The Star Cross

by Raymond L. Weil

  The TV switched to a message stating that normal programming would resume at 6:00 a.m.

  “I guess that’s all they’re going to say,” Alex said, leaning back on the sofa, deep in thought.

  “So you think the aliens will come back?” asked Denise, putting her arm around Bryan and pulling him close.

  “Let me go!” Bryan said, squirming away. “I want to go play.”

  “Go play in your room,” suggested Denise, allowing their son to get up. “I’ll check on you shortly.”

  “Then can we watch the horse movie?” asked Bryan, his eyes lighting up.

  “Yes,” Denise answered with a patient smile. “After supper we’ll all come in here and watch the horses.”

  -

  In a secret underground bunker deep beneath a mountain in southern Canada, President Mayfield looked around at his Cabinet. Not all the members had made it out of Washington, DC.

  Mayfield had barely won the last election in a heated battle against his opponent. There had been a lot of mud-slinging, and it had left a bad taste within the political scene. Several new campaign laws had been passed to ensure that such activity didn’t occur again. Mayfield sincerely hoped there would be future elections. It would indicate this threat from the Profiteers had been eliminated.

  Since the USA, Canada, and Mexico had eliminated their borders and established the North American Union, no elected president had faced a threat such as the one Mayfield faced today. Some important decisions needed to be made, and some of them would be very difficult. He knew what they were about to do would probably anger several of his Cabinet members.

  “What’s the status of Admiral Vickers’s fleet?” asked Mayfield, looking expectantly toward Fleet Admiral Tomalson.

  “He has his battlecruiser, a light carrier, four light cruisers, and now five destroyers. One destroyer was lost in the brief battle fought in Earth orbit,” replied Fleet Admiral Tomalson, glancing down at a sheet of paper on the conference table before him.

  Tomalson was an older man, graying around the temples, verging on retirement, when he had been offered the esteemed Cabinet post.

  “There are also a few destroyers based at Newton which he didn’t bring.”

  “Can he keep these Profiteers from attacking Earth again?” asked Secretary of State Anne Roselin.

  She had barely escaped Washington before the first nuke fell.

  Fleet Admiral Tomalson let out a deep breath and looked around the small group of men and women. “No,” he said with a deep sigh. “He caught them by surprise, and the new particle beam cannons were quite effective. His task force got several kills before the Profiteers could fully raise their shields. The admiral and I have a strong suspicion they’ll be back and with a much larger fleet. When they do, Admiral Vickers will not be able to keep them from attacking Earth.”

  “But it’s his job,” grunted out Secretary of Labor Marlen Stroud. “That’s why we allocated the funds to build the fleet.”

  A lot of heated arguments had occurred between Cabinet members about spending so much for a fleet of warships that might never be needed. Finally several other countries, including the European Union, had agreed to help foot the bill. Several ships with European personnel on board had been a part of the two fleets destroyed in Earth orbit.

  “If we order him to stay and defend the planet, he will,” replied Fleet Admiral Tomalson. “But to do so will be the end of his fleet and of any hope to free our planet in the future.”

  The room was silent, as everyone digested what Tomalson had just said. No one liked the implications.

  “Then what do we do?” asked General Braid, the secretary of defense. “If we order our ground military units to fight, the Profiteers will just bomb them from orbit. The few units that tried to resist the original attack were annihilated by missile strikes. The same goes for any jet fighters we launch.”

  “We send Admiral Vickers back to Newton with as many people as we can possibly evacuate,” answered Tomalson, leaning forward, his voice sounding determined. “We relocate off planet as many scientists, technicians, scholars, teachers, physicians, and whoever else we determine might be useful in the war effort. Perhaps, if given the necessary time to build a bigger fleet and more particle beam cannons, the admiral’s fleet can return and drive the Profiteers from Earth permanently.”

  “What!” uttered Stroud, standing up and waving his fist at the fleet admiral. “We can’t allow them to leave Earth orbit. They have to fight. It’s their duty!”

