by Don Foxe
“Smaller systems, like those for spaceships, use smaller loads, and need less time to recycle. The cannons for the PT class, and those for the new Destroyer class ships require fifteen minutes. Fighters need ten minutes. The cannons for ships, and fighters also have smaller effective ranges. Approximately 200,000 miles for full effect.”
Trent took a moment before continuing. “If a tachyon weapon is charged, but not fired within thirty-minutes of attaining energy capacity, the particles become unstable. Maintaining cohesion can continue for no more than thirty minutes.”
“And then?” Coop asked.
“And then, the system self-destructs,” Trent replied. “The weapon will blow, and the bigger the cannon, the bigger the blast. On the ground, you will lose everything and everybody within a mile of the blast center. On a ship, or platform, it creates a breach capable of destroy everything. Total devastation due to the force of the blast, or the resulting implosions.” The scientist paused, allowing the vision of annihilation to create an impression.
“If you find yourself with a loaded weapon, and no target, I suggest you fire the load into an open region of space. Otherwise, you must bleed the system, releasing the tachyon particles slowly. Bleeding, and then recharging will take six-hours minimum. It doesn’t matter the size of the system. Trying to speed the release could result in an explosion.”
Trent completed his presentation with, “The energy required to fire a tachyon burst comes from a crystal. Our problem is, we have a limited supply of crystals.”
“That brings us back to the importance of Rys,” Patterson interjected, taking back the SHD. “If we persuade the Lisza Kaugh to provide Earth with more crystals, we will have the resources to operate more space-fold arrays. Then we build more ships, and more tachyon cannons. We will, in return, provide the technology they can apply to build their own additional cannons. Weapons to defend their planet.”
“If the Zenge are already there?” Cooper asked.
“Then you have three choices, Captain,” Patterson said. “If you determine you are under-prepared, unable to reach the authorities on Rys, or facing superior forces, then you leave. If you can confront the enemy with a high degree of certainty of defeating them, then engage. Option three is covertly reach the planet, and collect crystals without confronting the Zenge. This is not a suicide mission.”
“Since there is the potential for confrontation,” Trent speaking again, “we are bringing the 109 back to Earth. Our technicians will refit her with a tachyon cannon. Laser weapons appeared the least effective in your previous battle. We will replace your ship’s bottom-mounted laser with a tachyon system. We will also provide your Chief Engineer with the supplies needed to construct a half-dozen surface-based tachyon weapons systems. These surface-to-space cannons are capable of firing bursts effective to half-a-million miles. The only thing needed to complete the weapons are crystals, cut to the proper size and shape.”
“You want my people to provide crystals for future ships, and weapons. In return, you will provide the technology to defend our planet?” Yauni asked.
“Yes, and more,” Patterson replied. “We want Rys to align itself with Earth, as the first to join a mutual defense pact. We are gifting your people the equipment, and the technology to build the weapon systems. We would appreciate, in return, they provide Earth with raw crystals. Additional crystals will allow us to build more ships. Those ships represent home defense, and the capability to reach other star systems. The additional assets will allow Earth to help defend planets, like Rys, and give us the ability to confront, and defeat the Zenge.”
“But you will not demand Rys provide you with crystals to gain the weapons?” Korr asked, seeking clarification.
“Precisely. Your responsibility, Judge Korr, is convincing the authorities on Rys an alliance built on trust will benefit everyone. Strengthening an alliance with trade can follow, but the security of our worlds must come before commerce.”
“How much time needed for the tachyon cannon install on Kennedy?” Coop asked.
Trent answered: “Three or four days. We need to remove the laser cannon before installing your new tachyon cannon.”
“We return, and everybody gets shore-leave. Then back in the saddle, test the cannon, along with other weapons, and systems while awaiting the FDR to complete trials. Afterward, we head for Rys,” Coop said.
