by Don Foxe
“And the sex was good?” Mags asked. “Don’t look at me like that! We all want to know. I just have the balls to ask.”
“The sex was fantastic,” Elie said.
“Better,” Coop added.
“Twenty-five years after Fairchild found the hangar with the alien spacecraft, the UEC selected Coop as the mission pilot for the first space-fold test with a person on board,” Elie said. “I was disappointed, but I also expected it. Only one person on Earth was a slightly, almost infinitesimally better pilot than me, and I lived with him.”
“What happened?” Sky asked. “Why did space-fold break you apart?”
“You, and Storm experienced it during the initial conflict with the Zenge. Fold sickness,” Coop said. After making repeated short space-fold jumps during the battle, both girls vomited, becoming deathly ill. “I tested the space-fold array, and following a series of short jumps, like you, I became sick. Only I had no idea why. I folded back into natural space and nearly died.”
“Coop exited folded space retching blood. He could barely stay conscious. Anyone else would have died. He kept it together, and crash-landed Angel on Mars. He brought her in near enough to the habitat for them to reach him for treatment before he bled out.”
“I watched Elie watching over me. I don’t even know now, if she realized I was aware. I watched her dying with me, and I hated it. We lasted another year, but the possibility of letting her down ate at me. I started to believe I could stop flying, stop testing, or stop living with her. If we broke up, and something happened, she would have moved on.”
“He was, and still is a total lame-ass son-of-a-bitch who thinks he always knows what’s best for everyone else. He also thinks he must assume the responsibility, the pain, the suffering and the consequences for everything God and the universe throws at the people around him,” Elie said. “He pushed our friends away. Then he pushed me away. That’s how space-fold broke us apart.”
Storm left the cockpit and walked up to stand behind Coop, where she slapped him hard across the back of his head.
“OUCH!” he cried. “What the hell?”
“You are a lame-ass son-of-a-bitch,” Storm said, “but I love you, so Elie cannot have you back.” She left for the head, tears running from her eyes. Coop started to go with her, when Sky pushed him back into his seat.
“She needs a little time,” she told him. “I also happen to love you, and if you ever try to push me away, like you did Elie, space-fold sickness will feel like a pleasant buzz after I am through with you. But I am also a generous woman. If Elie ever wants to borrow you [she looked at Elie with a smile and a wink], she may. If she promises to return you in one piece.” Sky left to check on Storm.
“Damn,” Mags said. “I want to hug both of you.”
“You’re lucky to have them,” Elie said, nodding toward the Fellen.
“I’m lucky to have the four of you,” Cooper replied. “Friends are important to me again, and you are four of the best.”
“Aw, Coop, it’s nice to hear you say that,” Elie cooed. “So you won’t mind when I ask Sky if I can borrow you sometime?”
Mags choked on her water. “See! I told you this trip would turn out too entertaining to pass up.”
“Coop?”
“Yes, Elie.”
The only two awake. Elie in the pilot’s seat, and Coop to her right.
“You give sound reasons, but you should not have left the 109, or Rys. You’re going to have to make a decision.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER 23
Demon entered natural space beyond the Fell system rim by the narrowest of margins. Proximal to a gas giant named Gaea. Coop selected the site, hoping the planet would hamper scans. The gravity distortions created by the planet and its six moons would also generate navigational issues for other, larger ships attempting to operate nearby.
The system’s five planets orbited a red-yellow dwarf star. The inner planet locked in a non-rotational orbit, and currently on the far side of the star. Fell followed, with its three moons. The third and fourth planets, both half the size of Fell, lacked breathable atmospheres, making both uninhabitable. Volcanic, sulfuric, and deadly, they followed orbits placing them to either side of Fell, relative to a line drawn from the star to Fell to Gaea.
Gaea’s current location placed it 670,540,000 miles from Fell, with nothing substantial between the two. Demon employed scanners strong enough to perform a comprehensive sweep of the skies and space around Fell. The multiple gases permeating space around Gaea, would disguise the scanner signatures. The beams would become lost among the multiple ionic charges dancing around Gaea.
Placing Demon in the clutter of planet, moons, and gases to disguise their scans as natural phenomenon to Zenge detectors presented the first obstacle. The key to success; finding a location where those same gases and gravity wells did not disrupt their own equipment.
Elie, Mags, and Coop studied data collected by Demon’s arrays prior to, and following exiting space-fold. In the saddle, a secure location between the planet and a large moon, they evaluated proximity readings. With the additional information as a guide, Elie nudged Demon toward the moon. The natural satellite diminished a portion of the planet’s interference, while providing concealment. Coursing slowly, to not attract attention, required twelve tedious hours to find, then park the ship in the best position.
“Scans active,” Storm informed the others. “We’ll get complete information on anything in space around the planet within a couple of hours. Fell takes eighteen hours to fully rotate on its axis. If you want more about what’s happening on the planet, the scans need to run for the entire eighteen.”
“Settle in, people,” Coop said. “We’ll take turns resting, or analyzing the information bounced back. Storm, how near is the closest wormhole gate to Fell?”
