Sentinels: Children of Valhalla (Sentinels Saga Book 1)

by Linn Schwab

  “Okay, Robin,” Jenny prompted, “what do we sing now? You start it out, and we’ll all join in.”

  Robin closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to think of a song she liked. There were so many she could choose from, but there was one that had always been special to her. A beautiful hymn that mentioned the ocean. She opened her eyes and smiled at Jenny, then took a deep breath and sang the words, “Eternal Father, strong to save…”

  A swell of emotion swept through the room as the others joined in, adding layers of harmony. The force of passion in their singing could not be restrained, and spilled out through each of the adjoining bulkheads, ringing out strongly through the station’s corridors. In places, the resonance became strong enough that it caused the wall panels and hardware to vibrate. As the girls progressed through the song’s poignant lyrics, there came to be a sense of understanding among them that the words they had learned to sing so long ago were eerily reflective of their own situations. Being stranded out in the emptiness of space would be every bit as perilous as foundering at sea. Many of them were reminded of friends they had lost, and of the suffering they had most likely been forced to endure.

  When the song ended, there was more applause, albeit a little more subdued this time. A few seconds of solemn silence passed, then Nancy stepped forward to suggest a selection she hoped would restore the festive mood. “Tie Me Kangaroo Down!” she yelled, and a chorus of cheers quickly followed.

  Just before the singing resumed, Michelle rubbed the base of her throat and swallowed. “I’m thirsty,” she said to Sheri. “I think I’ll go get some juice or something.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Sheri offered. As the two of them stepped out of the lounge together, they found Phoebe standing alone in the corridor, staring intently at one of the metal wall panels. Alarmed by the expression of uncertainty on her face, they glanced at each other and approached her with caution.

  “Phoebe, what’s wrong?” Sheri asked her. “Did something happen?”

  Phoebe hesitated briefly, refusing to take her eyes off of the wall. “Look,” she said, expressing wonder and confusion. She ran the edge of her finger along the wall, collecting a few drops of moisture that seemed to have formed on its surface. Holding the drops up for closer inspection, she turned toward the others and softly remarked, “It looks like the walls are crying.”

  On the dimly lit bridge of the UES Mona Lisa, a trio of officers kept their eyes on the monitors as they scanned for signs of enemy activity. Outside the ship’s worn and weathered windows, fragments of wreckage drifted by — leftovers from a skirmish that had been fought long ago. Fought long ago, and lost by us, Derrick reminded himself. Just like so many other failed attempts. Weary of staring at his monitor screen, he rubbed his eyes and glanced beside him at J Mac — a lieutenant who hailed from some small community in Scotland, or “a collection of barns,” as he liked to call it. The “Mac” Derrick knew was short for Mackenzie, but the long form of “J” remained a closely guarded secret.

  “I don’t like this one bit,” J Mac said. “We are right on the edge of enemy space here. If one of their patrols spots us…”

  Looking over Lieutenant Mackenzie’s shoulder, Captain Hoile completed his statement with, “…then, we’ll have to defend ourselves, won’t we?”

  A few seconds of awkward silence followed as J Mac and Derrick stared at each other. The rest of the bridge crew remained silent as well, observing their captain with apparent unease.

  “Defend ourselves?” J Mac replied. “In this rig? You’d stand a better chance of getting out and walking back to Earth from here!”

  Derrick closed his eyes and turned away from Captain Hoile in an attempt to conceal the grimace on his face. The captain was relatively new to the war zone. That much Derrick had already been aware of. But this unexpected display of naiveté was a confidence killer in the worst sort of way.

  The captain remained silent and still for a moment as he considered the implications of J Mac’s assertion. “According to all of the accounts I’ve read,” he said, “enemy patrols this far out normally consist of single destroyer–‌class vessels. Is that not correct?” he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

  “Oh it’s correct alright,” J Mac confirmed. “And that’s enough to keep our butts well across the line!”

  “How is it,” the captain queried, “that an inferior class vessel commands such respect? It seems to me that we ought to be able to hold our own against one. Shouldn’t we?”

