Space Rocks!

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Space Rocks! Page 19

by Tom O'Donnell


  Last was Becky.

  “So you want me to fight the Vorem, risk my life to help the Xotonians so that they can turn around and attack the human race again, like Sheln wants,” said Becky. “Yeah, no thanks. This isn’t our war.”

  “I know you’re still angry about the asteroid-quake,” I said. “I would be too. We made a bad decision because we were afraid.”

  “Chorkle, you’ve been kind to me. Helped us all a lot. I consider you a friend,” said Becky. “But as for the rest of your species, I look at them and I see a clannish, small-minded group that lashes out at anyone different from themselves.”

  “But don’t you get it?” said Nicki. “We acted the same way toward Chorkle at first. You saw how our parents freaked out when—”

  “No, she’s right,” I said. “At our worst, we do act this way. But I believe we’re capable of doing better. And I’m not the only one. Think of Hudka or Linod or the crowd that carried Little Gus through the streets. All I can tell you is that we’re not all bad. Nobody is. Not humans. Not Xotonians.”

  “Look, Becky,” said Hollins, “like it or not, the Vorem will be here before our parents. If they succeed in conquering Gelo, then it won’t matter anyway. We’ll be prisoners . . . or worse. I trust the Xotonians a lot more than I trust the Vorem. And as long as we’re on this asteroid, our fate is tied to these aliens.”

  “Well, maybe the Xotonians should have thought of that before they tried to kill us.”

  “Trust me, sis. I don’t want to fight either. But they’re going to attack Earth next. And unless we can stop them here, they’ll have the Q-sik when they do.”

  “Well, maybe the Vorem, at least, will have the courage to attack us with it directly.”

  I translated her response back into Xotonian for Kalac. Kalac nodded slowly.

  “I understand. And if I were her, I don’t know if I’d consider the Xotonians worth helping,” said my originator. “But would you please tell her that, whatever she decides to do . . . I’m sorry.”

  I did.

  Becky paused for a long moment. “Thank you,” she said at last.

  “Look,” said Hollins, “I’m about to say something that I am probably going to regret. Something that I probably won’t hear the end of for the rest of my life. Words that are going to cause me physical pain to utter.”

  He gulped. We all waited.

  “Well?” said Becky.

  “Becky,” he said, “there’s a small chance that . . . by a certain definition . . . you might be . . .” He trailed off.

  “Excuse me?”

  “C’mon. Please don’t make me repeat it.”

  Becky waited again.

  “Ugh. Okay. You are a better pilot than me. There! Are you happy? You’re a better pilot than me. And I don’t think we can do this without you.”

  “You know,” said Becky, grinning, “I’d already made my mind up to help after Kalac apologized. But thanks for telling me. Good to know.”

  “Yes!” I screamed and turned a triple backflip. With Becky and Hollins, we could at least get two of the starfighters in the air.

  “Great. Everyone gets to go but me,” said Little Gus, and he threw Hudka’s cane hard at the ground.

  “Yo, sorry,” he said as he sullenly picked it up and handed it back to my grand-originator.

  We were mostly alone in the plaza now. Along with a few stragglers, only Ydar and the large view-screen remained. On it, the battle cruiser still floated ominously, red lights blinking.

  “Okay,” said Kalac. “Shall I inform Ridian of our decision?”

  “What?” cried Hudka. “Why in the name of Morool would you tell that monster anything?”

  “I’ve learned my lesson,” said Kalac. “I’m not going to start a war without trying to talk first. I need to give Ridian the chance to back down. The stakes are too high.”

  “You know . . . you’re right,” said Hudka. For the record, it was the only time in my memory when I’d heard Hudka say this phrase to Kalac.

  “High Observer Ydar,” said Kalac, “is it possible to contact Ridian from here?”

  “Sure, Chief,” said Ydar. “Just give me a moment.” Ydar plugged in the camera and microphone, fiddled with a few settings on the screen, and pounded the side of the screen once for good measure.

