by Don Foxe
In the fifteen-minutes from impact to the final death throes of the two ships, Jon-Jon positioned the 109’s nose above the final Primary. Genna released two non-nuclear torpedoes. Seconds before they reached the superstructure, she fired a tachyon burst. The cannon fire lit up the SHD. When their eyes readjusted from the flash, the bridge team watched the only remaining Primary in the rear guard break into four distinct pieces. Those pieces continued to fragment into smaller segments.
On his private channel, Cooper received a message from Storm. “Coop, Loba says you are a ‘showoff,’ and Magpie says ‘yippee-ki-ya, mother fucker.’ Storm, out.”
“Captain,” Kebede nearly screamed at him. “The five mini-mothers linked their power systems and fired five plasma projectiles.”
“Evasive action, Mr. Johnson,” Cooper ordered.
“Sir,” Kebede said, now standing behind her console. “They fired at the planet. Targeting indicates one for each moon base, one for each platform, and one headed for the palace. At the accelerated speed, from this distance, they will impact in thirty-minutes.”
“Storm, Demon to space-fold, protect the planet. Plasma rounds coming in hot. You should have a fifteen to twenty-minute window on arrival. We’re coming in behind you, Coop out.” To the Ethiopian, “Col. Kebede, please put your harness back on, and do not remove it again, or I will staple it on. Do you understand?”
“Demon has entered space-fold,” Kebede announced. “Harness on, and keeping it on. Sorry, Captain.”
“Kennedy, space-fold, now!" The AI, having monitored everything, was prepared for the order. She took the PT-109 to space-fold, punching velocity to 47,619,047mph. They would arrive a couple of minutes after the faster Demon, and have maybe fifteen-minutes to acquire, then shoot down plasma-fired flaming-hot projectiles traveling at eight-million miles-per-hour.
“Exiting space-fold,” Folly announced ten-minutes later. They entered natural space, and got nearly blown apart by a tachyon burst fired from one of the orbital platforms.
“They’re trying to shoot the incoming projectiles down,” Genna said. Coop held in a ‘no shit,’ and, instead, requested targeting solutions. “Kennedy has them,” the avatar informed him. “Demon is tracking the first projectile. Loba is flying toward it, to improve the odds of a hit with their railgun.”
“Pilot, park us between the incoming plasma rounds and the planet. Sky, please ask Rys’ stations not to kill us. Genna, fire all torpedoes. Clear the tubes and keep firing until you see empty sky. Kennedy, set the laser cannon for beam, not burst. Sindy, what’s happening with Demon?”
The systems operator, back in her seat, her heart rate back under control, reported, “Demon using her railgun. She’s laying down a field of fire. Rapid bursts. Single projectile impact. Incoming plasma round is disintegrating. Four got through. Demon is pursuing.”
“Sky, apprise Loba to make a quick fold. Get between the 109 and Rys. She can’t catch the loads from behind. We will launch upward from this position. I would hate to take them out by accident, so tell her to make sure she’s beyond our line of fire.”
“Done,” Sky replied.
Plasma bursts flew by the 109, fired from the planet and both moons. At least they realized the tachyon cannons could not hit something as tightly packed and fast as a plasma load. The speed of the loads made it nearly impossible to correctly calculate a path for a hit.
The PT-109, however, was designed for exactly this type of warfare. She is, after all, a PATROL - TORPEDO boat, and she is fast, and she is sure.
“Genna, lock five torpedoes to one projectile. Send all twenty at the incoming spread. If they cannot lock, engage proximity charges. If they get within one-hundred miles, let’s see if a proximal blast can take them out, or change their course. If they fail to make direct contact, maybe a concussive wave will have an effect.”
The Captain sat relaxed in his chair, issuing orders. He had his legs crossed, and gave the appearance of a man patiently waiting for something interesting to occur.
“Contact in five minutes,” Genna replied, taking her cue from the Captain, speaking in a calm voice.
Regardless of the demeanors on display, the subsequent five minutes strained nerves like dripping water on metal. All eyes on the SHD, except Genna, who monitored tactical displays, and Kebede keeping watch over everything else.
