by Don Foxe
He stepped into the heat and humidity of the rainforest, and marveled how the METS kept him cool and comfortable. A stop at the command tent to collect his data, and the commander-in-chief of the Fellen Special Operations and Insertion Mission headed for the last command group mission preparation review. To reach the clearing for ships, he needed to jog a mile through a military tent city. In his high-tech wear, the run was literally no sweat.
Nathan Trent met him at the Morgan’s ramp.
“I need to speak with you before you begin your briefing.” The Head of Sciences led Coop to a hover-car parked near the ship. They entered the rear compartment. No one sat in front. Trent unlatched and deployed a view screen tucked away in the headliner of the car.
“You are looking at a live feed from Mars,” Trent said. On the screen, a ship Coop did not recognize. “It’s a Wraith design,” Trent explained. “In fact, she is the one and only Wraith. Her design and construction have been my personal hobby for the past few years. Creation and assembly also provided a means of evaluating cutting-edge research and development projects.”
“It looks mean,” Coop said, sliding forward in his seat to inspect the unfamiliar craft. “The nose looks like a Shelby Cobra from the twentieth century.”
“Good eye,” Trent replied. “The Cobra has always been a favorite of mine. This ship was designed by me, paid for by me, and built for me. I incorporated the Shelby grill. But we don’t have time for me to go into all of the Wraith’s details.”
The video feed stopped, and the screen returned to the overhead compartment.
“The Wraith is the stealthiest spaceship ever built. Using composite materials, design angles, and recently developed sensory dampening technology, the ship is undetectable by every scanning system known. You could land her on a Mischene battlecruiser before they realized she shared the same space. Second important point. She operates by AI”
“Avatar, too?”
“If you mean is there a ‘Genna,’ then no. It is designed as a two-person fighter, but because of the advanced AI, I can program the ship to perform as an autonomic drone.”
“Okay, I suppose this is important enough to delay the briefing. We can add the Wraith to the mission, without needing to train a crew. I can use it as a drone for recon missions. But I do not trust it as part of the squadron,” Coop said. Eager to move on to his briefing, he dismissed the ship’s importance.
“I’ve already initiated the Wraith into your mission,” Trent responded. “Sort of pre-mission actually. I sent her to the Fell system, and programmed the AI to recon the region and report back.”
“You ran a reconnaissance into enemy space, using an experimental spaceship, without a crew, and without telling me?”
“Pam knew,” Trent offered in partial defense. “We decided not to tell you in case the Wraith failed to return.”
“And what about the chance you warn the Mischene we might be up to something, like sending an expedition force, which usually happens after an enemy deploys a scout?” Coop, who was slow to anger, becoming angry. “The capture, even the detection of your ship could put the entire mission in jeopardy.”
“True,” Trent admitted. “It wasn’t. It spent thirty-six hours in the Fell system, including surface scans of Fell. The intel is here,” he handed Cooper a data stick. “Here’s the short version. Mischene and Zenge forces appear unchanged since your recon and engagement with Demon.”
Coop, calmer since the news was good. Sending the Wraith reeked of risk, but it finished successfully. “Confirmation of enemy forces means the mission blueprint, based on my earlier numbers, remains reasonable.”
“As of one week ago,” Trent said. “The time between needed for the Wraith to exit the Fell system, return to Mars, and analysts to assess the information. A synopsis appears on the first page of your download. Besides Mischene and Zenge assets unchanged, the Fell are doing a damn good job of fighting back. Communication intercepts indicate modification of Zenge ground forces into smaller units. A larger number of smaller units addresses the increasing number of hotspots on the planet. Evidently short on weapons, the Fell still manage to use their limited assets to full effect. They also possess technology capable of concealing them from enemy scans.”
“Did your drone attempt to contact the resistance?”