“162-million miles, to the far side of Fell. It would take an uncommonly fast ship a month from gate to planet. If anyone uses the gate, we’ll have plenty of warning. Readings indicate nothing artificial more than a few thousand miles off the planet. The Fellen satellite system appears operational. No Zenge ships patrolling the system. They haven’t set up any special warning devices, buoys, or additional satellites.”
“Confident, over-confident, or lazy?” Coop mused aloud. “You would think, by now, they would realize we can space-fold anywhere, anytime.”
“Maybe not,” Sky said. “This group may not have been involved with the attack on the Star Gazer. Information they have may not included details about how the ships sent to your solar system were defeated. They certainly cannot know about the failure to attack Rys. Communication is no faster than wormhole travel, Coop. It will take days before the ships that escaped report.”
Each assumed a turn analyzing incoming data at com-tac. The other four, ate, read, listened to music, carried on conversations or slept.
At the end of eighteen hours, they grouped for a pow-wow. Elie and Mags in the cockpit, turned, facing the galley, where Storm sat at the com-tac console. Coop and Sky joined from the communal desk.
Storm read aloud the pertinent facts. “There are two Mischene-built battlecruisers in orbit over Fell. Two-hundred miles up. One in a loose oval over the northern pole, and the other over the southern pole. We continue to experience difficulty when scanning for lifeforms within the cruisers. There are four Primary ships patrolling outside the orbital paths of the three moons. If you picture an atom, with Fell the nucleus, the four Primary ships represent electrons in elliptic patterns. Two intersect above the equator every twenty hours. When the intersection occurs, the other two reach the apex of their pattern. Scans show nothing further away than those four ships.”
“Am I the only one who thinks the Zenge have been using a whole lot of Mischene battlecruisers?” Coop asked. “Granted the ships are superior to anything else they appear to have built or stolen, but it seems odd they could capture such a large number.”
“There are three planets, and
five inhabited moons in the Aster system. We know they attacked, and defeated Aster Farum 3,” Sky said. “They probably invaded and captured the other sites. The Mischene, in spite of having the most sophisticated fleet within the trading alliance, have no history of engaging in a battle. They, and the other races in the system, may have abandoned ships for surface cover. They may have surrendered.”
“Speaking of Zenge ships,” Storm interrupted. “Two giant motherships orbit within the thermosphere, sixty miles above the surface. In the last eighteen hours, twenty-six shuttle trips occurred from the surface to the two ships, with twenty-two ships-to-surface trips. Shuttles are a variety of types. Most likely captured ships repurposed for use here, as well as captive Fellen vessels. The smaller ships ferry fighters, equipment, and supplies to the surface. Ships coming from the planet carry Zenge, an assortment of equipment, and warm-blooded signatures. Animals, or people, or both.”
“Shuttles and hover-capable craft deploy Zenge fighters and distribute supplies across the planet. They are using the six space-ports as command and operation centers. There is a substantial camp at the base of the northern Crowns, western hemisphere. Two encampments are evident in the western hemisphere. One group in the Southern Crowns and one mid-continent. A fourth large force of Zenge is located on the island of SCoslene,” Storm added.
“Technology lab locations in those areas,” Sky said. “They either do not know the exact locations, and they are massing search parties, or they know, and these are siege forces.”
“I counted forty-eight Parrian cargo ships on the surface, eight at each space port. Warm and cold-blooded life-form signatures in all forty-eight. We are too far, and interference too high for specific numbers. They are collecting Fellen, and live animals, and keeping them in those cargo ships.”
Zenge used live animals, as well as captured enemy as food sources.
“Do you know the exact locations of the tech labs?” Coop asked both Fellen.
“There are four concealed labs on Fell, one in each region the Zenge have targeted. The one my brother manages is located in the northern Crown,” Sky answered. “I’ve visited him there. I haven’t been to the other protected locations. I’m aware of their general locations. It appears the Zenge are also aware.”
“Same,” Storm added. “I’ve only been to the one with Sky.”
“Communications?” Coop asked. “Is there a way to communicate with anyone on Fell without the Zenge realizing?”
Storm answered. “In an emergency, like times of natural disaster, major weather events, or occasional star-flares disrupting normal communications, we append audio signals onto natural ion trails in our atmosphere. Ions trails occur because of the extensive daily storms on Fell. Lightning can be dense, and deadly, but is normally atmospheric discharges, not air-to-ground strikes. Our lower atmospheres border on consistent electrical activity. Electrical discharges create ions, and the prevailing winds create ionic trails.” Storm waited for any questions. No one required clarification.
“Centuries ago, Fell engineers discovered a way for audio signals to ride the trails. It is rarely used anymore. Weather and other natural phenomenon do not affect modern communications systems.”
“In a case like this,” Sky interjected, “invaded, people scattered, and hiding, techs would use the ion trails to maintain communications. The Zenge could not listen, unless they knew the exact bandwidths. Because the signals are embedded in naturally occurring phenomenon, they would go undetected.”
“So we can communicate with your people in hiding,” Elie concluded. “You can let them know we’re here, and trying to get too them. They can provide intel on surface conditions.”