  J Mac frowned as he considered his response. “Look,” he said, “we aren’t even operating a full strength vessel, sir. We’re running around in a truncated light cruiser, with a giant magnet stuck on the back. ‘Combat Tug?’ What kind of sick joke is that! ‘Target Practice’ would be a better name for us!”

  Derrick swiveled his chair around and looked directly at Captain Hoile. “Even if we were in a standard light cruiser,” he said, “it would be risky for us to take on a destroyer. Those ships are aptly named, sir. Don’t let yourself be deceived by their size. They are powerful little buggers!”

  “Think of it this way,” J Mac suggested. “If you had to face off against some hypothetical adversary — say, an ancient Greek god or something — would you rather fight the guy named ‘Battleship,’ or the guy that everyone calls ‘Destroyer.’ Sometimes a name can tell you a lot, sir.”

  “So you’re saying that destroyers are more powerful than battleships? Is that what you’re implying?” the captain asked.

  “Not at all,” J Mac replied. “But just to give you a little perspective, if we opened up on a battleship with everything we’ve got, it could take us an hour just to punch a hole through its side. A destroyer could make mincemeat out of one of them in a matter of just a few minutes, sir — assuming the battleship didn’t take it out first, of course.”

  The captain seemed to be taking their words to heart. There was a genuine hint of concern in his expression that hadn’t been present a few moments earlier. Apparently he’d misjudged the degree of risk inherent in this particular assignment. “I guess if we’re attacked by one of them,” he said, “then we’d better hope our gunners can subdue it fairly quickly.”

  “Yeah,” Derrick said turning back toward his monitor, “and that is easier said than done.”

  “I don’t understand,” the captain said, following a moment of quiet contemplation. “If those ships are so formidable, then why don’t we operate them in greater numbers? I know I haven’t been out here as long as the rest of you have, but I don’t believe I’ve even laid eyes on one yet.”

  “Because,” Derrick explained to him, “they aren’t capable of interstellar travel. Every destroyer we have out here has to be carried or towed all the way from Earth. We can’t afford to use them for patrols, sir. They’re all attached to Combat Fleets. Whoever conceptualized those ships was a fool. The enemy benefits from their design more than we do.”

  “There she is, sir!” J Mac exclaimed, pointing to an obscure image on his monitor. Captain Hoile walked over to the starboard windows and peered out into the darkness beyond. Coming into view off the Mona Lisa’s starboard bow was the hull of a battleship that had been lost in action years ago. It was the very prize they’d been sent to recover, calmly waiting to be plucked from the surrounding carnage.

  J Mac winced as he surveyed the damage. “They really blew the crap outta this poor girl,” he said, eyeing the darkened remains on his screen. “I sure feel sorry for the crew that were on her. What a horrible way to go.”

  Captain Hoile carefully scrutinized the wreck. He noticed several gaping holes in its superstructure. “Looks like most of the damage is to the upper decks,” he said. “The lower hull still seems to be largely intact.”

  “Should we hook her up, Captain?” Derrick asked.

  The captain thought it over for a moment, then signaled his approval with a nod. “I think this one’s worth salvaging,” he said. “Let’s get astern of her and run out the tether.
And let’s not waste any time, shall we!”

  PHANTOMS 021

  Virginia leaned back against the seat of her fighter, relaxing to the subtle vibrations from her engines. It was her turn to fly patrol around Volaris, and she intended to make the most of it. There’s no action in this area to worry about, she told herself. Just a pleasant, leisurely coast through friendly space. The gentle beeping of her instruments seemed to mimic her thoughts as they lazily repeated their audible alerts. The scanner showed nothing but empty space around her. The only threat that concerned her at the moment was the chance that she might actually drift off to sleep. And even that would likely prove uneventful here.

  She took a deep breath of the cool air in her cockpit — cool only because she wanted it that way. It was nice to be in charge of her own climate for a while, free from the seemingly endless temperature swings on Volaris. Here, in the luxury of her own private cockpit, she could set a cool breeze on her face if she desired, or summon toasty air to warm up her toes. She was safe from the whims of those finicky station controllers who just couldn’t seem to keep their hands off the thermostat.

