by Jay Allan
“Keep working on it,” replied Mason, knowing that was all they could do. He was surprised that the people living in the tunnels were not doing more complaining. Then again, living on Earth was so much worse. “Use whatever people you need, even some of these. We have a number of well qualified people in the tunnels.”
“I know,” replied Davis, nodding his head in agreement.
Just the day before he had found several structural engineers living in this very tunnel. He had already transferred them to the work detail in the large habitat. It also allowed them to live in the small living area that had set up inside. While not very comfortable, it was much better than the crowded habitation tunnels.
-o0o-
An hour later, Mason was in the Control Center talking to Pamela Cairns and Drake Thomason about the current operations in progress. The Control Center was now monitoring the movement of all spacecraft in the solar system with the help of Luna City and Holbrook Station.
“I just finished speaking to Professor Scott at Mars Central,” Pamela reported as she turned away from her main control panel. “He’s finished the initial expansion of the base and says they can now take six thousand survivors.”
“That’s good,” Mason responded, pleased to hear the news. “Inform Professor Scott that we will start sending him eight hundred refugees a week as well as additional food supplies.”
“He says in another two months the new hydroponic domes will be completed and they should be able to grow their own food, though he says that meat will be in short supply.”
“That’s going to be true everywhere,” commented Drake, dolefully.
Fortunately, Smithfield had a large cattle herd as well as other domestic animals, but even those wouldn’t be enough for the large population they envisioned. Meat was going to have to be severely rationed for the foreseeable future until they could find a way to greatly expand the current food animal herds.
“We’re losing a lot of animal species,” Pamela said with sadness in her eyes. She was just thankful that Smithfield had such a large diversity of animals within the habitat. It was strange to think of all the animals that they would never see in the wild again; different species of colorful birds, butterflies, and thousands of other species that were now extinct or nearly so.
“At least we rescued a lot of animals from the zoos,” spoke Mason, knowing they had done everything they could.
It had been a hard decision to divert several cargo ships to pick up animals instead of people, but it had been decided that they needed to do everything they could to try to save as many different species as possible. Unfortunately, some of the larger animals such as whales and elephants could not be put on the lists as they were just too large to transport. Many of the more predatory species such as wolves and coyotes had also been banned.
“The population of Vesta has just passed the one hundred and eighty thousand mark,” added Drake, recalling the latest census numbers. “We have converted a lot of the outlying areas of the Smithfield habitat to farming, primarily vegetables. We are also trying to increase the size of our food animal herds. Lori has her hands full trying to keep all the new farms operating at peak efficiency. She’s requested that we bring some farmers and ranchers up from the survival camps to help. They might not be completely familiar with the techniques she is using to grow food, but they would be easier to train than some of those she’s been attempting to use. She said she caught one of them trying to milk a bull the other day.”
“I bet that was interesting,” said Mason, letting a smile spread across his face. “Contact Cheryl Robinson and have her find the people that Lori needs. Those farms right now have the utmost priority. We have a lot of food to raise if we want to feed all the survivors.”
“Luna City is also building agricultural domes,” Pamela informed them. “I spoke with Mayor Silas early this morning, and he is ordering ten new domes to be built just for the purpose of raising food. He is already having a hard time dealing with all the refugees and reports that some of the living conditions in the tunnels on the Moon are extremely bad.”
Mason nodded. They had so much to do, and every day more survivors on Earth were dying. They just didn’t have the engineering capacity to get everything done as quickly as needed. He knew they had to be careful or the fragile systems on the Moon and even here on Vesta could be overloaded and come crashing down. They had already been forced to reduce the number of survivors going up daily to Holbrook Station due to the limited space at Luna City and Vesta.
“If we need to, order Lawrence to suspend refugee flights until Luna City has their food domes finished,” he said with regret in his voice. “That might also give him the time he needs to get Luna City better organized. I don’t want to put the people we have already rescued at risk.”
Pamela nodded; it seemed that every day they were trying to solve another type of crisis. She turned back to her command console to begin sending messages. She would be glad when her shift was over and she could return home to her husband and son. At least being with her family allowed her to get away briefly from the tragedy still occurring on Earth.
“How’s Susan doing with Michael gone?” asked Drake, looking over at Mason.
“Aggravated,” replied Mason, with a heavy sigh. “Michael’s been gone for nearly three months since his last break, and Susan and the kids really miss him.”
“I can understand that,” Drake said. He knew that his wife Larcy and his daughter would feel the same way if he were gone for such an extended time.
“I’m ordering Michael back in a few more weeks,” Mason added with a slight smile.
“You’re ordering him back?” Drake said with surprise, his eyes narrowing. “I thought he still had another month of salvage operations before the Raven was due to return.”
“Change of plans,” Mason replied. He then turned and looked directly at Drake. “I’m giving him command of the Armageddon.”
Drake stepped back in astonishment. The Armageddon was the new battlecruiser being built in the spacedock by Ethan Hall and a number of military engineers. Construction was going on around the clock with expanded work crews as they raced to get the large warship completed. It would be the first spaceship ever built for war.