“Succinct and correct,” the Admiral replied. “Yauni, and Dr. Karen Ordon [the astrophysicist], along with a team from Dr. Trent’s astro-mapping center, have determined Rys location relative to Earth. It’s 4.3 thousand parsecs [4.3kpc], near the constellation of Sagittarius. It will take the 109 four-days, four-hours to escape the solar system, and another four days to the Rys system.”
“What about the other world’s under attack? Osperantue, Fell, and the Aster system?” Cooper asked.
“Your priorities are to retrieve crystals, and return them to Earth,” the Admiral told him, and the others at the table. “Once we secure those, we can begin installing defenses, and build more ships capable of space-fold. The additional crystals will power the assets needed to mount a viable response to the Zenge.” She left the promise to confront the Zenge unsaid.
“I know you have crew members from those worlds, and they, understandably, want to act quickly to save as many of their people as possible, but the 109 is one ship, Captain. Estimates place the Zenge fleet upward to potentially one-thousand ships. We require numbers to respond to such a threat. Anyone who is not on board with this mission, as stated, can remain on Earth. Is that clear?”
A chorus of “Yes, Ma’am’s” answered. Coop noted neither Sky nor Storm responded, but neither did they raise objections.
“Captain Cooper, make all haste returning to EMS2. Engineers are on stand-by,” Patterson said, closing the connection.
CHAPTER 6
Inspections, drills, reviews and repeats kept everyone busy. All aboard accepted the importance of preparation. They understood the need to work together seamlessly in the face of a common threat. To a person they hated the entire experience. The mix of aliens and humans operating as teams grew more natural with each passing test. That different species were equally tired, bored, and bitching brought them closer.
The other potentially awkward aspect of the John F. Kennedy’s blended personnel stemmed from her secondary mission. The 109’s commission included they explore distant worlds, and make contact with other species. Journeys meant spending weeks, months, and possibly years away from Earth. Humans, aliens, males, and females housed in close-quarters for extended periods. Emotions would fray, and others would bloom. Contentious interactions anticipated, including arguments, fights, and affairs.
Coop tested the systems. He reviewed every practice and drill, but there was no way to test the limits of people until they encountered a real trial. The vetting process for the original crew involved a year of examining records, and interviewing personnel. That time and effort provided him with insight into the military members now under his command.
The scientists selected received his approval, but Hiro was the only one he knew. The aliens added last, by his request, reduced Space Fleet’s vetting process to weeks instead of months. No one had experience checking backgrounds on people from another part of the galaxy.
Final approval for inclusion eventually fell to Captain Cooper’s authority.
Sky and Storm, aliens designated as civilian contractors, received permission to join the 109 for their technical abilities, not their personal involvement with Cooper. They proved their value as capable specialists during the Zenge conflict.
The cousins shared assigned quarters, but spent a majority of their time in Coop’s cabin. The relationship was no secret. The entire planet watched delayed video of the battle at the edge of the system, and the three became celebrities.
A human, and aliens romantically linked, and able to work together professionally might help human crew members accept aliens aboard ship as part of life
in outer space. Or they could see him as biased. Or blinded.
Personnel under alien supervision appeared to accept their superiors as qualified, and knowledgable. The humans selected for the crew commonly expressed a desire to venture into the galaxy. It made sense these same people more apt to accept aliens as equals. The SFPT-109, John F. Kennedy became an experiment in human-alien evolution.
An integrated crew on sorties into far off solar systems could only help. Space flight and cross-species encounters were nothing novel for the survivors from the Star Gazer. If the mixed crew performed above expectations, Space Fleet would take a giant step toward building bridges between Earth and the other worlds in the galaxy. If they screwed up, it would cause one ginormous step backward.
“Thinking deep thoughts?” Sky asked. They shared the Captain’s office. Coop behind his desk, and Sky curled on a modest sofa, reading a Harry Potter novel. She was on number three or four, hooked after Genna suggested the tales of magic during a weekend visit to Earth.
