“Helm, accelerate times three and come alongside port, 300k cover,” said Perez.
Corey looked at Pel, knowing that any moment he could lose his lunch everywhere, but Pel was glued to the screen and didn’t even see his brother’s glance.
“That’s it, Ari…fire!”
Ari sent the wave, and in a few seconds Thompson Beckham came on the com.
“Holy Mercury! They’re asleep, all of them. That’s smack jack, zeros!!”
The Roadrunner broke off from the pursuit as applause broke out on every ship in the fleet.
“That was beyond amazing, Mr. Lopez,” said Perez. How long should they be out for?”
“Uncertain, sir…what was our distance?”
“We were about three hundred kilometers from the Tillman.”
“So, with the…I went hyper at minus 10…z wave…I think they’ll be awake in five minutes. Is there any way I can have proximity information in real-time while we do this?”
“The officer we have coming in to replace you can read all our grid info, so for this session I’ll just relay it to you. You keep tabs on your kill results today, ok?”
“I wish he was here now, that would have helped.”
“Copy that, Ari. She. She’s coming in from Pier 3. That’s a pretty unique skill you have there. Not much of that in the military, so we had to search. She’ll be here for tomorrow’s maneuvers, and she’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“Major General Perez, you know Pel and I came to Earth for our mother,” said Corey. “But if you need us in any way tomorrow, we are here for you.”
“Not a problem guys, we’ll have you back at the hospital tonight, like we agreed,” said Perez. “And thank you.”
“Now Ari, you won’t piddle yourself with fear tomorrow if we aren’t here?”
“Pel, if you are not here, I would have to say…NO!”
“I’m not feeling the love right now,” said Pel.
“You’ve still got Jon and Jim, and me too if you want!” said Reena.
“Ree, I will take you up on-”
“Perez, let’s reset for another run,” McCalvin’s voice came booming in.
“Roger that, sir, we-”
There was a beeping, followed by a short siren.
Incoming Emergency Action Message.
Incoming Emergency Action Message.
* * *
The greeting envoy aboard the USS Jimmy Carter was hand-picked by Presidenta Murillo. It was comprised of the Earth’s top ambassadors and a few heads of state that had volunteered to be on the team. Also on board were two military psychologists, a protocol expert, the original Foon ambassador from Antarctica and a war police negotiator. They all thought they would have more time to discuss the content of their initial statement, but with the escalation of the timeline, they were being forced to write the script en route. Presidenta Yolanda Murillo was leading the discussion. If it came down to a face-to-face meeting with the approaching beings, hers would be the face they would see.
They were seated at a large, oval-shaped conference table on the ship’s observation deck as they sped toward the intercept.
Murillo opened the conversation.
“My distinguished colleagues, we are in a most urgent situation, and we have very little time to accomplish our task. I want to begin by thanking Lunar Ambassador Riley-Four for her insight regarding the timeline. As you know, she predicted the second hyper-jump of the Foon, and exactly where they would be upon exiting light speed. If it weren’t for her, we may still be packing to make this flight, but fortunately we will be able to intercept. Ambassador Riley-Four, thank you.”
They applauded.
“It was nothing, just math,” said the ambassador, bowing her head.
“They are currently two million kilometers directly in front of us,” said Murillo. “It is imperative that we finalize the agenda for opening communication with this species, and that we agree, or at least come close to agreeing, on our opening statement. For a rundown on our transmitting capability, I give you the floor, Madame Beemer of the African Union.”
“Presidenta Murillo, distinguished guests,” began Beemer, “I’m sure most of you know that we are going to start with a broadband audio signal to hail the approach. Subroot, EH Microwave, AM, FM, 340G enhanced, Nanowave, Tesla Spectrum, Firepipe and Tri-blast are all set to broadcast the same hail, and pretty much everything in-between as well. If they can’t hear us, they’re either deafer than moon rocks or so advanced that we don’t have a prayer.” There was a burst of scattered, nervous laughter.