  “Okay,” said Ydar. “Calling now.”

  There was a moment of static. Then the screen showed the armored general. He was scarcely less frightening than his jagged black ship.

  “Hello, General Ridian,” said Kalac.

  “Greetings, Kalac, Chief of the Council,” said Ridian. “I take it you have decided to give up the Q-sik.”

  “We have decided to do no such thing. I’m contacting you to give you the chance to abandon your current course of action. We don’t have to fight. I believe we can have peace.”

  “Indeed, it will be most peaceful when all of you are dead. Shall I arm my nuclear missiles and destroy you?” His hands danced across the instrument panel in front of him.

  “Perhaps you can do that, but I don’t think that you will. I think you want the Q-sik too badly to destroy it. So I guess you’ll have to come down here and get it.”

  Ridian paused. “You’ve called my bluff. You are correct. In approximately twenty hours, I will, indeed, land troops on your asteroid, enter your tunnels, and bring the Q-sik back out.”

  “I must warn you that will be no easy feat,” said Kalac.

  “Good. To be perfectly honest, I hoped you wouldn’t give it up without a fight,” laughed Ridian. “There is more glory in an invasion. My son will be leading it, you know. It will give him his first taste of battle, of true command. An opportunity to prove whether he is weak or strong.”

  “All the more reason to call this whole thing off,” said Kalac. “No reason for you to risk your son’s life. Or to endanger the life of my own offspring. All of our offspring.”

  “I disagree. We have a saying on Voryx Prime: My triumph is your blood.”

  “I wish you’d reconsider, Ridian. I believe the universe is big enough for Vorem and Xotonian and human too.”

  “Wrong,” said Ridian. “There is only one universe. It belongs to us.” And the screen went dark.

  “Nice guy,” said Hudka. “We should consider inviting him over for the next Feast of Zhavend.”

  “We don’t have much time now,” said Kalac. “We need to get our defenses in order and try to bring those starfighters online.”

  “Eromu!” Kalac called out, seeing the guard on its usk-lizard across the plaza.

  Eromu trotted closer. “Yes, Chief of Council?” It eyed the young humans, especially Hollins—who had once held it at blaster-point—with suspicion.

  “Bring more usk-lizards from the guardhouse stables. We need to get to the ruins of Flowing-Stone, fast.”

  “Very well, Chief,” said Eromu, and it galloped off.

  “Tell the human children to ready themselves,” said Kalac to me.

  “Before we go,” I said to Kalac, “there’s one more thing we need.” And I pointed to the Vault.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Becky eased up the vertical thrusters. Slowly, slowly, the Xotonian starfighter began to float upward.

  “It’s working!” I cried. We were hovering about five meters off the floor of the hangar now.

  “And forward thrusters,” came Nicki’s voice over the com. Becky nudged the throttle, and the ship began to slowly float forward.

  “Now stop,” said Nicki, and we did.

  “And roll.”

  Becky gently wiggled the control stick right then left. The whole ship rolled from side to side.

  “Pitch,” said Nicki.

  Becky pushed the stick forward, bringing the nose of the ship down. She pulled it backward, bringing the nose up.

 
“And yaw,” said Nicki.

  Becky twisted the stick, and the nose of the ship turned right and left.

  “Looking good,” said Becky. “I’m bringing her down now.” Ever so gently, Becky set the ship back onto the floor of the hangar. She really was a good pilot.

  It had taken many hours, but the third starfighter was finally online.

  For the first time in centuries, the iridium hangar beneath the ruins was alive with activity. It had become part workshop, part command center.

  Nicki had been coding furiously—sometimes on both holodrives at once—ever since we’d arrived. Four Observers, including Ghillen, had accompanied us. Of all Xotonians, their understanding of our ancient technology was the greatest. They offered advice and assisted Nicki where they could, especially in creating a communication link between the ships and the Observatory.