  “Then they will die, and where does that leave us?” asked Tomalson, his eyes narrowing sharply. “With no fleet, we will be powerless against these Profiteers.”

  “I agree with the fleet admiral,” commented General Braid after a moment. “I understand the military situation, and now isn’t the time to fight. We can’t ask Admiral Vickers to sacrifice his fleet in a hopeless battle that leaves us defenseless before the aliens. Vickers’s fleet is a valuable asset and must be preserved.”

  “But the Profiteers might not return,” protested Stroud, looking around at the others for support. “Just having our fleet in orbit might be enough to keep them away.”

  “We managed to intercept a lot of their communications, while they were in Earth orbit,” Secretary of Homeland Security Raul Gutierrez said. “They were boasting to each other about all the credits they would make from looting our world. They will be back, and they’ll bring others with them. We’re too big a prize for them to give up on.”

  “What else do we know about these Profiteers?” asked Mayfield, looking intently at the secretary of homeland security. The president had been briefed by Raul already, but he wanted the entire Cabinet to hear what the man had to say.

  “They come from what they call the Gothan Empire,” responded Raul, taking a deep breath. “We determined from the communication intercepts that it’s a loose federation of nearly 120 star systems that routinely raid many of the civilized races of the galaxy.”

  “One hundred and twenty star systems,” uttered Anne Roselin, shaking her head in amazement. “Just a few weeks ago we were wondering if we were alone in the galaxy.”

  “That question’s been answered,” commented Mayfield dryly. “What else do we know about them, Raul?”

  “They do only a limited amount of raiding against the more civilized worlds,” continued Raul. “They don’t want to encourage any reprisals from the more powerful star systems. However, they are constantly seeking out new worlds in what they consider unexplored space. We just happened to be the latest one they found.”

  “What do they want?” asked Secretary of Energy Max Sallow.

  “Rare minerals, jewels, platinum, art, and, strangely enough, gold,” Raul replied.

  “Gold!” echoed Secretary of the Treasury Dwight Michaels. “Why gold? The platinum they are asking for is more valuable, and our Moon is overflowing with it. Plus other lesser-known minerals are even more valuable, like black opals from Australia, red diamonds from Brazil, the bixbite from Utah.”

  “As hard as it is to believe, the galaxy at large uses a form of money called credits, and it’s based on the value of gold,” Raul said, his dark eyes focusing on Dwight.

  “Reports confirm several thousand people being abducted and taken to some of the ships, which left immediately after the original attack,” Mayfield said, looking at Raul with raised eyebrows. “Any idea as to why they took those people?” He had tried to downplay those rumors in his broadcast so as not to alarm the civilian population.

  “Yes,” Raul answered, not looking too happy about what he was getting ready to say. “Evidently there is a market for slaves on many of the worlds in the galaxy, including some of the more civilized ones. The slaves are used for simple household jobs and others for more dangerous work. It’s a very lucrative market.”

  “Slaves!” retorted Stroud with a deep frown. “Are you certain of that?”

  “Yes,” Raul replied with a slight nod of his head. “In one of
the star systems of the Gothan Empire is a planet called Kubitz, where the slaves are sold. The planet also operates a huge black market. Supposedly nearly anything you can imagine is for sale on this world.”

  A moment of silence prevailed. President Mayfield studied his trusted group of advisors. He knew that several of them would like to see Admiral Vickers’s fleet stay in orbit and defend the planet. However, to do so might doom Earth to be plundered for generations by these Profiteers. Mayfield couldn’t allow this, not if there was another option. This was one of those difficult decisions that had to be made and would be highly unpopular, even with some of his Cabinet.

  “We need to look at what sites we can make secure from enemy detection,” he announced. “We need to have elite military units ready to attack targets of opportunity once the Profiteers return.”

  “You’re sending away the fleet,” croaked Marlen Stroud, his face turning livid. “You can’t do that! I can’t believe you would leave our planet defenseless.”

