Childhoods Lost (Sentinels Saga Book 2)

by Linn Schwab

  As she made her way to the infirmary, her thoughts revolved around the dilemma of how she should introduce herself. Was there anything to be gained by concealing her identity, or should she just come right out and be honest with him? Could she afford to waste time posturing, or was it getting too late for that already? If the Major’s analysis of his condition was correct, he could start showing symptoms at any time. The questions were still spinning about in her mind when she stopped and looked in through the infirmary’s doorway. What she saw pushed her calculated scheming aside, and offered a perspective she hadn’t considered.

  The major was lying unconscious on a bed while the pilot sat intimately close to her side, holding her hand in one of his palms while caressing the side of her face with the other. There was no way to misconstrue his actions. The depth of his concern for her was readily apparent. He cares about her, the commander realized. She must have really connected with him. A curious thought occurred to her now. I wonder how he’d feel if he knew the truth.

  “Your sentiments for her are very touching,” she said, deciding to make him aware of her presence. He briefly glanced over his shoulder at her, just long enough to get a good look at her uniform. “But I’m afraid it’s just wasted effort on your part. I’ve already scheduled her for termination. She’s to be flushed out an airlock within the hour.”

  Dave whipped around and looked at her in horror. “Termination?” he exclaimed in protest. “Why? What did she do?”

  “She’s damaged, Mr. Samuels. You don’t have to look any further than that. I need a medic who can perform her duties. There are plenty of other officers waiting in the wings who aren’t suffering from a concussion.”

  “But that’s no reason to kill her! For chrissakes, she’s still a human being!”

  “No, Mr. Samuels, she’s a cog in the machine. A cog that now needs to be replaced. I would think that as a warrior yourself, you’d have developed an understanding of that.”

  “I don’t believe this,” he said. “For something as simple as a concussion, you’re ready to just throw someone’s life away? What kind of people are you?”

  “We are, in part, what your people have made us. We can’t afford to waste substantial effort on caring for those who are incapacitated. Your continued aggression against our world has forced us to adopt a more practical methodology. Say your goodbyes to her, Mr. Samuels. You’ve got one hour before someone comes to get her.”

  Dave wanted to believe she was bluffing, but he wasn’t about to take that chance. He’d witnessed enough in his brief time on the station to raise sufficient doubt in his mind. “Wait,” he pleaded. “Isn’t there something we can do? Some kind of arrangement we can work out?”

  “Are you offering to reveal some compelling information in exchange for saving her life, Mr. Samuels?”

  Dave threw his arms up in disgust. “Can’t you just talk to us?” he argued. “Would it be such a terrible thing for your people to engage in negotiations with us?”

  “What is there to negotiate?” she countered. “Would you consider surrendering control of your world? Would you just step aside and allow it to be conquered by someone you’ve been at war with for over a century? Do you really expect us to stand for that? Have you ever thought about this from our perspective?”

  Her arguments appeared to leave him off balance. It seemed that he was ruminating on her words, so she allowed him some time to collect his thoughts.

  “Look,” he said, “maybe it doesn’t have to be that way. Maybe we can reach some kind of agreement that doesn’t require you to give up control of your world. But as long as you refuse to talk with us, none of us will ever have a chance to find out. The fighting will just go on and on, and people on both sides will continue to die. All I’m asking is that you at least give it a chance. What have you got to lose by just talking?”

  The commander briefly considered his suggestion, then signaled her agreement with a cautious nod. “Alright then, let’s talk.” She looked him squarely in the eyes. “What do your people want from us?”

  “Uh, wait,” he said, “I think you may have misunderstood me. I’m not the person you need to talk to. You’ll have to speak with someone who has a little more authority than myself.”

  “And how would you suggest I do that, Mr. Samuels? I don't see anyone here but you.”

  “Well,” he said, “this is just a guess on my part, but I assume you have a radio transmitter on this station?”

  The commander stared at him while she made a decision, then walked to a nearby supply closet and returned with a pair of crutches in her hands. She held the crutches out to him and said, “Come with me, Lieutenant Samuels. You have a call to make.”

  * * * *

  Once the Cricket was under way, Robin tried to relax in her chair and allow herself some time to recover. The hum generated by the Cricket’s engines seemed to have a hypnotic effect on her. The layout of the bridge and familiar noises of its instruments overlapped with her memories of events on the Wallaby. After a while, she began to experience flashbacks which threatened to make her physically ill — the asteroid collision … the gaping hole in the ceiling … being pursued by enemy ships and fighters. Sheri lying wounded and bleeding on the floor. She felt as if she was almost on the verge of losing her grasp on reality. The only thing keeping her bearings straight was the one element that was different about this trip — the voices of Chrissy and Katrina discussing the auxiliaries console functions.

  As the minutes rolled by, Robin struggled to shut out the flashbacks and keep her mind focused on her current situation. She put so much effort into controlling her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice when Michelle called her name.

  “Robin, there’s something following us!”

  At first, the words sounded like a part of her flashbacks — distant and muted like a voice in a dream. But her memories didn’t recognize that exact phrase, and kicked her back into a coherent state of mind. “Can you tell what it is?” she asked.