“It never entered the atmosphere. It could not access the ozone communications channels. It intercepted enemy transmissions from ship-to-ship, ship-to-surface, and surface broadcasts. That’s how we know they are having difficulty pinpointing resistance camps. They rely primarily on surface-based search teams. That’s the reason they currently deploy smaller units on the planet.”
“Providing another advantage for our side. Instead of facing a superior force, we will confront only superior numbers. After we eliminate air support, we locate and isolate their ground units. Our people engage the smaller Zenge units with superior numbers, weapons, or both.”
“The argument Admiral Patterson used to persuade the UEC to authorize your mission,” Trent said, delivering the news like a proud Mama. “Your final Reports and Review briefing has become the announcement of Phase Three, Coop. The mission to Fell is approved.”
Coop hugged his friend. “You could have led with that, Nathan. It would have saved a lot of time.”
“No way. I wanted to build the suspense,” Trent replied. “And it is no longer the Fellen Special Operations and Insertion Mission. We are now Operation Crossroads. Whatever happens, Earth is no longer an isolate planet.”
Coop slapped Nathan on the shoulder. “Let’s go start the celebration. It’s going to get real, and real busy after we announce Operation Crossroad.”
The two exited the hover-car. The last officers and NCOs requested to attend the briefing were ahead of them, making their way up the Morgan’s ramp. At the same time, Morgan crew members were returning from small arms training. One of the crew, obviously Bosine, spied Coop and Trent and rushed toward them.
“Captain Cooper,” he said, coming to a halt. “I am Palornitsch. I volunteered to work as an engineer on the Parrian cargo vessel.”
“Thank you for serving, Palornitsch. I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Coop explained, hoping the man would understand and step aside.
“I was on board the Star Gazer with my family,” Palornitsch continued, ignoring Cooper’s attempt to disengage. “It was my son you murdered.”
Stunned by the man’s words, Coop failed to react when the Bosine raised his laser pistol and began firing.
CHAPTER 45
“I’ve promoted Mags to Captain. She will command Angel 7.”
Admiral Patterson addressed Captain Casalobos. Colonel Gregory, also present for the meeting, sat beside Elena. The three gathered to confirm final modifications before Operation Crossroads went hot. “Any recommendations on her replacement as your co-pilot?”
“I want Folly to move from com-tac to co-pilot, and before you object, she may not have Space Fleet pilot certifications, but she has experience. She was a qualified pilot for the Osperantue, and spent time in left and right seats during mission training. I trust her.”
“I can provide a special dispensation for the lack of a certification,” Patterson replied. “That she earned your trust is more important. Your com-tac needs someone.”
“Sparks,” Elie replied, without hesitation.
Patterson considered arguing against ASparquila. That he and Storm were assets too important to risk both. But they were Fellen, and he would constitute more of an asset on site than on Earth. “Agreed. Human, Osperantue, and Fellen. Quite an intergalactic crew for Demon.”
“Appropriate,” Elie replied.
“Are the two of you comfortable with co-command of the mission?”
Anton chuckled. “We are neither Daniel Cooper, and only he had his hands on air and ground forces, but, together, we can fill maybe one shoe.”
Elie smiled at her friend and colleague. “We know how to work together. He’ll
have final say on surface tactics. I’ll take lead on everything in the air and in space.”
“If you disagree on something?” Patterson asked.
“We do one of two things,” Anton responded. “We can ask ourselves, ‘what would Coop do?’”
“Or?” the Admiral asked, afraid of, and eager for the snarky Russian’s answer.
“We turn everything over to Rachelle. She has no fear of telling everyone what they should do.”
Patterson and Casalobos laughed.
“What of Daniel Petrovich?” Anton asked. “What is latest news?”
“He’s alive,” the Fleet Admiral answered. “He’s located at the Fleet medical facilities here, in Toronto. Nathan and the UEC brought in every specialist they can find, but no one has any real answers.” She opened her personal data pad. The site updating Coop’s condition opened immediately. She set it to refresh every time she looked at her pad.