“It is my understanding that the military has been experimenting with an advanced communication system that could be a weapon, affecting their ability to interact. If we’d had more time, we might have been able to find a way to exploit that to get our message through. But we don’t have that luxury, so here we go. All we need is to agree on what to say.”
“Ambassador Phan, please read the statement as it stands,” said Murillo.
“Yes, Madame Presidenta,” said the young diplomatic charge from the Asian Island Emirates, “Greetings and peace from the blue planet Earth, and a warm welcome to your species from ours. We invite you to join us in communion and sharing of knowledge and friendship, but we must know your intentions. Please slow your fleet now, and respond with your statement of intent. It is of the utmost importance, as we are sure you understand. We eagerly await your response; please do so immediately. We thank you in advance.”
“Too soft,” blurted the Canadian Prime Minister Edward Barzinpour. “We sound like school children.”
“It needs to start with ‘slow your fleet now,’” said Indian States Vice Councilman Gearge Shankar. “Then we can add diplomacy.”
Many voices started chiming in at the same time, creating a noise that became very unproductive very quickly. Murillo, however, listened all around.
“Please, quiet, quiet!” she shouted finally. “I have to agree, perhaps ‘Greetings and peace from the blue planet Earth, and a warm welcome to your species from ours. Please slow your fleet now; it is mandatory.’”
“Yes, then the rest, very well,” said the UK Ambassador Samson Eldridge.
It went on like that for about fifteen more minutes. A strong but diplomatic message was finally arrived at and coded into the translator. Several mathematical versions were also being entered on a side chain, even an old Earth Morse code version. All bases were being covered in the event the actual language wasn’t being understood.
“Madame Presidenta, we’re ready.”
The diplomats, twenty-five in all, had moved to the upper level of the observation deck, above the conference table. It was a tiered, theater-like venue with a full panoramic window to space.
“Ok, everyone take your seats please,” said Murillo. “Madame Beemer.”
Beemer gave the order and the transmissions were sent. The group gazed intently out into the vastness of space, hearing the message being dispersed as a series of beeps and blips, tones and static sounds, while their eyes peered forward, left, right, then forward again.
Minutes passed with no response. They were mostly silent as they waited for a sign of the oncoming fleet, any indication at all that this was really happening. They were here for diplomacy and proof, proof that everything they had been told, everything they had seen and read day after day was really true. An unforgettable moment in history was coming to fruition, a moment that—
“Over there, to the right,” came a shaky voice.
There was a rumble of voices in response.
“Everyone check your safety shields,” exclaimed Murillo.
A small dot of light was getting brighter and larger, and chatter began amongst the group. Some were immediately sensing doom, while others were fascinated to take in the vision with their own eyes. Was this the Foon fleet? A ship? A weapon? The light grew brighter and the rumble turned to shouting as an automated voice came over the com, “Incoming threat, take evasive action, incoming threat, take ev
asive action.”
The ship lurched to the left, and everybody was pulled hard and fast to the right. A loud groan filled the room. A flight attendant who was serving refreshments flew against the starboard wall in a flurry of breaking glass and flying debris. The blinding light rushed by the right side of the ship and desperate screams followed, as the captain began his distress call.
“Mayday, Mayday this is USS Jimmy Carter, we are under attack, repeat, we are under attack.”
The fireball made a tight circle around the swerving vessel and locked on to its signature again, increasing speed and closing distance. The captain turned directly into the oncoming blast and fired a stream of interceptors at the light while attempting to swerve to the other side, but it was too late. The weapon became as bright as the sun in the observation window, and all dignitaries shielded their eyes and ducked their heads.
The impact was nothing less than total annihilation. The greeting envoy, with Presidenta Murillo, had been vaporized in space. Nothing remained, not even dust.
* * *
“General, we’re receiving an Emergency Action Message from the Hexagon, recommend alert one, recommend alert one,” came a voice over the com on board the Hard Mac.