  Bleep, the scanner monotonously informed her, freeing her to continue her rest and relaxation. Chirp, her systems monitor repeated, reassuring her that everything was functioning properly.

  She allowed her thoughts to drift momentarily as she stared at the metallic body of her fighter. My plane is made out of star dust, she realized, recalling past conjecture about the nature of the universe. All elements heavier that hydrogen and helium at one time resided at the center of a star. A star that eventually blew itself to bits, disgorging its contents back into space.

  Bleep………………………………….

  Chirp………………………………….

  And since my fighter is composed almost entirely of metal, it obviously came from the depths of such a star.

  Bleep………………………………….

  Chirp………………………………….

  And so did Volaris, and all of the other space stations, and even all the planets, and moons, and comets…

  Bleep………………………………….

  Chirp………………………………….

  And even our bodies, she thought, looking down at herself — fascinated that part of her had once been inside a star.

  Bleep–Bleep…

  Or perhaps even several stars…

  Bleep–Bleep…

  She flinched and sat up straight in alarm, taking heed of the scanner’s warning signal.

  Bleep–Bleep…

  What could that be? she wondered. Her eyes scanned the area adjacent to her plane. A flash of light suddenly appeared to her right, calling her attention to the toothy grin of a Tiger Shark. She panicked and tried to veer out of its path, but the enemy fighter was already upon her. She closed her eyes and cringed, preparing for the worst as a firestorm of bullets engulfed her plane. The racket of destruction was deafening as hundreds of projectiles tore through her fighter. Taptaptaptaptap across both of her wings — tinktinktinktink through the glass of her canopy.

  “AAYYNNH!” she screamed in agony, pierced by a shell passing through her left shoulder. The impact threw her against the back of her seat, brutally knocking the wind out of her just as her oxygen began to bleed into space. Sensing a sudden drop in pressure, the fighter’s emergency seal deployed. A dense black liquid sprayed into her cockpit and raced to fill all of the holes in her canopy. In less than a second, the attack was over. Virginia was left bleeding in a torn and tattered warplane, gasping for air in its depleted atmosphere. A hissing sound filtered into the cockpit as its reserve air canisters attempted to restore pressure.

  Still reeling from the tremendous pain in her shoulder, she grabbed the flight stick with her right hand and tried to get her plane to respond. There was no reaction to any of her inputs. Her engines were bleeding power through numerous bullet holes, and her flight controls seemed to have been completely severed. She pulled the trigger to test her machine guns. They, at least, were still functioning. Wonderful! she thought with bitter sarcasm. Now if I can just talk him into flying in front of me.

  The enemy slowed and circled around, preparing to make another pass at her. What’s he doing? she wondered in bewilderment, watching as he pulled around directly in front of her. Maybe he thinks I’m already dead! She placed her finger on the trigger and hoped for a miracle. Perhaps she still had chance, if he was just foolish enough to come in a little closer. The Tiger Shark crept nearer to her, apparently oblivious to the threat of her guns. When it finally drew close enough for her to get a clearer view, Virginia was stunned by what she saw. His plane was riddled with hundreds of bullet holes. A large section of one wing had been completely blown away, and even the canopy was shattered and broken.

  What? she wondered in dismay and confusion. A feeling of helplessness overtook her as she came to understand the true nature of her opponent. Without warning, the Tiger Shark’s canopy ripped open, revealing a terrifying, inhuman figure that no amount of bullets could ever hope to kill…

  In a cold sweat, Virginia awoke from her dream. Her heart was beating at a fierce and frantic pace. She struggled to stop her body from shaking, and forced herself to climb out of bed. Seconds later, she was out in the corridor, making her way to the observation lounge. There, she would once again scan the heavens, watching for signs of the phantoms that tormented her. In the five years since her first encounter with Tiger Sharks, they had somehow managed to successfully elude her, despite her repeated attempts to engage them. If she could just face off with them in battle once more, then perhaps — one way or another — her suffering would finally come to an end.