“The METS could not stop the lasers, but the material diminished their power. He took hits to the chest and abdomen. His lungs and liver were damaged, along with stomach, intestinal track, and pancreas. He suffered broken and burned ribs. His spine is intact. His left arm, bicep, took a through-and-through. The good news about lasers, they cauterize while they try to kill you. Otherwise, with the number of wounds inflicted, he would have bled out.”
“The head shot?” Anton asked, aware of battle wounds, consequences, and the real issue facing Coop.
“Laser cut across his skull and damaged a portion of the brain. Seared it, actually,” Patterson said. “The doctors agree the brain injury is why he is non-responsive.”
Strong as she may appear, the Spaniard felt herself dying inside. Daniel Cooper, for thirty years, the single most important person in her life, lay critical, fighting for his life. Not having him available, frightened her. He was her rock. Regardless of their personal ups and downs, he was always there. Always. Losing him represented a reality she could not face.
“His genetics?” Elie asked.
“The reengineering is helping. His body is trying to regenerate, but there is significant damage. It’s difficult for the doctors to quantify progress. Whether brain tissue is able to revivify, absolutely no one has a clue. Even if the cells regrow, they may or may not function the same as before.”
“We may not get him back, or he may come back a modified version,” Anton concluded, aloud.
“Shut up, Grigori,” Elie ordered. “You have more thoughts like those, you keep them to yourself. Understand?”
“Sorry, Elie. I pretend I find Daniel Petrovich a pain in the ass, but I love him nearly as much as you. I will keep the bad thoughts locked away.”
“How did Palornitsch ever get assigned to the Morgan?” Elie demanded from Patterson. “Don’t they vet aliens? Didn’t someone know his son was the rapist Coop killed on the Star Gazer?”
“The same question currently asked by powerful people in the UEC,” Patterson replied. “It points out the lack of background we have on the Osperantue from the Star Gazer. They also use single names. Our systems cannot automatically match and cross-reference as they do with human surnames. He told no one about his son, and his interviews generated no red flags. He volunteered, he was a qualified engineer, he was accepted. His crossing paths with Coop, at that moment, with a laser pistol, was bad timing.”
“If not then, he would have found a way later,” Anton said. “He volunteered for the chance at revenge.”
“Traditionalists will use it as one more reason we need to pull back from allowing aliens in Space Fleet,” Patterson added. “Ironic, when you consider Coop is their number one advocate. Speaking of, how are Sky and Storm?”
“Tough,” Elie replied. “Heartbroken, concerned, worried, and stronger than anyone realized. They have every intention of continuing on the mission. They realize they cannot do a thing to help him heal faster, and will not sit waiting, wringing their hands in despair. Sky’s words.”
“You will receive updates automatically,” she promised. “If he recovers, he’ll demand to join you.”
“When he recovers,” Elie corrected.
“When he recovers,” Patterson amended. “As soon as he gets medical clearance, I’ll ship him your way.”
The meeting over, Casalobos and Gregory rose and came to attention. Patterson stood to address her field commanders.
“Operation Crossroads is in your hands,” she said. “See it completed. God’s speed, to you both.”
“Ma’am!” they responded in unison.
The two departed the office, and Patterson sat down, her hand automatically reaching for her pad. Numbers and symbols filled the screen, but she saw Daniel Marcel Cooper’s face, not his erratic medical readings. “God’s speed, Coop. I hope he’s listening, because we cannot afford to lose you.”
ELSEWHERE
“This is our opportunity to tip the scales back.” The older man, dressed in white thawb covered by a black bisht cloak, stood, looking out the window of his office on the forty-fourth floor.
“People support the decision to liberate Fell,” his visitor said.
“When reports of dead humans start coming in, and the casualties mount, those same people will begin to question the decision to help aliens. We are not too far removed from the violence that nearly destroyed the planet during and after the pandemic. People will not long support another conflict, especially one trillions of miles away.”
