by Linn Schwab
STARLIGHT
CAVALRY
Linn Schwab
Book #4 in the Sentinels saga.
The characters in this book are fictional.
Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by B. Linn Schwab
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced
or distributed in any manner without
permission from the publisher.
Mystic Winds Publishing
Kalamazoo, Michigan.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
RABBITS 095
BLUE SKIES 096
CHANGING TACTICS 097
MEADOW SONG 098
TANGLED WEB 099
SPECIES 100
TRACKERS 101
ESCORTS 102
SCOUTS 103
SAFARI 104
LIMBO 105
DWELLINGS 106
GATEWAY 107
SYMBIONTS 108
EXPEDITION 109
LEGENDS 110
CONVERGENCE 111
HARMONY 112
RANDOM FATES 113
VOICES 114
DEPARTURES 115
COMMANDS 116
GENESIS 117
RABBITS 095
Orders from Command normally came to Mason Wentzel by way of encrypted wireless transmissions. But in this case a message was arriving by courier, on a special shuttle dispatched from Cape Canaveral. That made him nervous. It meant only one thing. Someone was attempting to exert influence over him by sidestepping the usual chain of command. And with a rabbit due back at any minute, the arrival of this courier was perfectly timed to place him in a very uncomfortable position.
As he prepared to leave his quarters on Alpha platform, his wife intercepted him at the doorway, holding their four year old daughter, Lily, in her arms.
“So, who is this special courier?” Sondra asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mason said. “The call didn’t say. Someone sent up here by Congress, most likely.”
“Is he here about the rabbit?”
“That would be my guess.”
“Can I see the rabbit this time?” Lily asked.
Mason chuckled and touched her on the cheek. “They aren’t really rabbits, sweetheart,” he explained. “We just call them that because they hop back and forth between solar systems. That’s how we keep in touch with the Marco Polo’s crew. It’s how they send messages back to their families.”
“What do you suppose they want?” Sondra asked, shifting the topic back to Congress.
Mason shrugged. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’m not going to like it. They wouldn’t bother sending someone up here just to whisper in my ear. It’s pretty clear their intention is to twist my arm. If they decide it’s necessary.”
Sondra gave him a look of concern. “And just what exactly would make it necessary?”
He answered her question as he stepped through the doorway, in order to avoid a prolonged discussion. “If they try to overrule my existing orders.” He could sense his wife’s unease in her silence, but she made no attempt to argue with him.
As he made his way down to the lower levels where the shuttle docking bay was located, Mason ran through the station’s history in his head, recalling the events leading up to this moment.
Remembered by most as the historic launch point of the ESS David Livingstone, Alpha platform remained in use to this day, after more than three centuries of updates and refinements. In the months directly following the Livingstone’s theft, plans were laid out for construction of a replacement vessel. But the hull of that ship was only partially completed when the project came to a premature halt as a result of disagreements between some of the investors.
In the wake of that fiasco, exploration continued, but only with mining operations in mind. Numerous ships had ventured to the asteroid belt, but never into interstellar space again. That is, not until a transmission was received that kicked off construction of the Marco Polo. And now, only three and a half years later, the Marco Polo was presumed to have reached its destination. The ship’s most recent transmission via rabbit projected it would arrive there sometime today. And while the whole world stood by, breathlessly awaiting confirmation, Mason feared he would soon be placed in the hot seat, in a tug of war over control of the transmission.
His suspicion was confirmed when the courier arrived, and greeted him as, “Captain Mason Wentzel.”
The jig is up, he realized right away. She knows I’m military. This should be interesting.
“Julia Rosano,” the woman said, introducing herself. “I was told you were expecting me.”
“Well, not exactly you,” Mason admitted, discreetly conveying his surprise to see a woman. He shook hands with her and welcomed her to Alpha platform. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he asked, as both of them stepped onto an empty elevator.
“I’m here at the request of Congress,” she informed him.
“I figured as much. But to what end?”
“You’re expecting a transmission from the Marco Polo.”
“And?” he replied.
The elevator stopped and opened up for them. They walked out into the control room together. She looked him directly in the eyes and insisted, “You are not to impose any delay on that signal. Your instructions are to broadcast it live to the entire planet.”
Mason sighed and shook his head. This was not what he wanted to hear.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss Rosano,” he told her. “I have orders to withhold this transmission until my superiors decide to release it. And since you seem to have some idea who I am, I’m sure you can deduce who my superiors are.”
“I know all about your cover as a civilian,” she told him. “Do I need to remind you that your superiors answer to Congress?”
