“We’re all clear. Heading back,” Grant radioed in.
“That’s it. Get us moving!”
“Vector, sir?” the navigator inquired.
“One AU ahead. Just get us out of here!” Fox slumped back in his seat as the drive engaged. A three minute countdown appeared on the clock. What had Grant gotten them into? At this rate, they’d have been better off fighting on Mars.
The commander prime appeared in the doorway, again attired in his black and red combat gear. “Well, that was more complicated than I was hoping.”
“Do tell.”
“I just can’t believe they’ve still got enough of those shitbags to keep throwing them at us. What do they do? Grow them in pods over there?”
“Beats me. Just keep killing them,” Fox replied.
“Now that’s the best idea you’ve had in a while. Call it done! Speaking of, where are we headed?”
“Nowhere. I’m putting us in a couple short jumps. Maybe between that and shielding the processor we’ll get the virus out of sync and put them behind us.”
Grant nodded, but the thin smile faded from his face as they dropped back out of the jump into real space. “What was that about behind us?”
Fox looked up and saw the forward screen fill with alien ships numbering into the hundreds. “Oh shit.”
“Commander, they’re targeting us!”
“Target them back!” Grant broke in. “That’s a whole gaddamn armada! Get their attention! Plot another jump! NOW!”
The guns around the Flagstaff fired in unison, trading shots with the alien vessels pouring into view from every direction. The bridge lights flickered along with their shields, taxed under the constant impacts. “Solution calculated. Jumping,” the navigator reported. Once again, the lone ship flung itself into the void with a train of aliens in hot pursuit.
***
“With three-minute jumps, it’ll take us a while to get across the galaxy,” Grant offered to Fox.
“I’m aware, but I’ve got no other options right now.”
“Sir, we’ve got a malfunction in the navigation system!”
“Dammit, not again!” Fox leapt to his feet. “What is it this time? The virus again?”
“No, sir. This is something different,” the officer relayed. “It’s like we’re flying at a giant brick wall. I can’t see past it!”
“Well don’t let us crash,” Grant ordered. “Take us out if you need to.” He turned to the commander again. “I’m beginning to lose faith in your ship.”
Fox gave the soldier a cold glance but kept his words to himself. He watched through the front screen as again, the black, wispy smear of hyperspace evaporated, leaving them alone again in a starry expanse.
As their eyes adjusted, half of the view became obstructed by a wide, dark swirl of dust and smoke surrounding a core of nothing.
“Did you just fly us at a black hole?” Grant demanded, leaning forward toward the screen.
“It’s not a black hole!” the navigator defended. “A black hole would have shown up differently. It wouldn’t have pulled us out of hyperspace!”
“Well that’s what it looks like!” the commander roared, and watched as the rest of their trailing alien ships flickered into view behind them.
Fox froze in place, trying to interpret what he was seeing. For the first time, he was at a loss for words.
Grant broke the silence, “Fly straight into it!”
“Have you lost your mind?” Fox snapped back into reality. “That’ll kill every last one of us and rip the ship apart!”
“We can at least take those freaks with us!” Grant yelled, pointing at the map with a hundred red dots bearing down on their position. “Do it now!”
The pilot didn’t ask questions and hammered down on the engines. The speed was enough to put some distance between them and the aliens, but the massive vortex still barely turned. “Why aren’t we moving toward it?”
“We are, but it’s as big as a solar system!”
“Get us down there faster!” Grant ordered again, and felt the gravity well pick up intensity as they screamed into certain oblivion.
49
“What the hell are they doing up there?” Scott frantically asked Othello as they held onto the harnesses beside the main landing bay.
“I don’t know,” Othello remarked, and pulled a bullet from his sidearm. He dropped the small metal cylinder on the floor and watched as it rolled about in a circle. “Gravity is going to shit,” he added.
“Like what, near a star?”
“Yeah, sure,” the miner replied, his voice trailing. “I don’t think we’re coming out of this.”
Scott instantly knew what he meant. Rather than make a scene, he simply gripped the harness tighter, closed his eyes, and tried to control his breathing.
***
The Flagstaff continued to pick up speed, roaring into the center of the swirling maelstrom. It had only taken minutes, but the tiny human ship had already completed an orbit on its wide path into the center. The gravity cells were nearly useless, unable to keep up with the massive changes in velocity, vector, and acceleration.
“Hold on! Keep going!” Grant yelled, falling back into the seat behind the center map beside the commander. The force had pulled his feet right out from beneath him.
The lights began to flicker from the stress to the shields, and Fox felt his eyes being pressed against the back of his head. He knew the feeling from initial flight training. Tensing his body, Fox focused on every breath and forced blood to his head to keep himself conscious. It was a losing battle, but he couldn’t give up.
His fingers turned white from the grip on his armrests. With nothing else to do, Fox concentrated on the center map once again. The number of alien ships had dropped and now flickered around the mid-seventies. They could have given up pursuit or they could have succumbed to the force now tearing him apart.
***
Grant lost sensation in every extremity of his body, but he held on with every last bit of strength. He couldn’t tell if the other commanding officers were still awake or if they had already blacked out. He dared not turn his head and check on Gordon for the risk of losing consciousness himself. There was nothing else he could do.
While a sense of defeat might have been pounding at the edges of his mind, he kept it at bay. There was nothing to be ashamed of. He and the rest of the crew of the Flagstaff exemplified the highest calling of duty and honor. His transgressions, sins, and memories washed away, leaving him alone in the blinding light of creation.
On his chest he still felt the shining badge of the Crimson Elite, a force of his creation that had stood to the last man and saved Earth from untold devastation. Its weight increased, and he felt it press down harder. The man beside him could easily have been one of them, and then where would they be? How different would the day have transpired?
The last fleeting glimpse of life the commander prime remembered as he slipped away was the singular shape of her face. “Jeff . . . LIVE!”
Epilogue
The remains of a derelict human ship floated dead amongst a sea of alien stars. No lights shown from its surface, and not a single system remained intact. Every hallway was dark, and every last body hung lifeless.
The burning stars around them were untouched by the arm of humanity. The barren rocks surrounding them had never been trodden, mapped, or imagined. They had never known the sting of battle.
Beyond the fold, they were erased from history, but they were not alone. A presence sought them out from the untold billions.
The ship was primitive, but it had survived the journey intact unlike the others. There were flashes of ingenuity among the simpler devices. Crude interstellar travel, of course, along with weapons and limitless information were readily available.
But that wasn’t all. Something dark lurked within the metal frame. Something evil.
***
Jefferson Grant was dead. He was sure of it, but yet his mi
nd told him otherwise. He felt the metal floor upon his back, a ringing in his ears and an utter lack of sensation. The commander forcefully opened his eyes to a blinding light from above.
He saw the roof of the Flagstaff’s flight deck come into focus, and then, out of his periphery, the faces of two dark gray beings filled his field of view. They turned their heads, considering the fallen soldier as a person might look upon an injured insect. Grant couldn’t scream. He couldn’t move. The last image to flash through his mind was that of the nearest creature’s hand reaching toward his face.
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MissionSRX: Ephemeral Solace Page 33