“Chief, send your two best for authentication,” said McCalvin. Chief of the Boat Junia Ryan-Five snapped her fingers, then nodded her head. Two women briskly turned in unison and left the bridge.
“Sir we have a properly authenticated message for you from the Director’s office at the Hexagon. Onscreen in yours now.”
“Ryan-Five, take the con,” McCalvin said as he left the control area and headed for his private quarters.
He swiped the door to dissolve and entered the room, “Close and lock door.”
“Onscreen,” he said as the door reappeared behind him, and he placed his right palm on the console and spoke his name.
“Mac,” came the voice and image of President Cardigan, “Riley-Four was right; the Foon have jumped again. They’re here.”
“Goddammit! What about the Carter, have they intercepted?”
“They’re gone, Mac. Annihilated, without a word.”
“Shit! Holy hell, my God…”
“I am coordinating the emergency response here and on Moon. All intel is in your box. I’m sorry we couldn’t give you more time, but war is declared.”
“Jesus, Andrew, we only have twenty-one trinukes loaded. The rest are-”
“I know. It’s on the record that you recommended a second manufacturing site for trinitium nukes before the accident, and I turned it down. It’s on me. James, we are all in your hands, and there are no better hands than yours. Give ‘em hell.”
“Yes sir, Mr. President, I read you loud and clear,” replied Mac, “may God have mercy on us all. Transmission end.” He bowed his head for ten seconds, then dashed for the door.
Splitting the trinitium atom had never been done. Because of the extreme power the element had, it was considered an unthinkable act. But after learning of the Foon approach, the Tribunal ordered the work begun at the Manhattan Proving Grounds on Mars. The result was success and disaster. The test explosion was much more powerful than the math had predicted, and the entire facility was taken out, along with every worker there. By the time the first Foon hyper-jump was achieved, there were only twenty-one viable trinitium nukes, manufactured at a makeshift facility near the Farside quarry on Moon.
“Everybody, gather up,” said McCalvin. “All stations at com.” There was a chilling tension in the room as the general waved his wrist over the com panel. “Fleetwide, your attention now, your attention now, this is Mac.” He waited.
“The Foon have made a second hyper-jump, and they are here.” He looked around the bridge of his ship, locking eyes with every senior officer. “They have taken out our diplomatic team. Clearly, we are engaging a hostile enemy. I need all captains to report in now, status in two minutes. This is no longer an exercise. I repeat this is NOT a drill. McCalvin out.”
On board the Roadrunner, Corey, Pel, Reena, Jim and Ari all looked at each other in disbelief.
“This is totally not happening,” said Corey out loud. Seriously, we are going into battle? We’re going to be soldiers? They were there because they had an idea, because they cared. And now there they were, a bunch of young musicians, an artiman and a club manager at the front lines of the greatest battle in the history of the solsys. It was unthinkable.
“My Lord,” said Jim. “Never would have guessed-”
“Strap in kids, and you too Mr. Matthews. I’m very sorry to say you’re in the battle,” Perez said in a forceful voice. “I need you to sit tight, keep alert, and you might want to pray.”
Corey touched Reena’s restraint console to tighten it, securing her in her chair. As he did so, he began waving with Pel and felt his fear. He could feel it more than his own, and it made his skin feel cold and clammy. His mother’s face appeared before him, crying, and he immediately looked over at Pel, only to catch his brother bending forward with dry heaves.
“Pel!” Corey yelled.
“Mom,” Pel cried, still heaving at the floor.
“General Perez, with respect sir, can we contact our parents?” Pel asked, his voice trembling. He looked at Corey.
“Roadrunner, alpha gamma, execute. Major General Perez, report.”
“Corey, Pel, you have less than two minutes before we have to cut all civilian com to Earth and Moon,” barked Perez, adjusting a headset.
Corey went right to his wrist, and immediately the UE logo hovered in front of him.
“General, it’s asking for a code!” Corey’s voice was pitched high, desperate.