“My superiors have reasons for withholding this,” Mason argued.
“And my superiors have reasons for overruling them. There’s a lot of suspicion surrounding this mission, Captain Wentzel. And an awful lot is riding on its eventual outcome. For example, take a look outside there and tell me what you see.” She pointed toward the control room windows.
In the distance, Mason could see two other stations, and two massive spaceships under construction. One of the ships belonged to Voorling Worldwide Industries, and the other belonged to a newly formed group of investors who were hoping to cash in on commerce between the two planets. Both were being outfitted for cargo and passengers, but neither of them was yet complete.
“The Sky Queen and the Matilda,” he answered, referring to both of the ships by name.
“Precisely. Both of which represent enormous investments, and enormous risks to their respective owners. Now imagine the considerable advantage one might gain by securing access to this transmission before anyone else. You could buy or sell stakes in both of those projects—”
“—and you’d be found out immediately,” Mason interrupted her. “Any trades of that nature would be blatantly apparent, and subject to the full prosecution of the law. I assure you, Miss Rosano, this has nothing to do with insider trading.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But certain groups of investors are not convinced, and they’ve lobbied Congress to intervene on their behalf. To be more specific, various competitors of Practical Solutions are concerned the company may be using its influence to gain an unfair advantage over them. So, in order to ensure that all parties have equal access, a decision has been made that there will not be any delay on this transmission … Captain Wentzel. When it arrives, you’re to beam it straight down to the surfa
ce as soon as the decryption process is complete.”
“Very well,” Mason relented, then instructed his controllers to comply with her demands. An hour later, he was standing at her side when the rabbit’s transmission arrived at the station. The signal was broadcast, just as she’d insisted, and everyone on Earth heard the same chilling distress call:
—“Alpha Station, this is the Marco Polo! We’re under attack! I repeat, we’re under attack!”
Cries of panic could be heard amidst the sounds of general chaos, and then:
—“Oh god … I don’t think we’re gonna make it!”
The message concluded with the sounds of a collision, followed by an empty, unnerving silence.
When the transmission ended, Mason looked out through the windows at the Sky Queen and Matilda floating in the distance.
“Your investors won’t be happy,” he said to Miss Rosano, electing to ignore the stunned look on her face. “I’d say it’s a safe bet that by this time tomorrow, both of those ships will have military names.”
BLUE SKIES 096
>>
Karl felt a tingle run along his spine as he nosed his fighter into the planet’s upper atmosphere. Somehow he’d made it past the enemy defenses without a single missile being fired in his direction. As he marveled at the beauty of the glowing sphere below him, it occurred to him that he might be the first to make it through — the first Earthling to set foot on this planet in ages. Perhaps the first since the crew of the Livingstone themselves. Or in any case, the first since the Marco Polo had arrived. And that had been nearly two centuries ago.
What a privilege, he thought, to have this opportunity. To actually see this planet with my own eyes. The spirit of adventure began stirring inside him. Or perhaps it was just an adrenaline rush. This must be what it felt like for the vikings, he realized. Or any number of other ancient explorers upon arriving in unfamiliar lands. Exciting and exotic. Alluring and mysterious. What wonders could he expect to find on the surface…
The skies of this world were a pristine blue, unspoiled by the dull gray haze of industry. The lands were a veritable rainbow of greens — the oceans, a captivating palette of hues, ranging from turquoise to aquamarine, and sapphire blue to opal deep.
As Karl descended past a layer of white clouds, he set his sights on a large continent near what he guessed was the planet’s equator. In the hope of avoiding any contact with the enemy, he kept an eye out for cities but saw no sign of them. No cities, no highways, no railroads or canals. In fact no sign at all of the influence of man. No patchwork of row crops, or orchards, or wheat fields. The entire continent seemed completely left open to nature. That made it ideal for what Karl had in mind. He could not have wished for anything better.
After a quick sweep across the center of the continent, Karl steered his fighter toward a coastline in the east. He set the autopilot, as Jay had suggested, then steadied himself for the force of ejection and sudden blast of wind he knew would soon follow.
“It’s now or never,” he whispered to himself as his fighter drew closer and closer to the coastline. He placed his hands on the lever, but his courage faltered. A quick countdown might steel his resolve, he decided.
“Three … two … one …”
He took a deep breath and pulled.
The last sound he heard was the roar of rocket engines, drowning out the howling of rampaging air.
