Cosmic Thunder (Sentinels Saga Book 3)

by Linn Schwab

  Socrates responded, “The main body of the message appears to be an image, accompanied by navigational instructions. I’m displaying it on my primary monitor right now.”

  The technicians shifted their eyes toward the monitor, and both of them immediately leapt out of their chairs. The image depicted an enormous space craft, in orbit above an unfamiliar, Earth–‌like planet. “Oh my god!” Conner exclaimed. “Socrates, is that image authentic?”

  “I have no reason to doubt its authenticity. The message originated from one of our own space probes.”

  Conner turned to his colleague and said, “Tyson, do you realize what this could mean?”

  “The conference call!” Tyson yelled. “We have to stop it!” He rushed to his desk, grabbed the phone’s handset, and immediately dialed the chairman’s secretary. “Lizzie, this is Tyson in corporate records! Get chairman Ross on the line with me, now!”

  “What, are you crazy?” Lizzie replied. “The conference call is scheduled to begin in two minutes.”

  “Do not let him take that call, Lizzie! I need to speak with him right away!”

  “I’m sorry, Tyson, but you’re too late. You’re just gonna have to wait until the conference call is over.”

  Tyson let the handset slip through his fingers. Before it even hit the floor, he was rushing full speed toward the nearest stairwell, with Conner chasing after him, right on his heels.

  * * * *

  With one minute remaining until the start of the meeting, Chairman Ross stepped into the conference room and greeted the members of his executive team — a collection of fourteen seasoned managers, seated around an oval mahogany table. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he glumly announced, “let’s get this unpleasant task over with, shall we.”

  Before the chairman had a chance to sit down, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside. He heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching, and the conference room door burst open seconds later.

  “Wait, Mr. Chairman!” Tyson yelled. “Before you sign the company away, there’s something you really need to see!”

  The chairman laughed and shook his head in bemusement. “Barging into an executive meeting uninvited? You two must really feel you have nothing left to lose.”

  “This is important, Mr. Chairman,” Conner insisted. “It could be the most significant achievement in history!”

  The chairman cast a glare of skepticism at them. “Significant enough to prevent this takeover, I presume?”

  “YES!” the two technicians confirmed in unison.

  Conner stepped inside the room and called the image from the message up on a display screen. “This image just arrived from one of our space probes,” he said. “Take a good look at this, Mr. Chairman.”

  Chairman Ross appeared to be intrigued by the image. “Just exactly what are we looking at?” he asked.

  “That, Mr. Chairman,” Tyson explained, “is the ESS David Livingstone.”

  The board members let out a collective gasp, and strained their eyes to get a better look at the image. Everyone on Earth was familiar with the story of how the Livingstone and its unauthorized crew had set out to discover another habitable world. The implications of this new revelation were staggering. The planet on display at the center of this image was clearly capable of supporting life, as evidenced by the lush green color of its continents.

  “Members of the board,” the chairman announced, “it appears we have something of great significance to consider. All in favor of postponing this meeting with Voorling?” The vote to delay the conference call was unanimous. “Mr. Dinsing,” the chairman said to Tyson, “can you tell us anything more about this image?”

  “It literally just came in,” Tyson said. “We’ll need a little time to look into the details.”

  “Very well,” the chairman agreed, “I’ll give you twenty–‌four hours to learn what you can. We’ll reconvene here at one o’clock tomorrow for a discussion of how this might benefit the company.”

  * * * *

  Chairman Ross waited until late afternoon before heading to the corporate records department. Accompanying him was Phillip Rydell — Senior Vice President and Chief Financial Officer. The two of them entered the room unannounced and approached the technicians in a casual manner. “Mr. Dinsing,” the chairman addressed Tyson, “the suspense is absolutely killing us. Can you give us at least some idea of what you’ve managed to learn so far?”

  “Well,” Tyson explained, after clearing his throat, “the details of how this all came about are still somewhat sketchy right at the moment. Remember, we’re talking about something that happened almost three hundred years ago. Sorting through the records of that time period is proving to be a bit of a challenge for us. Anyway, it appears that when the Livingstone departed from Earth, our CEO at the time — a Mr. Collin Bruce — dispatched one of our space probes to keep track of its progress, and report back periodically on its current whereabouts. What happened between then and now remains a mystery, but at some point the probe was apparently presumed to have been lost. All contact with it simply ceased. But one thing we have been able to determine is that the message we received this afternoon took more than a hundred years to reach us.”

  “A hundred years?” the Vice President repeated. “Why so long?”

  “That planet is a considerable distance from Earth. The Livingstone was equipped with interstellar drive, so it could cover that distance in a relatively short amount of time. But transmissions can only travel at the speed of light, and that’s just how long it takes for them to get here from there.”

  “What about the planet itself?” the chairman asked. “Can you tell us anything at all about it?”

  “We forwarded this message to our space exploration division, and they were able to pinpoint the planet’s location for us. They say it definitely appears to be an Earth–‌type planet, and that there’s every indication in the picture provided that life is thriving on its surface. Or at least it was when the picture was taken.”