  Michelle shook her head. Katrina rushed back to the systems console and checked for a signal from the unknown object. “Whatever it is,” she said, “it doesn’t have a Sentinel I.D. number.”

  Robin rubbed her head and tried to decide what she should do. “If it’s an enemy ship, we can’t let them keep following us.”

  “We’re gonna be coming up on Orion pretty soon,” Michelle said. “We need to do something before they find it.”

  Robin walked forward to Michelle’s console and looked at the scanner readings on her screen. The image showed four distinct points of significance: Orion, the Cricket, the unknown object, and the tip of Pangea that was farthest from Volaris.

  “Let’s head for the edge of Pangea,” she said. “If they follow us, we’ll try to lose them there. If they try to sneak past us, we might have to try to stop them. Mindy, contact Orion and tell them there might be an enemy ship out here.” She looked at the scanner image again. “Caroline, steer thirty–‌five degrees to starboard.”

  “Thirty–‌five degrees,” she echoed. The Cricket swerved toward its new destination.

  “Are they following us?” Robin asked.

  Michelle kept her eyes on the scanner for a moment. “Yep. They’re turning right along with us.” Her words sent a chill down the other girls’ spines. They now knew the ship was coming after them.

  “We’re gonna have to fight, aren’t we,” Chrissy said.

  Robin felt her heart sink when she saw the fear in Chrissy’s eyes. She suddenly recalled a vow she’d made in an earlier conversation with Katrina: “I’m not gonna let anything happen to her.” It was a vow she was still determined to keep. “Caroline,” she said, “as soon as we reach the edge of Pangea, start looking around for a place for us to hide.”

  “Robin,” Mindy said, “Orion says they’re sending help this way.”

  “I hope they get here soon,” Robin said. The scanner gave every indication that the enemy ship was closing in on them.
r />   * * * *

  Hours after the rout in the asteroid field, UEF fighters that had survived the assault continued to find their way back to the carriers. When Pogo returned to the Melbourne, following a lengthy and harrowing ordeal, he was greeted with a round of cheers and applause when he joined the other pilots who had gathered in the mess deck. It was the same for each and every pilot that returned — a collective display of relief that another of their comrades had managed to survive.

  “I see you guys all made it,” Pogo said as he sat down with Jay’s squadron at one of the tables.

  “Yeah,” Thomas confirmed, “but only just by the skin of our teeth. When they opened up on us in there, none of us saw it coming until it was too late. A few guys never even got a chance to react. What about your squadron? Still intact?”

  “Looks like it. I saw all of their fighters in the hangar.”

  “That’s good news,” Jay said. “We lost way too many in there. They had us like ducks in a shooting gallery.”

  “You’re tellin’ me!” Pogo said. “It felt like they had me surrounded for hours. I didn’t think I was ever going to make it out of there. They kept circling back and forth. A few them even stopped right in front of me. Hey, did you guys know they’re using some kind of cipher to conceal their communications?”

  “Well, ya don’t say!” Thomas replied sarcastically. “Yes, of course we know that. It’s no big secret. Everyone knows.”

  “Well, hasn’t anyone ever tried to break it?”

  Thomas laughed. “Absolutely. And tried, and tried, and tried, and tried. We’ve been trying to bust that cipher since ... forever!”

  “Do you think they’d let me have a crack at it?”

  Jay and Thomas exchanged a quick glance with each other.

  “Why,” Thomas said, “are you some kind of cipher expert?”

  Pogo shrugged. “Well, yeah, actually. It’s something I’ve been doing since I was a kid. I even won some achievement awards for it, back when I was in Junior High.”

  “No kidding,” Jay said, suddenly exhibiting a keen interest. “You think there’s a chance you could break this one for us?”

  “I don’t see why not. I’ve never come across one I couldn’t break before.”

  “Hold that thought,” Jay said, getting to his feet. He walked a short distance away, then returned a moment later with Commander Ingman at his side. “Commander,” he said, gesturing toward Pogo, “our new friend, Mr. Amarelli, here, apparently has a talent for cracking ciphers.”

  “Is that so,” the commander said, looking somewhat surprised.

  “I’ve been fairly successful at it in the past,” Pogo said.

  The commander appeared to be contemplating something. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “Come with me, Mr. Amarelli. You may have just drawn yourself a new assignment.”

  The commander led Pogo to a small room which apparently hadn’t been used in a while. He pulled a polymer tarp aside, revealing a dormant computer console and a workbench covered with electronic gadgets.

  “I should warn you,” the commander said, “that you’re far from being the first person to attempt this task. Hundreds of crewmen have labored untold hours trying to get a handle on this communications cipher. But so far, no one’s even come close. It’s managed to successfully frustrate them all to the point of eventually throwing in the towel.” He pointed to some of the clutter on the workbench: tools, components, soldering supplies. “Does it look like you have everything you need to do the job? It’s been a while now since anyone’s worked in here.”

  Pogo took a quick look at the equipment. “I think so. It’s enough to get started with, anyway.”