  INTIMATIONS 022

  The morning’s workout called for three battleship laps — a significant escalation from the previous routine. By now, the girls were adapting to the exercise, learning how to better utilize their muscles and control their respiration for greater endurance. Their lap times were getting closer to Major Richards’ goal, and the aches and pains were gradually becoming less severe.

  As the battalion snaked its way along the corridors, Mindy was at the tail end of the line, with Robin running along right in front of her. As she focused on trying to control her breathing, Mindy found herself observing Robin’s movements. She was captivated by the way Robin’s hair flowed and bounced, and the jostling of her skirt as it reacted to her strides. There was a noticeable fluidity to the way Robin moved that suggested a measure of power and grace which Mindy felt was lacking in herself.

  Refocusing her attention on the girls ahead of Robin, she observed Michelle’s strides for a while, and then Caroline’s movements after hers. All of them appeared to be trotting along with ease, apparently unfazed by the strenuous activity — effortless in the way they seemed to glide through the corridors. Why isn’t it that easy for me? she wondered. Why are they all so much better at this? Right away, her intuition told her that it must have something to do with self–‌confidence.

  Of course! she realized. That had to be it. It was the one thing she was most lacking in. But where had the others gotten their confidence? And why hadn’t it come to her as well? For no apparent reason, an image from the sing–‌along formed in her thoughts — of the squadron of pilots who were singing together, and the two who had kissed each other in particular. She paired that image now with her earlier musings over whether her squad mates shared kisses with each other as well. Could that be the answer she was looking for? The secret catalyst that could free her from her ongoing stigma of being the weakest member of her squad? If I were to kiss one of my squad mates, she wondered, would that somehow allow me to share in their strength? Would I gain some level of confidence from them?

  Once again she found herself wondering if she might be missing out on something. Since the other girls all seemed so much more capable than herself, perhaps it was because they’d gained something from each other that Mindy had yet to gain
for herself. Perhaps that was all that was holding her back.

  As Mindy’s thoughts focused on her own perceived weaknesses, her group approached the base of one of the rung ladders. While Caroline and Michelle began their ascent, Robin stooped down to readjust one of her shoes. Seeing that she was going to be alone with Robin for a moment, Mindy agonized over whether she should share her concerns with her.

  “Robin?” she asked, coming to a stop by her side, “…have you ever kissed anyone?”

  Robin seemed mildly amused by her question. “Of course not, silly,” she said with a laugh. “Who would I have kissed?” Still smiling at Mindy as she reached for the ladder, she brushed the question off without giving it any further thought.

  As Robin proceeded to climb up the ladder, Mindy struggled to come to terms with her reply. She’d gotten her answer, straight from Robin’s mouth, but for some reason it had left her less than satisfied. There would be no easy path to self confidence for her; her hopes in that regard had just been thoroughly dashed. Nevertheless, part of her still longed for a kiss — if for no other reason than just for the experience alone.

  Pushing her concerns aside for now, she reached for the rungs and worked her way up the ladder. She saw Robin step onto the floor above her and quickened her pace to try to keep up. Just as she emerged through the ladder opening, one of the rungs snapped and broke off in her hands, sending her reeling to the deck down below. A piercing scream rang out through the corridor, abruptly silenced by a hollow thud.

  Robin spun around in panic when she heard Mindy’s scream. The missing rung immediately caught her attention. Realizing what must have happened, she gasped in horror and scrambled to the ladder. Dropping to her hands and knees, she peered through the opening in the floor and saw Mindy’s body lying pretzeled on the deck down below her.

  “MIN–DEEE!” Robin screamed. She reached for the ladder and lowered herself awkwardly past the missing rung. Descending to the third rung from the floor, she pushed off and leapt to Mindy’s side. Scooping up Mindy’s head in her arms, she checked to see if her eyes were still open. “HELP ME!” she cried at the top of her lungs, struggling to catch her breath through her sobs. Seconds later, she heard footsteps rapidly approaching. Lieutenant Marlowe had heard her cry for help and hurried toward the scream as fast as she could run.