  “We have no choice,” Mayfield answered in a firm voice. “That fleet’s the only hope we have for a future.”

  “Our remaining fleet has to be preserved,” Tomalson said with General Braid nodding his head in agreement.

  Stroud leaned back in his chair with his shoulders drooping. He looked at the president, then sighed heavily. When his gaze fell on Fleet Admiral Tomalson and General Braid, he just shrugged.

  “Fleet Admiral Tomalson, make immediate arrangements to get key people off Earth,” ordered President Mayfield. “Get me a report as soon as possible of everything Admiral Vickers might need to make his job easier. Now let’s discuss what other measures to take before these Profiteers return.”

  “Newton only has eight million people,” muttered Stroud, shaking his head. “What can eight million people do against a star empire?”

  “Give us hope,” Mayfield answered without hesitation. “They can give our entire world hope for a future.”

  Stroud slowly shook his head in dismay.

  -

  Denise had just put Bryan to bed and returned to the kitchen to prepare coffee for her and Alex. Something about the smell of hot coffee helped her to relax.

  “Is he asleep?” asked Alex, walking up behind Denise and putting his arms around her. They had been married for eight years, and it had been the best time of his life.

  “Finally,” Denise said, wriggling from Alex’s arms so she could pour both of them a cup of coffee. “He’s so excited about the possibility of Kurt coming to see him.”

  “Your brother might not be able to,” replied Alex, reaching for his cup and taking a cautious sip. “Maybe he can’t leave his ship with the crisis we’re currently in.”

  “I know.” Denise sighed, holding her cup with both hands, allowing it to cool. “This entire situation with these aliens scares me. I don’t know what we’ll do if they come back.”

  “Claude said some people were taken in a suburb on the eastern side of the city,” Alex informed her. “He claims a handful of small ships came down, and the aliens rounded up several hundred people, taking those people with them.”

  “I’m sure that’s just a rumor. Why would they be here in Houston?” Denise replied with a slight shiver. “Why would they want any of our people? The president said it was just a rumor.”

  “Supposedly a lot of people in this suburb work at the space complex. They took men, women, and even children. I also don’t think the president’s telling us everything. The rumor about the aliens abducting people really worries me.”

  Before Denise could say anything else, her cell rang. Phone service had been erratic the past few weeks since the alien attack, and she looked at her phone in surprise. She reached over to the counter and picked it up.

  “Hello?” she said hesitantly. Then her face brightened as she recognized the voice. “It’s Kurt!” She listened for nearly a minute without saying anything, her face taking on a very intense look. “Are you sure? When? What can we take? Just a minute, let me tell Alex.” She looked over at Alex with a concerned and troubled expression on her face.

  “Kurt says we need to evacuate.”

  “Evacuate!” uttered Alex, looking confused. “Where to?”

  “Newton,” replied Denise in a soft voice. “He says the aliens will be back, and, when they come, his fleet will probably have to withdraw. He’s in the process of making arrangements to evacuate the families of the crews in his fleet as well as some others.”

  Alex looked stunned as he considered this. “How soon?”

  “In the next day or two.”

  It didn’t take Alex long to decide. “Tell him we’ll be ready.”

  If Kurt didn’t feel they would be safe on Earth, then it implied that things were a lot worse than they had been led to believe. It also sounded as if Kurt felt the aliens would be in control of the planet for quite some time once they returned.

  Denise spent another few minutes speaking to Kurt and then turned off her phone, laying it on the kitchen counter. “We can take some clothes and a few other essentials,” she told Alex. “He says to pack light, as we can get what we’ll need at Newton.”

  Alex let out a deep breath. He looked around the kitchen. “What will happen to all we’re leaving behind? Yeah, our house is modest, but it’s nearly paid for. And our jobs. Good, well-paying jobs. But you and Bryan, your safety concerns me the most. … And we should stay together as a family.”