  “Good. Listen, I don’t want to put any undue pressure on you, but I think you can probably appreciate just how significant this could prove to be. Cracking this cipher could very well be the key to bringing an end to this war. And there’s a good chance things are going to escalate soon, so if you can pull this off, it could help save a lot of lives, both on our side, and on theirs. So please do us all an enormous favor, and find a way to crack this cipher.”

  Pogo nodded and sat down at the console. “Okay, I’ll give it my best.”

  “Good. Let me know if there’s anything else you need. You’re relieved of pilot duty until further notice.”

  The commander walked away, leaving Pogo alone with the collection of equipment. “Alright,” he said, powering up the console. “Let’s see what you’re made of, cipher.”

  * * * *

  Dave was somewhat taken by surprise when Commander Eldridge led him into the control room. It was undoubtedly one of the more sensitive parts of the station; and she didn’t seem like the type to be overly trusting.

  “Looks like the heart of your operations,” he said. “Are you sure you actually want to me to see this?”

  “Convince your people to stop fighting us, Mr. Samuels, and this will all become unnecessary. Step over here,” she said, pointing to Veronica’s station.

  “Hello again, Lieutenant,” he said, stepping to her side. “I guess I know where you work now.”

  Veronica seemed surprised to see him there, and looked to the commander for an explanation.

  “It’s alright, Lieutenant,” Commander Eldridge assured her. “I’ve decided it’s worth taking a chance on Mr. Samuels. I want you to find a radio frequency which is currently being used by enemy forces in this area.”

  Veronica dialed through a range of frequencies until she found one that seemed to be active. “It’s ready,” she said.

  Commander Eldridge pointed at the microphone. “It’s all yours, Mr. Samuels. Go ahead. Talk to them.”

  Dave leaned closer to the microphone. “Is the cipher off?” he asked Commander Eldridge.

  “What?” she asked.

  “The cipher,” he repeated.

  “What cipher? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The one that scrambles your voices,” he explained. “The one you’re using to disguise your communications from us.”

  “I’m not aware of any cipher, Mr. Samuels. Lieutenant,” she said, turning to Veronica, “do you know what he’s talking about?”

  Veronica looked up at her and shook her head. “I don’t know anything about a cipher, either. It was never mentioned in any of my training.”

  “Enter it as an inquiry,” the commander insisted.

  Veronica typed it into her console. “There’s nothing,” she said. “No reference at all to any kind of cipher.”

  “Well?” the commander said, waiting for an explanation from Dave.

  “Look,” he said, “I’m being completely honest with you. Your transmissions are encrypted with some kind of cipher. We can listen in on your conversations, but we can’t make out a single word you’re saying. And from what I understand, we’ve put a considerable amount of effort into trying to crack it. Unless we can turn that cipher off, there’s no way for us to communicate with them. All they’re going to hear is a bunch of gibberish.”

  Commander Eldridge crossed her arms and sighed in frustration. “Alright, Mr. Samuels,” she said, “since you seem to have a genuine interest in helping us, I’m going to give you an alternative solution. Our technicians have assured me they can repair your fighter. If you’re so sure your people are willing to negotiate, then take a message to them in person for me, asking them to meet us at a place of our choosing.”

  Dave could clearly hear the irritation in her voice, and sensed she was challenging him to accept her offer. He decided it was best not to try her patience, and answered her challenge with a counter offer. “I don’t seem to have anything to lose,” he said. “I’d be happy to deliver your message, Commander. Provided it buys a reprieve for Major Richards.”

  The commander nodded in acceptance. “Very well. Consider it done, then. I’ll let you know as soon as your fighter is ready. In the meantime, you can continue to keep the major company. Lieutenant Marx,” she said to Lindsey, “esco
rt Mr. Samuels back to the infirmary.”

  * * * *

  As the Cricket neared the edge of Pangea, Caroline slowed its forward progress and weaved her way around a few rocks. “Which way do you want me to go?” she asked.

  Robin looked at the scanner again and determined the enemy ship was still following them. “Let’s veer to the right,” she said. “We need to draw them away from Orion, or try to get behind them if we can.”

  Michelle overlaid a map on her display. “That puts us close to enemy space again.”

  “I know,” Robin said. “Chrissy, pan the surveillance scope around and see if you can find that ship. I want to know what’s following us.”

  Chrissy reached for the dial and turned it clockwise. The image slowly panned to the right.

  “There it is!” Phoebe yelled, pointing at the screen.

  “Stop there, Chrissy,” Robin said. “Now zoom in closer.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Below the toggle,” Katrina advised her.

  “Oh, I see it.” After several awkward attempts, Chrissy managed to zoom in on the ship.

  “It’s a destroyer,” Katrina observed.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Robin said. “You can’t hit a destroyer with a torpedo. Not if they know it’s coming, anyway. It would be almost impossible to line up a shot.”

  “Then why are they chasing us?” Phoebe asked.

  As Robin examined the ship, she noticed something unusual about its torpedo tubes. She ordered Chrissy to zoom in closer. When the image was enlarged a little further, it became apparent that only tubes three and four actually contained torpedo launchers. The other four were loaded to the gills with machine guns.

  “It’s been modified,” Katrina said. “But why?”

  “To hunt destroyers,” Robin surmised. “They must be trying to get rid of our patrol ships.”