Genna confirmed a torpedo hit as a flare of white light showed on the video screen. This quickly followed by another . . . another . . . another . . . and nothing else.
“Four hits,” Genna confirmed. “One through, and four minutes from impact. It’s almost on top of us.”
“Storm,” Coop said. “Ready?”
“Coop,” Storm answered. “Elie is in front of the last projectile. Mags is about to fire everything she has. Oh, she said, ‘you might want to move your ass ‘cause it’s ‘bout to get hot in your neighborhood’. Storm, out.”
“Mr. Johnson, please take us straight down as quickly as you can,” Coop ordered.
Even with gravitational controls and a closed environment, Johnson’s swift reaction to the order, and their high rate of speed meant everyone would have hit the ceiling if not for battle harness.
The external cameras could not adjust focus at the speed of the descent, leaving Genna to inform the bridge of the last projectile’s destruction. Kebede confirmed the readings.
“We have Demon,” Sky said, and placed Loba on speaker.
“Storm says the twelve remaining Primary are making a beeline to the wormhole gate. The five non-designated ships disengaged from one another, and are also headed for the gate. Are we going to re-engage?”
“Stand down, Loba,” Cooper replied. “You’ve taken a pretty good beating, and we depleted torpedoes bringing down the plasma rounds. They now know this system possesses major defensive weapons. They witnessed their battlecruisers wiped out in one salvo, and a lot of their group taken down by two of us. I don’t think they are coming back anytime soon.”
“Roger,” Loba said. “Are we coming aboard?”
“Take Demon to the northern space platform. They will have equipment and personnel to handle repairs you might require. If I remember correctly, they also have a nice mess, and a bar. The three of you take R&R, and we’ll join you. Loba, Magpie, and Storm, damn nice shooting. SFPT-109, out.”
Then to Sky, he requested, “Please contact General Postatoon.”
“He’s already on coms, waiting,” Sky replied.
“General Postatoon, it appears your brand new weapons work rather well,” Coop said.
“They do indeed, Captain. Your chief engineer, Dr. Hernandez, came up with the idea of embedding plasma burst in the tachyon beams. We were skeptical, but it worked nicely. Would you agree?” the General asked, with obvious pride.
“Four Mischene-designed battlecruisers completely destroyed in under five minutes. I would call that a successful test.” Coop agreed.
“Captain, my apologize. When the Zenge fired those plasma rounds, we may have panicked, a bit. A tachyon burst nearly singed your ship when you came out of space-fold. We did not realize you would intervene so quickly,” explained the General.
After a short hesitation, he added: “Could you request Col. Gregory and Captain Shah stand down? I’m afraid they took command of the space platforms, by force, to prevent my people from continuing to fire randomly into space. They held more confidence in you than we did.”
“They took the platforms?” Coop said, choking back a laugh.
“Yes, Col. Gregory destroyed the tactical firing control computer on board the northern platform. Captain Shah acted more civilly, and simply unplugged the power coupling to the weapons system on the southern platform. Regardless, acts taken in the heat of battle. They continue to hold my command crews at gunpoint. If you would inform them no actions will be taken against them, I would appreciate it.”
“Sky, contact Gregory and Shah.”
“Waiting,” Sky replied, and switched their coms
channels to overhead speakers.
“Col. Gregory, Captain Shah, this is Captain Cooper. I appreciate your actions to save our butts from friendly fire. Rys’ command realizes you acted in everyone’s best interest. You may stand down. No further action is needed. Rys military personnel will remain calm,” Coop informed his two ground (platform) commanders.
“Gregory. Aye, Captain. I’ll go meet Demon. Out" Followed by: “Shah. Aye, Captain. The station is plugged back in. Shah, out.”
CHAPTER 20
The 109 moored at the northern space platform. Cooper granted dock-leave to everyone, except a skeleton crew. Personnel could remain on board or visit the platform, but everyone ordered to stay alert and ready to report for action, in case the Zenge did something unexpected, like return.
Next, he inspected his ship, taking time to talk with everyone he met.