“Pierre, this is Mac. I’m putting two guns at your point.”
“Oh hell, goddammit Corey, get over here,” Perez yelled. Corey moved quickly, and Perez put his wrist into the hovering logo. Within seconds it was replaced by the face of Roy Jagger-Seven. He was crying.
“Dad?” Corey’s voice cracked. He moved away from the general and sat back down.
“Fleetwide, we are at full dispersion. Maintain course and speed.”
“Dad, are you ok?”
“No, Corey I’m not; sorry I-”
“Dad, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Pel and I-”
“Corey, mom didn’t make it.”
“What??”
“Dad?”
“She passed only a few minutes ago. I was there. She fought so hard, and she-”
“Dad, what are you saying? She was fine!! She was recovering! DAD!”
“They are not sure what caused it yet, but she’s…she’s gone.”
Pel jumped in front of the hovering image. “Dad, this isn’t funny, you stop it!” he yelled, and Corey pushed him away.
“You have ten seconds!” yelled Perez.
“Dad, the battle is starting and we are in it, I know it wasn’t supposed to go like this, I’m so sorry to tell you I don’t know what might happen, go to the hospital shelter, we are with the Space Force, DAD!” Corey was crying hard. The signal went silent.
“I’m sorry I had to cut you from that conversation, son, I had no choice,” Perez said softly.
“I understand, sir,” Corey bubbled.
“Corey, Pel, man I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Ari said, with his hands at the board. He wanted to get up and give them a hug, but he was working his waveforms, breathing hard.
“This is a shit storm for you boys like none other,” said Jim. ”I can only imagine how you feel, and now we gotta deal with these assholes.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, boys,” said Perez. “Ari, you ready to go?”
“Absolutely not, sir,” Ari said nervously.
“I heard that,” said Perez. “Stay calm. Orders are coming any second, everyone on alert now.”
“Jon, can you calibrate one more time?” asked Ari. Jon plugged a cable into his ear and the other end into the board.
“You are good to go, Ari,” said Jon.
&n
bsp; “Ari, I need you to put your artiman on mute, you ok with that?” asked Perez.
“He’s set not to speak unless asked a direct question, is that ok?” asked Ari. “I may need him.”
“You got it.”
Everyone was seated in the command chairs at the back of the bridge, behind the captain’s chair. It was where observing leaders such as an admiral, politician, or flight battle trainer would sit. Pel’s eyes were red with tears, but he was holding back from crying out loud. Corey had his head in his hands, and Reena was patting his back. Jon was standing right next to them, magnetically anchored to the wall.
Major General Pierre Perez had no problem with the arrangement; he was not one to be obsessed with protocol. He had but one mission, and that was to make sure this speedship could get in position for Aristotle Lopez to do his thing if needed. And this Titan was not a fighter; he was a musician. It was not by plan that he and his friends were in this mess, but since they were here, the bridge was the best place for them to be. They were his support.
Perez had worked hard to get where he was in the military, and to be in this position under McCalvin was the fulfillment of a dream. He was raised on Titan until the age of eighteen, which gave him and Ari something to talk about. Right now, they both were looking forward to having that talk.
“Fleet, this is Hard Mac. We’re transmitting from long-range cameras now, look at your lower screen.”
An image flashed on the screen that made Corey squeeze Reena’s hand so hard she shrieked.
“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” he cried as he released her hand and deactivated his restraint, standing up and stepping toward the screen. His jaw was open and his eyes unblinking, fixed on the image.
The warships. From his dream. The warships that killed his dad, killed him. There looked to be thousands, a sea of machinery bearing down on the UE fleet.
“Corey, strap in NOW,” barked Perez.
“Long-range scanners are giving us a readout,” said McCalvin, “here’s the configuration.”
A virtual overhead view of the oncoming fleet went onscreen. It was massive. There appeared to be several different types of craft, in perfect alignment with each other, divided into subgroups.
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