  A tiny screen in the cockpit crackled on, and Ydar’s face appeared on it. “Hello, this is High Observer Ydar. Do you read me?”

  “Hey, Ydar!” I said. Ydar frowned.“I mean, greetings, High Observer,” I said. “We read you loud and clear.”

  “All this . . . broadcasting,” chuckled Ydar. “I’m worried I’m going to develop a taste for it. Anyway, your ships will have our eyes and ears here in Core-of-Rock and on the surface as well, if you need them.”

  “Is it possible to contact the human ship, Phryxus?”

  “I’ve tried. But so far, no luck. Ridian is still jamming all our external communications,” said Ydar. “I’ll keep at it, though. If I can get a hold of the humans, I’ll patch them through directly. Ydar out.”

  The time of the invasion was approaching fast. Again and again we discussed and refined the plan. We would wait until Ridian had landed the troops on Gelo with his triremes. Then, once the Vorem were fully engaged in our tunnels, we would launch a surprise attack against the unprotected battle cruiser. We hoped that if we hit it hard and fast, we could take out the ship’s hyperdrive and communications systems.

  Hollins would fly the first fighter, and Nicki would be his gunner. She didn’t seem excited to put her Xenostryfe III skills to the ultimate test, but this was mitigated by a strange eagerness to spend time alone with Hollins. Very odd.

  Becky would fly the second fighter with Kalac on board. My originator would not be the gunner, however. That role would be filled by—you guessed it—me. Kalac protested at first, until I performed a quick demo of my Xenostryfe capabilities on Nicki’s holodrive. Kalac conceded that I was qualified. I got a score of 1,672,890, a personal best.

  Despite a total lack of experience, two brave Xotonians—Ornim and Chayl—had volunteered to fly the final starfighter.

  Ever the optimist, Hollins hoped to give them a crash course in piloting. But in the end, they simply couldn’t get the hang of it. While Hollins was trying to explain some basic astronautic concept, Chayl lost control of the ship and rammed it into one of the walls of the hangar, nearly killing us all. The ship suffered only minor damage, and no one was hurt, but it was the end of their flight training.

  “Maybe if I had two months,” sighed Hollins. “But either of them in the cockpit . . . is going to be more of a liability than a help.”

  “If only Nicki had some sort of flight simulator game on her holodrive, then maybe I would know how to fly a spaceship right now,” I said. “Instead I only know how to race cars in endless circles in ‘Indianapolis.’”

  “Maybe that’ll come in handy one day,” said Hollins, shrugging. He sounded doubtful.

  So Ornim and Chayl reluctantly returned to Core-of-Rock on the back of an usk-lizard. There, they could at least contribute to the general defense.

  I worried about the Xotonian city. Even if we succeeded in disabling or destroying the battle cruiser, Core-of-Rock could still be overrun with Vorem legionaries. I hoped Hudka and Little Gus would remain safe.

  Little Gus had protested mightily when Hollins had insisted he stay behind.

  “Come on, man! I want to help. Just let me help,” Little Gus had said, standing in the doorway of my dwelling. “I’m old enough. I’ll be eleven soon!”

  “I’m sorry Gus,” Hollins had said quietly.

  And Little Gus had stared at the ground, tears shining on his cheeks. Hudka tried to comfort him, but when Nicki told them we’d need to take both holodrives with us, they both began to wail in despair. For Hudka and Little Gus, there would be no video games for the duration of the battle. War is hell, as the human expression goes.

  Indeed, Nicki was now using both holodrives. The ships were operational. Communications were online. But there was one thing left to do.

  Ghillen and the other three Observers were working with her to modify Becky’s starfighter. On the nose of the ship, with the help of welding torches and wires and Jalasu Jhuk’s ancient manual, they had mounted the Q-sik.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The hatches of the triremes fell open, and dozens of Vorem legionaries poured out. They wore heavy segmented black armor and carried blaster rifles. They were a fighting force that had conquered countless worlds before. Across the blue-gray surface of Gelo they marched, bearing the battle standard of General Stentorus Sovyrius Ridian. It was as grim as you might have expected: three black suns on a field of red.