“We will need to leak what happens on Fell to the media,” replied the other man, dressed in modern business suit, but unable to disguise his military bearing. “The reports will carry classified status. The UEC will scrub any bad news before releasing it to the public.”
“That is why our strategy included developing our own contacts over the past few years,” the olive-skinned man replied. He turned away from the view of the UEC and Space Fleet complex. “Every person who dies will be named, and their picture prominently displayed across every media information site. Their families interviewed, and their loss mourned. Every day someone dies on Fell, we will sanctify them on Earth. Any day we do not have a death to report, our friends in the media will run heart-wrenching stories of how children miss their lost parent, spouses left alone, relatives grieving the dead, left on an alien world. Any losses to the Zenge will get reported as if inconsequential. Over time, the public will begin to take on the bitter disappointment shown by the empathetic reporters.”
Code name Hadritak among the members of the Camarilla Devolvere, the man from the Middle East began the movement to destroy the United Earth Council and return power to regional rulers a decade earlier. Hadritak literally translated to ‘your presence,’ and fit.
“What about our plans to seed a religious crisis?” The Westerner asked.
He had taken the code name Cancer. The disease once frightened people to such a level, the word became associated with evil. His desire to take down Space Fleet from within, and his astrological sign of the Crab, both led to his choice. It tickled his dark ego to compare himself to a malignant, incurable scourge from the past.
“The brew is mixed. Our faithful allies will bring everything to a boil, while the UEC is busy concentrating on extraterrestrial concerns,” Hadritak replied. “The arrival of non-terrestrials happened at the most opportune time. The devolution of the UEC, and the return to sovereign nations, led by those who know best how to govern our regions, brought our coalition together. I knew religion provided the keystone for our eventual success. The arrival of the aliens helped set everything in motion.”
“The return to sovereign nations, Hadritak, but not necessarily the same nations as before,” Cancer amended. “We share the same goal, but each of us has an agenda, and each of us will control our portion of the planet.”
“Once the UEC and the Board of Governors are disbanded, and during the time the military falls under our control, the planet will become reorganized to our specifications,” the Arab acknowledged.
“The aliens’ arriv
al, and the ensuing conflicts once again raise the question of God and man. Doubts created when Fairchild discovered the Martian hangar. From the Vatican, to Mecca, to Jerusalem and around the world, religious leaders desperately try to maintain order. Is there a God? Do aliens believe in God? Do they know truths we do not? Loss of the immortal soul is a frightening concept.”
Hadritak believed in Sharia law. His life devoted to returning his world to Allah’s path. To attain his goal, he constructed the Camarilla Devolvere, and convinced those he recruited his true desires involved wealth and power. These were the drugs craved by those in positions able to further his agenda.
“Religious groups who have sniped at each other for centuries, are combining to ask if aliens represent God, the devil, or something worse,” he told Cancer. “Those religious leaders we own must continue to use their charismatic voices to ask if the UEC and Space Fleet are corrupted by evil in disguise.”
What religious people believed did not interest Cancer. Organized religion’s history chronicled the pursuit of God’s favor creating discord, and crushing it in equal measure. Either action bred frustration, and frustration created rebellion. He needed a rebellion.
He briefed Hadritak on his most recent accomplishment.
“With Patterson preoccupied planning the Fell mission, I have moved most of the aliens assigned to Space Fleet off of ships, and off of the orbital stations. My people will transfer the aliens to surface installations under the pretense of certification training and advanced education courses. Officers who joined our coalition, or those we recognize as sympathetic to humans-only in the military service, have been placed into positions of command.”
The mastermind of the movement to un-unite Earth replied, “The UEC will react to the changing mood of the general population. At first they will attempt to mitigate growing distaste for aliens and alien adventures by segregating the Osperantue on Earth. As the media, religious leaders, traditionalists in the military, and separatists incite more active disobedience, the UEC will increase military controls, adding fuel to the growing fire.”