“Why, Michael? He doesn’t have any military experience.”
“No,” Mason replied in agreement. “For that matter, who does in space combat? However, Michael is the best pilot and ship captain we have. I have already spoken to General Wainright, and he has several naval and air force officers that will be coming to Vesta. We’ll assign the most qualified as Michael’s executive officer.”
“Susan won’t like this,” Drake warned in an even voice, shaking his head. “You’re going to make your sister highly upset when she learns what you’re doing.”
“I know,” answered Mason with a heavy sigh. “But this is a question of survival and Michael needs to command that ship; I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”
Mason turned his attention back to the screens on the wall. One of them was currently showing five large red icons floating in space a short distance from Vesta. The largest of the icons was the Phoenix and her four recently completed escorts. Soon ten updated prospecting ships would join them, and they would become the solar system’s first war fleet. Mason just hoped it was enough.
-o0o—
In space, the five hundred-meter Phoenix and her four escorts waited. Commander Sanders sat in the command chair with his executive officer, Colonel Whetworth, standing next to him. On the large tactical screen, four other green icons hovered in supporting positions around the battlecruiser. The four former cargo ships had gone through a major transformation, with most of their internal structures being ripped out and rebuilt. The now recently commissioned three hundred-meter support cruisers were armed with two large railguns in the bow and twelve additional heavy railguns on the hull. In addition, there were eight missile tubes equipped with MK Four high explosive missiles.
&nb
sp; “This new tactical screen is a marvel,” Commander Sanders spoke as he eyed it thoughtfully. The new screen was designed using the FTL communications technology and gave them real time information out to a range of nearly ten million kilometers. It would be extremely useful in a fight.
“How soon before the scout ships are finished?” asked Colonel Whetworth.
“A few more weeks,” Sanders replied. “The Armageddon will be finished two months after that.”
Colonel Whetworth nodded. With the ten scout ships armed with railguns it would allow them to better patrol the space around Vesta and Earth.
Commander Sanders leaned back in his command chair and let out a long breath. He just hoped the aliens didn’t show up again before the Armageddon was finished. At least with the addition of the Armageddon they might have a chance of driving the aliens off. The new battlecruiser had a heavily armored hull. New and more powerful railguns were being sent up from White Sands. The secret production facility at the test site was still operating and had designed an entire new line of railguns for the Armageddon. Sanders just hoped it would be enough.
CHAPTER 13
Lieutenant Nelson was standing in the Command Center of the Kleese assault ship W-274 alongside Captain Jenkins. Glancing over at the tactical screen, he saw a myriad of red threat icons rising from the planet ahead.
“They’re launching their fleet,” Jenkins said as he watched the numerous red icons form up above the planet.
“It is useless to attempt to stop an assault ship with the technology we have available,” Marken commented dryly as he ordered the ship’s course to be altered slightly. “From previous reports they have primitive laser weapons and light railguns on their spacecraft, nothing that can endanger one of our assault vessels.”
“Railguns?” Wade said with a frown. “We had railguns on some of our navy ships on Earth; I never thought about using them in space.”
“They would make an excellent space-based weapon,” Captain Jenkins informed Wade, recalling what he knew about them. “They fire a high density round and are extremely accurate. Several nations on Earth wanted to put a few in orbit to use against terrorist organizations. A round fired from space would be virtually undetectable until it nearly reached its target.”
“The Kleese have not used railguns in centuries,” Marken spoke as he watched his instruments and data screens carefully, noting the fleet’s formation.
There were one hundred and twenty assault ships in the fleet, all heavily armed and carrying Human soldiers. The world they were approaching had launched twenty-eight vessels to oppose them. Marken knew this would be a quick and extremely one-sided battle. Very few races had the technology to damage a Kleese constructed warship.
Lieutenant Nelson and Captain Jenkins had been told that this world was inhabited by an insectoid race. The beings upon the planet were very similar to Earth locusts with wings and very powerful arms and legs. Marken had explained to them that a Kleese exploratory ship had found the planet nearly two years in the past and they were only now getting around to bringing it into the Empire. Part of the problem had been the language barrier, as many insect races used a form of telepathy as well as scents and even body gestures to communicate.
“What do the Kleese want out of this race?” asked Wade, turning his attention toward Marken.
Marken hesitated for a moment before replying. Sometimes it was difficult to explain why the Kleese operated the way they did, particularly since the Kleese themselves were not a humanoid race. “This particular insectoid race is called the Wren and have begun to move out into space. They are capable of breeding in vast numbers and could spread out into the galaxy very rapidly. The Kleese do not want that to happen since there are a number of inhabited worlds they control nearby. The Wren also possess a highly developed science in entomology which may be useful to the Kleese.”
“What are our orders?” Captain Jenkins asked curiously. He also was wondering how the combat suits would hold up against this race of insects. From the briefing he had sat through earlier, he knew the Wren were extremely powerful with mandibles that could tear through most metals and arms that could tear a Human apart.