Sky illustrated beauty by any standard. Her deep auburn hair framed an oval face. Her golden colored eyes, shaped, and similar to a cat’s. If angered, or excited, her eyes grew darker, the gold bleeding into darker burnt oranges. Her skin acted the same way. At the moment it was a light blue, meaning she was content. If her blood pressure rose, her coloring darkened. She was like a mood ring. Five-foot-ten, 135-pounds of extraordinary strength, and agility. Sky was buxom, but firm, round through the hips, yet still slender. When she uncurled, and walked toward him, she moved with grace. Her footfalls light and balanced.
“Thinking about the interaction between humans and the aliens,” he replied. She walked around the desk, stepped over his legs, sat on the edge of the desk, and faced him.
“You mean like the interaction I’m about to start?” she asked.
“Not exactly, though it may come up,” he replied.
She pulled the gray sweater over her head. “It’s definitely coming up,” she assured him. She leaned forward, her breasts entirely in his face, reached down, and pulled his sweater off. Then unbuttoned the shirt beneath the pullover. She was pulling it out of his pants, when the door to his cabin opened, and Storm walked in.
“Thank goodness,” Storm said. She continued toward them, pulling the skin-tight black top off as she neared. Slightly shorter, and curvier than Sky, her breasts were bigger, rounder, and bounced as she walked. “I was going to see if anyone wanted to go to the gym for a workout, but this is a much better option.”
He had never thought to find out if his office was sound proofed. Guess they were about to discover the answer.
CHAPTER 7
Genna and Tista shared tea and a table in the mess. Tista describing her first official trip assisting her mother, when they encountered the Zenge.
“My Mother was mediating a dispute between two traders. The meeting held aboard her ship, Peaceful Returns. We received only a brief warning from the captain about a wormhole arrival. The Zenge exited with twenty ships. They attacked, taking control of the undefended multi-gate site quickly. Peaceful Returns was surrounded, then boarded. Ventierran do not operate armed space ships, nor do we carry, or allow weapons on board.”
Too-slender for the borrowed clothing, the dark-olive complexion of the alien did not hide the deep-set sorrow that spread from her black eyes, shadowing her pretty features. She sipped chamomile tea. The light apple scent carried only as far as the two women seated at the corner table. The combination of the tea’s herbs, scent, and warmth calmed her.
Genna knew a little of the story. Tista, her mother, eighteen crew members, including delegation assistants, four Pagora, and five Parrian, the two species involved in the dispute, thrown into hastily constructed cells on the Parrian’s cargo ship. She survived the succeeding six months as a captive. Freed by Space Fleet Marine’s during the Battle for the Star Gazer.
“I watched twelve fellow Ventierran, two Pagora, and the five Parrian taken away. Everyone knew why they were removed, but no one wanted to admit their fate, or discuss our own.”
The Zenge species, a lizard-like race of omnivores, fed on captives. At least some of the Zenge did. No one knew if eating the enemy was species-wide. No one knew a great deal regarding Zenge habits. They attacked worlds. They killed millions, if not billions of normally peaceful people. No one, alien or human, knew why.
Tista attempted to explain life as a captive to Genna. “The Zenge never talked to us. They did not insult us, or goad us, or comfort us. They treated everyone exactly the same as the animals held in other cages. We were fed enough to keep us alive. Given water, hosed down occasionally, and left alone until someone was taken for the butcher.
“The most awful thing,” Tista dropped her eyes to her mug. She gripped it with both hands, elbows firmly placed on the tabletop. She made a conscious effort to not tremble. “The most awful thing was hoping they would take someone else each time they came.” She sighed before completing her confession. “Then hating myself for thinking such a thing.”
Tista, at five-six, an average height, weighed only one-oh-five. That after gaining twenty-pounds following the rescue from the cargo ship. She needed another fifteen to twenty-pounds. Her gaunt face accentuated high cheekbones, and narrow chin. A long, straight Greek nose, and full, but not pouty lips. She could pass as a human from the Mediterranean region of Earth.
The borrowed Fleet-issued civilian grays hung on her too-thin frame, giving the elegant beauty a child-like appearance.