  “Good work, Mr. Dinsing,” the chairman said. “I’m looking forward to your presentation tomorrow. Phil,” he said to the Senior Vice President, “I’d like to have a word with you in private, if I may.” The two men stepped out of the room together and headed upstairs to the chairman’s office.”

  “So, what do you think?” the chairman asked. “Is there any way we can leverage that planet to our advantage?”

  “It’s certainly a possibility. Obviously, Chairman Bruce must have thought so, or he wouldn’t have sent a probe to chase after the Livingstone. Question is, how are we gonna take possession of it. Like Dinsing said, it’s a very long way from here.”

  “We’re gonna have to send someone out there, I presume. Otherwise, just laying claim to it does us no real good.”

  Rydell laughed. “And just how are we going to accomplish that? Need I remind you, this company is on the verge of collapse right now. We don’t have the necessary funds to build a rowboat, let alone an interstellar spaceship capable of making such a journey.”

  Chairman Ross rubbed his chin as he searched for a workable solution to the problem. “Then we’ll have to get someone else to build it for us.”

  “Who?” Rydell argued. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of bringing in Voorling? If we go to them, we’re no better off than before. Either way, they’ll end up with all of our assets. This new discovery will only make the deal sweeter for them.”

  “Actually,” the chairman explained, “I was thinking more along the lines of seeking assistance from outside the business community.”

  “From who? The government? You can’t be serious! There’s no way in hell they’ll agree to such a thing, just so we can add that planet to our balance sheet.”

  “They don’t have to know our true intentions, Phil. We’ll … tell them we suspect there may be a threat that might justify preemptive intervention on our part. Remember, they don’t have access to our information. They have no idea what’s going on out th
ere. We just need to come up with a convincing cover story. Then, if they agree to send an expeditionary force, we’ll insist on sending a skilled negotiator to broker a satisfactory resolution.”

  Rydell shook his head in indecision. “I don’t know about this, Keith. This whole thing could easily spiral out of control. Those people — if there are any people on that planet — probably won’t be very happy when a warship suddenly shows up in orbit, and unleashes our corporate attorneys on them.”

  The chairman looked at him insistently. “It won’t spiral out of control, though, because you and I are not going to let that happen. If it looks as if shots are going to be fired over this, we’ll pull the plug and relinquish our claim to the planet. We’ll do whatever it takes to defuse the situation, even it means we have to give the company to Voorling. Agreed?”

  Rydell lowered himself into a chair and carefully considered the chairman’s proposal, weighing the risk of potential loss of life against the prospect of watching the company collapse, and the majority of its employees lose their livelihoods. “Alright,” he relented after a moment. “I’ll go along with this, Keith. As long as we’re both in agreement that there won’t be any shooting involved.”

  “No shooting,” the chairman promised. “Believe me, Phil, I don’t want bloodshed on my conscience any more than you do. I’ll make a few quick calls to my personal contacts, and request an emergency session with the senate.”

  COMPASSION 075

  >>

  The chaos was hours behind them now, when the alarms had sounded on Paradise One, and a scramble to evacuate the station had ensued. If not for the presence of the freighter Gojira, all of them would still be stranded there — the children, their mothers, the officers and Peter. They’d be sitting there, helpless to do anything, and their fates would still be hanging in the balance, at the whims of some distant enemy commander. As it was, they were fortunate to still be alive — a fact Peter was still trying to wrap his head around. Why had that enemy ship spared their lives? A few shots was all it would have taken to destroy them.

  In a chamber somewhere deep inside the Gojira, the children were exploring their new surroundings as the others watched them, quiet and reflective. Peter sat with his back against a shipping container, going over all the likely explanations in his mind as Karen chatted with the freighter’s captain nearby. It wasn’t clear if she was giving the captain instructions, or just asking for an update on the current situation. But a question suddenly gelled in Peter’s thoughts, and he was quick to barge in on their conversation.

  “Excuse me, Karen ... Captain Nakamura,” Peter said. He stood next to Karen and addressed the ship’s captain. “I was wondering if you might grant us access to the bridge. Or at least to a communications terminal.”

  The captain politely nodded his head. “Of course. May I ask what it is you intend to do?”

  Peter gave Karen a tentative glance, not knowing how she might react to his suggestion. “I’d like to link up with Paradise One’s control system, and try to access the surveillance camera footage.”

  Karen reacted with a stern look of disapproval, just as Peter suspected she might.

  “Look,” he said, trying to win her over, “I know you don’t like any communications in the area, but the station’s position is already compromised. I’d like to know what that enemy ship’s captain was thinking, and it might help if I could see what happened out there.”

  He could see the gears turning over in her mind as she weighed the possibility of further risk to the station. “Alright,” she relented after a moment. “Captain Nakamura, will you show us to the bridge?”

  “Right this way,” the captain replied.

  As the captain led them out of the room, Commander Parks called out to one of her controllers. “Megan!” she yelled, waving the girl closer. “You’re with us!”

  The four of them piled into an elevator, and after ascending several decks, they stepped through a corridor and onto the bridge.