He exited the ship for an exterior inspection from the pier’s wrap-around enclosed dock. Luck rode with the 109. A black and grey singe scarred her starboard side, running three-quarters of the way from rear to forward hull. When they exited space-fold, and not yet running on sub-light, they had no sonic force field to protect them. They came within feet of destruction by friendly fire. Her white and blue paint scheme would sport the unwanted racing stripe until they returned to Earth.
Once assured the ship well off and in good hands, he made his way to the alien platform’s version of a saloon. The lounge design offered lots of tables, chairs built for people of varying size, and panoramic windows. Its location, near the top rear of the platform, and the studio’s ability to slowly rotate, meant everyone received a changing view of space, the moons, and the planet.
At two pushed-together tables, Gregory, Elie, Mags and Genna sat on one side with Star, Sky, and Storm on the other. Coop took a chair beside Storm, across from Genna.
“You blew up their control console,” he said to Gregory, who finished a short glass filled with the Rys’ equivalent of vodka.
“Shot it up, actually,” the Russian replied. “And you’re welcome.”
“Shah simply unplugged the one on the other platform,” Cooper replied, getting the attention of a tall, shaggy waiter.
“Shah is a much more patient officer,” Gregory responded. “I, on the other hand, am more direct.”
While Coop waited on his Rys’ beer, he spoke to Elie and Mags. “Demon was great. The three of you (giving a playful shoulder bump to Storm) deserve medals for what you did out there.”
“Thanks to Storm, we didn’t get our ship crispy,” Mags said. “When long-range scans indicated the planet and the moons were tossing tachyon rounds into space like confetti, she had Elie stay in space-fold an extra minute. The added time took us past the planet. We circled back, above and around the bursts.”
“I, on the other hand, am more direct, and not as patient,” Coop said, mimicking Gregory. “And will avoid making the same mistake twice,” he added.
“Nor I,” Gregory said, then lifted his glass. “A toast to pulling the plug.”
They toasted pulling the plug, Coop raising his newly arrived glass of beer.
“I know where this is headed,” Genna said, pushing away from the table and standing. “The last time I was around a bunch of you, it ended with me throwing up and sick for days. I’m going back to the ship. You guys have fun." Everyone toasted Genna going back to the ship.
It was Elie who brought them on point. “Seriously,” she said. “What now?”
Coop set his drink on the table before answering. “We negotiate with the authorities on Rys for crystals. With or without an alliance, with or without a deal, we will transport crystals back with us." His tone sobered the group. Everyone realized he intended to use force to get more crystals, if necessary. Now equipped with tachyon cannons of incredible power and range, forcing the issue with the Lisza Kaugh could prove much more difficult.
“And we’re going to make a covert inspection of Fell,” he said, surprising everyone, especially the Fellen.
Cutting off questions or comments, he continued, “We need the crystals to complete more ships, and nearly as important, to power additional tachyon weapons. We saw how they protected Rys. We need to do the same thing on Earth. It would also help if we can improve our tech. Everyone has seen how advanced the Fellen are with communications hardware, and systems improvements. My understanding is they have more of both in their labs on Fell.”
“True,” Star added. “Our brother is the lead engineer at a hidden lab. They will have locked down and fortified against incursion. I’m sure they, and others, remain free from the Zenge.”
“I hope,” Coop replied. His beer sat, forgotten. “We also need more intel on the Zenge. We have battle assessments, but everything is based on confrontations in space. We need to see how they operate on the surface.
“We now know the Zenge possess plasma-based weapons,” Coop said. “If they use their mini-mothers on Fell, the way they targeted Rys, they could blow those fortifications open, or completely destroy them. We need to slip in, and recon the Zenge invasion force on Fell. If we can make contact with any of the labs, and secure any advanced technology, that would be a bonus.”
“Mini-mothers?” Elie asked, though others appeared equally curious.
Sky answered for the Captain. “The undesignated Zenge ships look like miniature versions of the mothership that attacked the Star Gazer in Earth’s solar system. The Captain decided to designate them mini-mothers.”
“Speaking of mothers, I understand what mother fucker means,” Storm said, looking at Mags, “but what is yippee-kai-ya?”