“They took the children first.” Tears ran down the Ventierran’s face. She wiped them with a napkin. “We fought, or tried to fight. Every species, every race, every adult tried to stop them. There were too many, and they used shock rods to herd us. Anyone who fought too hard received shocks until knocked unconscious. Dozens of us littered the floors. The cries of the children taken away haunt my dreams.
“They even took the young animals. The carvide [wolf-like animals from the planet Testerray] had two pups with them. The adults fought virtually to the death trying to protect their young. When the Zenge passed my cell, one snapped the neck of a pup. The whines of the other one still wake me at night. The howls of the carvide filled the storage bay for a week. After all of the young had been taken, everyone simply gave up.”
Genna picked up a napkin to wipe away her own tears. The despair in Tista’s voice was palpable.
The engineered-human, proffered a vivid contrast to the alien. Her profile strong, eyes bright, and posture straight. Her light-colored hair accented with a royal blue streak on the right side. Storm convinced her the blue dye would demonstrate she had an impulsive side. She did not possess a whimsical nature, and rarely experienced any impulse she felt compelled to act upon. She did consider Storm her friend, and acquiesced to the vagary.
Dark blue eyes above a turned-up nose, and a light sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks, gave her a waif-like aspect. The bio-engineering increased her strength and speed well beyond normal human standards.
At five-eight, one-thirty, Genna filled out her uniform properly, down to the kevlar-leather soft-sole boots, expressly crafted for her as a gift from Captain Cooper.
She may not embrace whimsy, but she certainly felt empathy.
Genna slipped her hands around the alien’s, holding her’s, as she held the cup. Tista had been attempting to cope with the psychological pain of her capture for months. She spent time with therapists on Earth, as well as with Dr. Burton, the psychiatrist aboard the 109. She opened up to Genna more in the past few minutes, than with any counselor in the past few months.
The avatar released her new friend, pushed away from the table, and stood. Reaching for Tista’s hand once more, she said, “Come with me.”
Tista did not resist. Standing, she asked, “Where?”
“We are going to the uniform supply room. I happen to know the Chief Supply Officer for MSD, and he has connections here on EMS2. We are going to get you properly fitted clothes.”
Tista actually smiled. “That would be nice.”
The two debarked the 109 on what became a space station equivalent of girls’ day out. That evening, when Tista fell asleep, she slept through the night.
CHAPTER 8
Nathan Trent and Manny Hernandez placed three crystals atop the conference table.
Yauni Taper Catacta, a towering seven-foot member of the Lisza Kaugh race, dominated C-TAC. Thick, light-brown hair covered the giant, except for a humanoid face framed by brushed tresses. Yauni held up the largest crystal to examine the physical appearance from multiple angles.
“It is from Rys, my planet. I am positive. I have never seen this cut before. It was not accomplished by hand, even with a fine chisel. The number of facets, and the clarity of the crystal is remarkable. At first look, it appears smooth. When you run your hands over it, you can sense a thousand facets.”
Dr. Nathan Trent, his chief engineer, Dr. Manny Hernandez, astrophysicist Dr. Karen Ordon, planetologist Dr. Hiroshi Kimura, and Tasha Korr sat at the table, waiting for Yauni to complete his examination.
He handed the crystal, the size of a football, to Dr. Kimura. He selected another, slightly smaller than the first, but similar in design.
“The flat top of the crystal is the table,” he said.
Dr. Trent interjected, “When we set up a space-fold array, the main laser is focused at the table’s center. Once precisely aimed, the light appears to spread through the crystal, following from the crown along facets and into the pavilion [the body of the crystal]. The crystal transforms the light into an energy source, which emerges at the bottom.”
“The bottom is the cutlet,” Yauni said, and continued, “and these crystals have rounded cutlets. Normally they would come to a point, or sometimes a flat surface, similar to the table. To round a cutlet would take a lot of time by hand. Or require an extraordinary piece of equipment the Lisza Kaugh do not possess.”