to guess now,” Jumper said. “No one seemed to be aware of any hostile alien activity here before today. And aren’t you the one who wanted to stop talking about this?”
Kayla didn’t answer. She fired her laser instead, at the ground across the slope.
Alan and Jumper instantly crouched and aimed their weapons at the same spot. What was she shooting at? Her beam suddenly grew weak, became segmented, and flickered out. Kayla then appeared to notice how anxious Alan and Jumper looked.
“Sorry, guys. Just testing. I suspected it was near dead. Unfortunately, I was right. Now totally dead. The ‘superior race’ of horned aliens makes inferior hand lasers. They don’t hold a charge very long. The technology is foreign, so we can’t charge it back up. It’s useless. Alan, how’s yours?”
Alan pointed his inferior alien laser at the same spot on the ground Kayla shot at and fired. It was a repeat performance. The beam fragmented, flickered, and died.
“Give it to me,” Kayla said. “These are now a liability, not an asset.”
Alan handed her his weapon. Kayla scanned the ground as they continued through the foothills. She came to a dead tree trunk with a hole in it, and unceremoniously dropped the empty lasers through it.
Jumper spoke. “Firing those on the hillside was stupid, honey. It’s close to dusk and they might have been seen from a long ways off.”
Alan cringed. Kayla really, really, really didn’t like to be called stupid. Alan hadn’t heard Jumper use that word to her in many years.
“Yeah,” Kayla said. “You might be right. Sorry. I’m having a bad day.” Alan breathed again.
They came out the trailhead into the cove. It felt good to be on flat ground again. Alan looked back and forth.
“Where’s Shaldan and Casanova?”
“I just saw them here,” Kayla said. “Maybe Casanova pulled him around the corner.”
They walked out of the cove a short ways. The entrance to the city was barely visible in the distance, but a welcoming beacon nonetheless. A thirty minute jog woul
d probably get them home. But there was no Shaldan and Casanova. They turned around.
“There they are,” Kayla said. “Inside the brush line.”
She raised her voice to shout.
“I warned you, Shaldan! Don’t let him boss you around!”
At that moment, the unmistakable sound of a speeding spaceship came from the top of the mountain behind them, above the area they were climbing this morning. The three of them spun back around and looked up.
It wasn’t Trodenjo’s shuttle. It was two fighter craft, moving fast. In the time it took Alan to shield his eyes and squint, they were halfway down the mountainside, coming straight for them.
Alan recognized them. They weren’t from The Measure.
“The dark enemy!” he said. “Run!”
Alan followed Kayla and Jumper in an all-out sprint towards Shaldan and Casanova in the brush. He could see them in there, looking up at the incoming ships. They were so close, yet so far away under the circumstances. Just another ten or fifteen seconds—that’s all they needed to make it to cover. They had to make it. Surely they would make it after all they’d been through today.
They didn’t. A large laser beam from one of the fighters cut them off. It fired to the ground before them, blocking their way to the foothills. They were forced to halt. Alan could feel the heat from it.
The three of them in unison turned to run back towards the city. But the second fighter, which had now swung around to face the opposite direction, fired a laser across the ground blocking the other way. They were trapped.
The fighters cut their lasers, but remained hovering in place only a hundred meters off the ground. Alan looked to the brush line. Shaldan and Casanova could no longer be seen. Good.
The sound of a third ship then came into earshot. Alan looked up. The alien hover ship was back, having just come over the southern mountaintop. It began descending towards them.
“Now we know who the horned aliens are,” Alan said.
“Yep.” Jumper looked back and forth between the two hovering fighters. “Another way to put it is we now know who the dark enemy is. Or at least we know what they look like—and that they’re apparently socialists with a superiority complex. I wonder where they’re from.”
“Maybe we’ll find out before they kill us,” Alan said. He watched the enemy fighters and wondered if anyone had gotten this close of a look at them and lived to tell of it. They were dark and sleek, well-designed craft with impressive speed and maneuverability. Powered by two side-engine pods as opposed to a single thruster in the rear. They were bigger than Torian conventional fighters—but then they were interstellar vessels, so needed room for the crew to move around. By Alan’s estimation, six of those large horned aliens might comfortably fit in the interior—although that may be a little cramped for a long trip.
The hover ship grew loud as it came overhead and then settled on the ground beyond them. The Sulien sun was now setting on the southwest horizon. Alan figured it would likely be the last sunset the three human friends would ever see.
Kayla’s expressions rotated through horror, determination, and concern. Alan noticed the concerned look usually coincided with her glances back into the foothills. She really loved that cat.
They didn’t try to run. There was no point to it. They had gotten caught in the open. Who would have suspected this could happen so fast? Perhaps it was just bad timing.
The hover ship opened and a half dozen horned aliens emerged. Alan clutched his quarner stone necklace through his shirt as they approached. They were strolling, as if this were a casual encounter. Alan wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He could picture it being quite bad.
Hope. Hope remained as long as they were alive. The fighters could have easily killed them, if that’s what they wanted. The aliens left up on the mountaintop certainly weren’t telling any tales. And this time they took care to conceal all the remains. So there was a chance that three soft, weak, laughably inferior Earthlings wouldn’t be considered hostile to these beings. A chance. Thank Erob Kayla ditched those weapons.