After a toast to yippee-kai-ya, mother-fucker, the meeting broke up.
Coop continued to be impressed by the adaptability humans displayed. He observed human members of his crew intermingle with towering, hair-covered Lisza Kaugh. They dealt comfortably with alien crew mates and passengers. If only his race had been as accepting of each other in the previous 100,000 years. His people appeared to accept a galaxy filled with lifeforms holding an array of beliefs and traditions best described as, well, alien. The evolving timeline for his planet had leapt forward in an exceptionally short amount of time. He hoped mankind continued to accept, and adapted to the rapid changes.
He also recognized conflicts, thus far, had been much too easily won. The battle for the Star Gazer, and now the action above Rys, left the enemy badly wounded. Meanwhile, they escaped with minor scratches. That would not last. The Zenge would improve their battle strategies at some point. They used incredible weapons, and sailed capable ships. Surprise had been Coop’s most potent weapon do date. Now he must make damn sure his people did not become overconfident.
They were good. They had also been lucky. He wanted the good to remain, and wanted luck to sit the next few hands out.
CHAPTER 21
“No way in hell I stay behind.” Mary Margaret Moore made her position clear regarding not joining the mission to recon Fell. Not because it promised danger, or offered the chance to visit yet another alien world. Nope, she refused to relinquish her co-pilot’s seat because Elie, and Storm, and Sky were going.
“You’re sleeping with two of them, and the third is your ex-live-in. The four of you are forced together in tight quarters for at least a few days. There is no way I’m missing the show,” Mags told him.
“That puts five of us in cramped quarters,” Coop said, attempting reason.
Elie in a chair, Sky beside Storm on the sofa, and Sky’s sister, Star sitting on another chair, made no effort to intervene, preferring to watch Coop and Mags settle this one by themselves.
Mags stood in front of Coop’s desk, arms folded. “I’ll sleep in my seat,” Mags said. “A chance like this only comes around once in a girl’s lifetime.”
The Captain tried a disparate tack. “Mags, this will be a seriously dangerous mission. This isn’t a weekend romp in space. We need to get into the system unnoticed, sneak across open space, drop through an atmosphere, unseen, and contact Sky a
nd Star’s brother in the northern Crown Mountains. Covertly.”
“I’m sneaky and covert,” Mags said. “There are four of you, and three bunks. That could result in more romping than you expect.”
“Someone will always occupy the pilot’s seat. There is no reason for concern about sleeping arrangements,” Coop said, exasperated.
“Who’s interested in watching people sleep?” she asked. “I want to be there for the awake time. Think of me as the adult chaperone. We don’t want everybody else in this part of the galaxy thinking this is an excuse for you to grab alone time with your three best girls.”
“Instead of three, they’ll see me flying off with four women,” Cooper replied. “How does that look any better?”
“Well, at least you admit it doesn’t look good,” Mags said with a grin. “Give it up, Captain. I’m along on this trip.”
Accepting defeat, Cooper said, “Okay, Mags, you’re the co-pilot. But I do not expect to hear a single word about you acting as a chaperone, before, during, or after this mission.”
Smug from winning, Mags dropped into a lotus position on the floor in front of Elie.
“If we can get back on mission,” Coop said, returning to the subject at hand. “The Fell system is a little more than a parsec from Rys. While it would take weeks by wormhole channels to get there, with space-fold we can do it in a day. A couple of days in the system to accomplish whatever we can, add another day to get clear, and two days back. We are gone five days minimum. Perhaps seven, depending on what we discover.”
“Is this a good time for you to leave?” Elie asked. “We’re beginning the negotiations with King Saharri for the crystals. Maybe Anton is a better choice for the Fell job.”
“I thought about sending Anton,” Coop admitted. “He could handle the ground mission, and I trust you to get from the outer rim to the planet unseen, but we need eyes on the Zenge with more history dealing with them. The four . . . five of us represent the people with the most experience with Zenge hardware, software, and tactics. Elie, you and I are special ops. Sky and Storm know the layout. Mags is Mags.” Before she could object, he added, ”Able to work her way out of any bad situation.” She resettled, content with the compliment.