“The Kleese want all of the Wren’s facilities capable of building or launching a spacecraft destroyed,” answered Marken, knowing this would be the toughest battle for the Humans yet.
From his experience, most insect races were difficult to kill in battle. Many of the species he had previously encountered could be cut in half and the separate pieces would continue to fight. He was not pleased that the Humans would have to fight such a race. At least the soldiers under Captain Jenkins still had the Type Three battle suits.
“Ground them to their planet?” Wade responded with a heavy frown. It seemed as if the Kleese wanted to severely limit some race’s access to space.
“Yes,” confirmed Marken, noticing that the Wren fleet had broken orbit and was coming out to meet the inbound assault ships. “There are some insect races that are slow breeders, but the Wren are just the opposite. Their world is heavily populated, and their cities are very similar to hives. From the reports the Kleese have furnished us, their race is divided up into casts. The working casts, including their military, are considered expendable and easily replaced.”
“So we could be facing an army of thousands when we launch our attack,” mused Captain Jenkins with a look of deep concern. “Can the suits withstand attacks from such numbers?”
“We’re going to find out, aren’t we?” Marken replied as he noticed the Wren ships were almost within engagement range. “The biggest danger will be from the Wren themselves and not so much their weapons. They are extremely strong.”
In space, the one hundred and twenty assault ships were in a staggered formation twenty ships wide, three ships high, and two deep. All the ships were spaced three kilometers apart. On the hulls of the two hundred-meter ships, hatches slid open revealing missile tubes containing sublight antimatter missiles. Energy gun turrets rotated and locked upon the incoming Wren vessels.
“Weapons locked on,” reported the Kivean at Tactical, glancing back at Marken.
“Standby to fire,” responded Marken, folding his long arms across his chest. “Fusion beams first, followed up by a missile strike. We want to eliminate the Wern ships quickly so we can begin our troop landings.”
“The Wren are firing,” Skagern informed Marken as he saw several scanners record sudden power spikes in the Wren ships. Skagern was Marken’s second in command.
Wade felt the assault ship shudder as if had been struck by something, and several warning alarms went off in the Command Center. “What was that?” he asked Marken, seeing the surprised look upon the other Kivean’s face.
“Two railgun rounds struck our hull,” Skagern responded as he quickly checked for damage. “We have a pressure leak in zone four, section three; I am dispatching repair teams.”
“I thought the railguns were not a threat.” Captain Jenkins admonished as he saw one of the green icons representing a Kivean assault vessel vanish from the tactical screen. He knew that eighty Humans had just died on that ship.
“Did we just lose a ship?” asked Wade, glancing with concern at Marken. In all of their battles before, he had never seen one of the assault ships destroyed.
“Yes,” Marken replied, his eyes full of worry as he hurriedly checked his instruments and data screens. “The energy shield is not designed to withstand railgun rounds. However, the composite armor of our hull should have easily stopped them. Something is not right here.”
In space, the twenty-eight Wren ships continued to close. Each ship was one hundred and ten meters long and twenty meters wide. Unknown to the Kiveans, a massive railgun cannon ran down the center of each ship capable of firing a round of nearly ten thousand pounds.
Assault ship W-274 shuddered violently again as one of the large railgun rounds struck the ship just below the Command Center. Several Kiveans screamed out in pain as their consoles shor
ted out and the lights in the Command Center visibly dimmed. Several were thrown to the floor as smoke filled the air. Alarms sounded and red warning lights began flashing.
“All weapons, fire!” Marken screamed in terror, knowing his ship could not take another hit. Looking at the main tactical screen, he saw two more green icons blink out. The air circulation system was having a hard time clearing the smoke out of the Command Center, and several consoles were still on fire. Kiveans were rushing around trying to put out the fires and get a handle on the damage. “Turns those alarms and warning lights off!”
From the W-274, four bright blue fusion beams shot out, striking one of the Wren ships. The ship instantly lost power as the beams melted through the thin armor before striking the ship’s reactor. Two sublight antimatter missiles followed and the Wren ship vanished as it was consumed by the massive explosions. All up and down the Wren attacking fleet it was the same. Powerful fusion beams damaging or immobilizing their ships and then antimatter missiles finishing them off.
The Wren refused to back off and continued to fire their massive railgun cannons, sending round after round into the advancing Kivean ships. Three more assault ships exploded as the heavy rounds tore the ships apart. Ships fell out of formation as their panicked commanders tried to evade the Wren railgun rounds. However, others stayed in formation and continued to fire upon the Wren ships, destroying them one by one.
The Wren command ship was the last to go; it was slightly larger than the other Wren ships. It also had two of the massive railgun cannons and thicker armor on its hull. Two antimatter missiles struck it, carving massive glowing holes in its side. But even as it died it managed to take out two more of the Kivean assault ships with its deadly cannons before succumbing to heavy fusion beam fire.
Wade watched in horror, knowing that over six hundred Humans just died on the eight assault ships that had been destroyed. “We lost eight ships,” spoke Wade accusingly, looking at an ashen faced Marken. “If they would have had more ships we all could have died!”