“If there’s any communicating, would you two mind letting me do all the talking?” Jumper said. “I have an idea.”
Kayla gave Jumper a look of restrained affection, like she wanted him to hold her but knew better. She only nodded in agreement. It seemed she was done talking already.
“Sure,” Alan said. “One idea is better than none.”
“Oh,” Jumper added. “And try not to look scared. In fact, if you can, try to look arrogant or disgusted.”
Alan and Kayla both cocked their heads, but quickly straightened up as the aliens from the hover ship came before them. Jumper greeted them with a sneer. Kayla noticed it and crossed her arms, frowning. Alan did his best to look annoyed.
The six big aliens looked them up and down. They seemed perplexed, especially by Kayla. The one in front held a device in his hand. It didn’t look like a weapon; more like some kind of microphone or amplification device.
The front alien reached out his hand and placed the device in front of Alan’s head. Ten seconds later, Alan was still alive and standing. Whew. He hoped his annoyed expression hadn’t faltered too much.
One of the other aliens spoke, using recognizable words in a broken Sulien accent.
“The box is a communication device, a translator. When questioned, please speak into the box.”
Alan frowned, stepped back, and pointed at Jumper. As he did, three of the aliens drew weapons and aimed them first at him and then at Jumper. The one with the box looked back and forth between them and finally seemed to get the idea. He moved the translator in front of Jumper’s mouth, but then noticed the weapon on Jumper’s belt and promptly grabbed it away from him.
“You will speak for them?” The talking alien said.
Jumper only crossed his arms in front of him.
The talker asked another question.
“You are not Sulienites?”
This time Jumper responded, but not with words. He let out a rambunctious laugh instead, which he managed to make sound scornful before stopping.
The aliens stared back. They didn’t shoot. Jumper’s idea was working, so far. Whatever it was.
Chapter Sixteen
In response to Brandon’s request over the direct transmission link, the four ITF2’s gathered at the rear of the empty strip of space between the Torian and Azaarian positions. From there they made a slow, controlled flyby between the fleets. Brandon figured General Islog8 would like that. He was right. They received a compliment from the command ship on their continuing patrol of the left flank.
Brandon then spoke to the other three ITF2 crews via their own secured network. Each of them confirmed receipt of his mine deployment scheme data transfer. It was now implemented and active in all their weapons system computers. Specter crew still had questions, which could be heard on the radios of all four ships.
“What’s the time estimate for full deployment after we dag in?”
“A little more than six minutes,” Brandon answered. “Engage the weapons control program immediately upon arrival. Autopilot will take over. You’ll get the yellow dag signal in the cockpit again when deployment is complete.”
“Then what?”
“Return to your patrol here. All of you.”
At this point one of the Quasar pilots spoke.
“This deployment scheme is away from the current action. What will draw the enemy into the minefield?”
“We will,” Brandon said. “Aston, that is. We’ll be staying behind to act as bait for the trap.”
“Don’t you want help with that?”
Brandon didn’t know how to answer. It turns out he didn’t have to, because Specter’s pilot came back on with the question he hoped no one would ask.
“This mine deployment action was directed by command, right? Just want to confirm.”
“No,” Brandon said. “It’s my conception.”
A short silence followed before
Specter’s pilot spoke again.
“But it’s been approved by command, right?”
“No,” Brandon said without pause. “They haven’t been informed of it, for the plain reason that I fear it will be rejected. The general only wants us to protect the left flank for the time being.”
Brandon let his words sink in. As he expected, there was no reply. He knew what they were thinking, though. Each of the crews was doubtlessly hoping one of the others would voice the objection they all had. When Brandon thought his timing was about right, he continued.
“Just so you all understand, we—Aston—are acting under the direction of High General Olut6. That’s the only reason I came here, and, consequently, why you all now have armed smart mines. Pilot-1 and pilot-2 on my craft are Lut5 and Borsk7, the High General’s personal escorts. That’s how important he deemed our mission. I don’t know if any of you witnessed our earlier engagement and what we went through to gather the target data for the mines…”
“We saw it,” one of the pilots said. “Extat, that was impressive. Not surprised to learn who’s flying over there. But if the action you’re asking us to take is against our fleet commander’s orders—”
“Boys, take a good look at what’s happening right now. Nearly half the enemy fleet is now engaging Dirg, and Dirg is back-peddling. Look at them. The battle is heating up. Dirg is only fighting reactively, giving the dark ships the advantage of initiative. So the enemy has the luxury of choosing all the engagement points. This is where Tora is supposed to come to Dirg’s aide, but we’re holding back, still only getting involved in minor skirmishes on the enemy’s far left because the general is worried about getting flanked by Azaar. So Azaar doesn’t need to do anything other than sit right where they are in order to help the dark ships, just as they’re currently doing.
“Now listen to me, boys. Before I arrived at Dirg, I was at Azaar attempting to negotiate. I believe there’s a slight chance Azaar will come to our side, which is why we’ve all been ordered not to fire upon them first. But we need to convince Azaar they’ll be joining the winning side. I’m only asking for a few minutes of your time. Azaar will probably never realize our four crafts have even left the flank. You’ll all be back here where the general wants you in ten minutes.”