“Not from here,” Storm said. “It is impossible to append ion trails from above the stratosphere. Storms occur inside the lowest atmospheric level, the troposphere. Ion discharges rise into the stratosphere, or about thirty miles above the surface, but become too dispersed above that to hold an artificial signal.”
“We need to fly in or beneath the clouds,” Coop said. “That means we must be on the planet. Demon is stealthy enough to get close, but how do we enter the atmosphere without them spotting us? The entry blaze would warn the Zenge.”
“There is a chance,” Storm replied, turning back to the monitor at her station. “Two occurrences fall in our favor. Twice, in the patterns used by the Zenge Primaries, they fly behind moons on the far side of the horizon. There is currently a hurricane in the southern sea of our second largest ocean, Eastera. If Demon’s entry brings us in above the disturbed weather, and then through the hurricane, the fire trail created by entering the atmosphere might appear as something freaky caused by the storm. Factor in the top layers of our atmosphere are thin, and the troposphere dense, and we will, most likely, arrive undetected.”
“Best time?” Elie asked.
“Twenty hours, or we miss the hurricane while it remains over water,” Storm replied, turning back around. “Over land, someone might see us.”
“Then we go in one hour,” Coop said. “We will transit in space-fold for nineteen hours. Elie, it means entering natural space within the exosphere of the planet. We’ll emerge about 500 miles above the surface, coming in hot, and deep inside the gravity well. Can Demon handle the stress?”
“No one has ever been dumb enough to try exiting space-fold inside an atmosphere. Looks like we discover the answer together. When we exit, I’ll use maneuvering engines only, make sure we’re tilted at the proper angle, and dive through the top couple of layers into a raging hurricane. What could possibly go wrong?”
CHAPTER 24
Imagine driving along on a highway, at a high rate of speed, and accidentally running your car onto the shoulder. Then you keep going onto the rough surface past the shoulder. Now imagine you did this on a motorcycle. You get an idea of the experience for those inside the ship during transition.
Pretend you kept going beyond the shoulder, hit a gravel pit, in the middle of a thunderstorm, with hundred-plus mile-per-hour winds, and no hands on the handlebars. Demon’s entry was rougher.
“Head northwest. Stay within the zone where the troposphere and stratosphere mingle,” Storm shouted at Elie. Normal conversation had no chance, even within the soundproofed cabin. The noise from the storm, combined with the engines fighting to maintain speed and level flight made anything less than a shout inaudible.
Elie, Mags, and Storm occupied seats with harnesses. Coop held Sky on a bunk. Her body pressed against the bulkhead. He braced behind her, using his strength to keep them from getting tossed around the cabin.
The ship stopped bucking at the same time Elie told them, “We’re past the hurricane, riding the troposphere.”
“No reaction,” Storm reported. “No special chatter from any of the ships in space, or anyone on the ground. We did it. I’m sending messages now.”
Sky rolled over to face Coop. “Next time, we try this naked." She crawled over him to stand and stretch. “Elie, you are an amazing pilot.”
“If the Fell use these bands for communications, will others hear you contacting the lab?” Coop asked.
“If other Fellen happen to monitor the same broadband channels, they will hear encoded messaging,” Storm explained to Coop. “We use open communications, allowing anyone with the proper equipment to send or receive messages. Different tribes, and even families within a tribe, use codes for private communications.”
“He was listening. A reply is already back from ASparquila, my cousin. Sky’s brother,” Storm said. “His lab is under siege. He estimates ten-thousand Zenge outside the bunker doors. The lab remained hidden for months, but they located him three weeks ago. Blast-doors holding, but supplies running low.” Storm turned to her cousin. “Sky, your parents are with him. Your two younger sisters have been captured. My father is alive. He escaped in a life-pod, but injured on re-entry. He’s with resistance fighters on the western continent.”
Her eyes turned golden-orange, and her skin shade a
darker blue. Warning them of a rising blood pressure. “Mischene military officers command the Zenge forces. ASparquila intercepted messages between them. Mischene operate the spaceships. Mischene troops on the surface support Zenge military units.”
Coop ignored the news for the moment. “When will we reach his location?”
Storm provided the location. “At Mach 6, forty-five minutes,” Mags answered.
“Any way into the bunker, other than the front door?” he asked.
Storm relayed the question, and waited on the coded reply. “There is an escape hatch. It’s located in a cave three miles west of the bunker. Tunnel built and a power sled installed during the lab’s original construction. No indication the Zenge, or the Mischene know about the cave.
“Coop, it’s two-thirds of the way up a mountain. Flying Demon in would be obvious. Repelling down, or climbing up, someone will see you. Trying the climb at night is beyond treacherous.”
“They designed an escape route that is impossible to use?” Coop asked.
“An escape built for emergencies. No one considered an invasion force.”
It would not count as the first time he discovered someone’s grand scheme contained a single, simple, fatal flaw.
“What is the day-night cycle at the bunker now?” he asked.
“Night for eight more hours,” Storm answered.
“How much time to travel from the lab to the escape hatch?”
“Thirty minutes.”