  He stroked Denise’s hair. “We’ll tell Bryan that we’re going on vacation,” Alex said, pursing his lips. “I suspect he’ll be excited at the idea of traveling in space and flying to another planet.”

  “What about your parents?”

  Alex looked at Denise and then spoke. “Mom and Dad have a cabin up in the mountains. I’ll call them and suggest they go there. It’s in a pretty isolated area, so they should be safe. They’re friends with several neighbors up there, so they won’t be completely alone.”

  Denise looked over at one of the kitchen walls covered with family photos. “It will be hard to leave so many memories behind, but I’ll pack in the morning. Kurt said he would send a shuttle to pick us up the day after tomorrow.”

  She wondered what pictures she should take and what life would be like on the new world. When she woke up this morning, going into space never entered her mind; now they were preparing to leave everything behind and go to Newton. She just hoped they were making the right decision. However, she trusted her brother, and, if he said they needed to leave, then that was what they would do.

  Chapter Three

  Admiral Kurt Vickers stood in Earth’s shipyard next to Fleet Admiral Tomalson. In the main construction bay, the new 1,200-meter-long heavy battlecarrier Kepler was covered with framework. Flashes from numerous welders constantly lit up the bay, as frantic workers attempted to finish welding the last few plates of hull armor on the massive ship. Every available worker was inside and outside this one vessel, bringing online as many systems as possible. The main cargo hatches stood open with a constant flow of material and supplies passing through. Officers and construction supervisors could be heard shouting orders and instructions to the hundreds of people in the bay.

  “Is she flight-ready?” asked Kurt, turning to the older fleet admiral. The Kepler by herself could almost double the firepower of his fleet.

  “She will be in seventy-two hours,” Tomalson answered with a nod. “We’re fortunate that the shipyard crew was left unharmed. From what Colonel Hayworth told me, the Profiteers were interested in having the Kepler completed for their own use. In the two weeks the aliens were here, they kept a small security force on the shipyard and kept the crew working on that ship.”

  “What happened to that security force?” asked Kurt, wondering if some of them had been captured. They could be a treasure trove of valuable information.

  “There were twenty of them altogether,” Tomalson replied, his eyes narrowing sharply. “Twelve of them were killed when the station crew reali
zed your fleet had returned and was attacking the Profiteer ships. The other eight, while banged up pretty good, are in the brig, awaiting questioning.”

  “What about the Kepler?”

  “She’s going with you when you leave,” the fleet admiral answered. “Still needs a lot of inside cosmetic work, but most of her weapons, the sublight drive, and the hyperdrive are operational. We’ll fill the cargo holds and her two flight bays with most of what’s needed to finish her. In addition, we’re loading two large cargo ships with missiles and other munitions your fleet might need.”

  “What about her energy shield?” Kurt asked. Even from here, he could see a lot of the small antennae like emitters that powered the shield were missing.

  “Not operational,” Tomalson admitted with a grimace. “Take the Kepler back to Newton. The station there can finish the ship. Most of the shipyard’s crew will be transferring to Newton as well to give you a trained force of ship-construction people. We’re also in the process of bringing the rest of the Kepler’s crew up from Earth. Only about half of them have been trained and have any actual space experience.”

  “Newbies,” grumbled Kurt with a sigh. They would have to learn quickly if they were to fight a war.

  “There are also two light cruisers in the other bays,” Tomalson continued. “The Dallas and the Birmingham were being updated with new sensors and particle cannons when the attack commenced. The majority of their crews were on leave, and we’re in the process of recalling them. Colonel Hayworth feels he can have both cruisers ready in four more days.”

  “The Kepler and the two light cruisers will greatly enhance the fleet,” Kurt said, looking over at the older admiral. “What about the bombers and the fighters?”

  “Done,” responded Tomalson, with a half-hearted smile. “Only problem is that most of them are still in their assembly crates, and the pilots need a lot of training.”