  In tense silence, we watched the invasion on a view-screen. The feed had been piped to the hangar from the surface, via the Observatory.

  Ridian had only landed five of his ten triremes for the invasion. The other five remained in orbit near his ship.

  “Well,” sighed Hollins, “I guess the battle cruiser won’t be unprotected after all.”

  “I hope the mighty Daniel Hollins isn’t afraid,” said Becky. I couldn’t speak for anyone else, but the mighty Chorkle was terrified. To calm my mind, I tried to focus on the memory of Zenyk’s face as we won the oog-ball match.

  On the screen, a centurion used a handheld scanning device to locate one of our surface hatches. He quickly reported his findings back to a slender Vorem in ornate armor and a heavy crimson cloak, the legate leading the invasion. Was this Ridian’s son?

  The legate nodded, and the centurion flung the hatch open. Down the Vorem legion marched, into the darkness.

  “The Stealth Shield ought to conceal the general underground location of Gelo, but . . . it won’t be long now,” said Kalac.

  Periodically, the Observers changed the view-screens to different feeds. At several points on the surface, the same scene was repeating itself. The Vorem were invading the Gelo cavern system from five separate entrances.

  “I guess it’s time for us to get ready,” said Becky. “You know, when I said I wanted to be a pilot, fighting in an alien space war wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Yeah. Reporter might be a safer profession right about now,” I said.

  “Right now, I’d settle for plain old seventh grader. Don’t tell Hollins, but I’m completely terrified.”

  “Well, growing up is doing what you have to do. Even when you’re afraid,” I offered.

  “Where did you get that?” asked Becky. “Seriously, Chorkle. That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

  Becky and I walked toward her newly modified starfighter. On the nose of her ship, the glowing tetrahedron of the Q-sik spun slowly. The device had been connected to special controls inside. Kalac stood and stared at it.

  “Chorkle, please translate for Becky,” said my originator. “To break through that battle cruiser’s energy shields, I will be using a higher power setting for the Q-sik. After we aim it, it will take at least a minute to spin up to its greatest speed before it can fire.” I repeated this in human. Becky nodded.

  This was the nearest I’d been to the Q-sik yet. I could feel the power radiating from it in dizzying waves. The closer I got, the more my skin tingled. It felt like passing through the Stealth Shield times a hundre
d.

  “Firing this weapon brings unintended consequences,” said Kalac. “I realize that now. The only thing worse than using it again would be letting the Vorem have it.”

  I hoped that was true. After all, this whole thing had been my idea. “It’s not too late,” I said. “Maybe we could destroy the Q-sik instead. That way, no one could ever use it again.”

  “I think that was Jalasu Jhuk’s ultimate goal,” said Kalac. “It left such extensive notes on the Q-sik not so that we would know how to use it as a weapon but to help one day destroy it.”

  “So does the manual explain how?”

  “No. Apparently Jhuk never figured it out. Otherwise it would have done so a long time ago,” said Kalac. “According to Jhuk’s notes, damaging the Q-sik in any way could release the energy contained within. When we fire it—when you see its power—you’ll understand just how catastrophic that would be.”

  “Kalac, I don’t understand. If Xotonians didn’t create the Q-sik, and the Vorem didn’t either . . . then who did?”

  Kalac shook its head. “The manual offers no clue. It seems we’re all starting to realize that there is much in the universe that we don’t know. It makes what is certain all the more valuable. . . .”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Chorkle . . . I’m so sorry I said I wished I’d never originated you. It was a lie.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Originating you was the greatest thing I ever did,” said Kalac. And it hugged me close. Tears welled in all of our eyes.

  At last, Kalac nodded. It turned and boarded the starfighter. Becky cleared her throat. She’d been standing beside us the whole time.

 

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