  Peter was surprised by how small it was, compared to the bridge of a fighter carrier. The layout appeared roughly similar though, and it still had the wrap–‌around bank of windows that seemed ubiquitous to control operations. The most striking difference, as far as he could tell, was that the crew here numbered only half a dozen. Far less than one would normally see on a warship.

  Captain Nakamura headed straight for the communications console, and placed his hands on the operator’s shoulders. “Hiroshi, we’re gonna need your panel for a moment.” He motioned for the controller to step aside.

  Hiroshi pulled his headset off, then stood up and offered his seat to Megan.

  “What’s the plan?” Megan asked her commander as she slid herself into the seat at the console.

  Peter and Karen stepped in close behind her. “We’re looking for surveillance footage of the ship that approached our station,” Karen said. “I want you to see if you can access the camera recordings, and pipe them through to the Gojira’s monitors.”

  Megan looked over her shoulder at Karen. “You really think the station’s still in one piece, Commander?”

  Captain Nakamura interrupted. “My crew has been watching that area closely. There hasn’t been any activity there since we left.”

  Commander Parks gave a nod of acknowledgement to Megan. “Go ahead and try to establish a link.”

  “Alright,” Megan said as she turned to face the console. Her fingers raced across the keyboard for a moment. “Link established,” she reported. “The station is responding. Data is accessible. Camera footage coming up on monitors ... now.”

  Karen scrutinized the console’s bank of monitors. “Play back the previous twelve hours,” she said. “Scan for motion–‌based anomalies, and display all occurrences at normal speed.”

  A few scattered taps on the keyboard followed, then an image appeared on one of the screens.

  “There!” Peter said, pointing a finger at the image. “See if you can magnify that.”

  After Megan zoomed in on the image, Karen leaned closer to get a better look. “What is that?” she said. “Is it a warship?”

  “It sure is,” Peter said. “An enemy destroyer.” He ran his finger along the surface of the screen, pointing out the open torpedo tube doors. “And it’s ready to blast the hell out of us.”

  “But nothing happened,” Karen said. “I don’t understand.” She checked the time on the camera footage. “This was more than eight hours ago. Why haven’t they attacked us yet?”

  As the image progressed, the ship drew closer to the station and appeared to position itself for an attack. But just when Peter determined it was close enough to fire, it abruptly swung around to its left, and beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction.

  “Did something scare it off?” Karen asked.

  Peter shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t think so. They’re usually much more tenacious than that.”

  “Something went wrong, then? A malfunction on their ship?”

  “Possibly,” Peter said, “but I—”

  A swell of intense light suddenly swept in through the windows, forcing everyone on the bridge to shield their eyes. In the seconds that followed came seven more flashes, spaced evenly at intervals of several seconds.

  “Those were nuclear warheads,” Captain Nakamura said when it was over.

  “Yes,” Peter said, “aimed at Paradise One. That’s just what I was about to suggest. They must’ve decided it was more advantageous to them to pull back and have missiles fired at us from a distance.”

  Karen drew a deep breath and let out a sigh of disappointment. “Well, so much for Paradise One. I guess we’ll have to tell the fleet to cut back on rations.”

  Megan immediately shook her head. “No, look!” she said, pointing her finger at the screen. “The video feed from the station is still active!”

  Peter stared at the monitor, surprised and bewildered. Megan was right. The feed was still active.

  “They missed!” Kare
n said. “Their aim was off! They must’ve gotten our coordinates wrong!”

  Peter shook his head, as if in disbelief. “That doesn’t seem likely. Their actions are normally very precise.”

  Captain Nakamura turned to one of his crew. “Koji, run a trace on those explosions and get me a position!”

  “Yes, Captain.” A few seconds went by as Koji made the calculations. He then looked up and made his report. “They were off by more than six hundred kilometers. My scans show the station appears to be intact.”

  “So they did miss,” Captain Nakamura said. “And by quite a wide margin, too.”

  The explanation didn’t make sense to Peter. It’s not like them to miss, he told himself. There has to be something else going on. “Play back the footage of that ship again,” he said. “I want to take another look at it.”

  Megan sped the recording backward briefly, then allowed it to play forward again at normal speed. In the lower left corner of the screen was a brief string of text that read:

  Camera 08

  “Where is camera eight positioned?” Peter asked.

  “It’s right above the nursery, I think,” Megan said. On one of the adjacent monitors, she pulled up a schematic of Paradise One, and zoomed in on the outline of agrisphere six. “Yes, twenty meters above the hull center–‌line.”

  As soon as he saw the camera’s location, Peter was convinced he understood what must have happened. “They didn’t get our coordinates wrong,” he said. “The commander of that ship knows exactly where the station is.”

  Karen stared at him in silence, confused. “I don’t understand. If it wasn’t a mistake, then what was it?” she said. “A deliberate miss?”

  “No,” Peter said. “An act of compassion. Someone on that ship decided to spare us.”

  The look in Karen’s eyes suggested deep skepticism.

  Peter called her attention to the footage of the enemy ship. “Look here,” he said, pointing to the image again. “That ship is bearing down almost directly on the nursery. At this range, their cameras could’ve easily seen through the windows. I’m convinced they must’ve realized there were children inside, and decided not to go through with the attack.”