CHANGING TACTICS 097
From the captain’s chair, Caroline stared out the window at the enemy starbase floating in the distance. Not a starbase, she told herself. A city in space. Just one of many she knew were hiding out here in the depths of the cloud that had swallowed Valhalla. There were men on that starbase. And women, and children. Infants and toddlers in nurseries as well. She felt pity for them, but her job was to kill them. Just as she’d killed so many before.
How many starbases had she attacked now? She’d lost track of the count. Was it twelve or thirteen? And not a soul left alive among her many victims. Her torpedoes had left a trail of death and destruction unmatched by any captain in the Sentinel Fleet.
She was thankful Commander Eldridge had taken Robin, and spared her from the heartless task of killing. Her own heart was tainted with a heavy darkness now, that seemed to match the color scheme of her new uniform — black, with only traces of the once familiar green; a reminder that her training had been cut short by the sudden need to press younger girls into service. Any vestiges of innocence were long since behind her. She’d proven herself a warrior in the cauldron of combat.
Thirteen, she remembered now. That was how many. A starbase destroyed for each year of her life. Could she do it again? She gathered her resolve.
“Prepare for battle!” she ordered her crew. “Open the outer torpedo tube doors! Set the rocket spread to medium dispersal!”
The words flew off her lips like they were coded into her DNA. What am I? she wondered. Some kind of machine? A robot made out of living flesh, simply following a set of embedded instructions? The thought that her actions might not be of her own choosing left her momentarily conflicted. But this is why I was created, she reminded herself. All things have a purpose — and this is mine. I was destined to command a Sentinel destroyer. I was never intended to choose my own path.
“Take us in, Phoebe,” she ordered her pilot. “Head straight for that armored belt across the midpoint.”
Phoebe eased the throttle forward, and the Python’s engines roared in response. This was Caroline’s third destroyer — the first two having both suffered major damage due to her risky attack maneuvers. “You’re getting too close to your targets,” she’d been warned. But the results of her tactics were hard to ignore. She was the queen of destroyer combat, and command seemed to realize they were wise to leave her be.
“Ready on torpedoes!” Caroline ordered.
“Ready on torpedoes!” Chrissy echoed. Still too short to reach the ship’s firing controls, she was kneeling on the weapons console chair, with her right hand firmly wrapped around the trigger, and her left on the dial of tube number one. It wasn’t the ideal combat situation, but Caroline could only work with what she had at her disposal. She needed Phoebe at pilot right now, so someone had to replace her at weapons. It couldn’t be Michelle because she was navigations, and Mindy was needed at communications. And it couldn’t be Katrina because she was at systems, filling in for Sheri, who just wasn’t acting normal.
Suddenly reminded of Sheri’s odd behavior, she turned toward the auxiliaries chair and found it empty. “Oh, no,” she muttered, then yelled, “Sheri, where are you!”
“I’m in the garden!” Sheri yelled back.
Caroline leapt to her feet in concern. What Sheri often referred to as “the garden” was actually the Python’s circuit breaker center. For some reason it held a certain fascination for her now. But it was not a safe place for her to be during combat.
“We’re going into combat,” Caroline yelled. “I need you at your position, Sheri!” She fixed her eyes on the targeting display. The alignment was just a little off center. “Point four degrees to port!” she ordered.
Sheri ran past her and plopped down in her seat.
“Point four degrees to port,” Phoebe answered. The Python’s nose edged leftward a little, securing its victim in an even tighter death grip.
The numbers on the targeting display continued to climb until Caroline decided she was well within range. “FIRE ONE!” she ordered.
“FIRE ONE!” Chrissy echoed.
Sheri gasped and yelled, “Enemy fighters!”
“There’s nothing on the radar,” Katrina informed her.
Caroline ignored them and yelled, “FIRE TWO!”
Chrissy echoed her order again.
“I know they’re out there,” Sheri insisted.
“I don’t see them either,” Michelle announced.
The two torpedoes detonated on the station. Phoebe changed course to avoid their carnage.
“Set up
for another run!” Caroline ordered. The station was still far from destroyed at this point.
“What about the fighters?” Sheri complained.
“There aren’t any fighters!” Katrina shot back.
Caroline was ready to strangle both of them. “Where do you see fighters, Sheri?” she demanded.
“I don’t see them,” she said, “I just know they’re out there.”
“There’s nothing on the radar,” Katrina repeated.
“Closing on the target,” Phoebe announced.
Caroline looked at the targeting display and selected a weakened portion of the station. “Aim for that buckling support,” she told Phoebe. “Maybe we can break off a chunk of the structure.”
A rocket suddenly impacted on the hull, causing the Python to shudder violently.
“Where did that come from?” Caroline demanded.
“Enemy fighters closing in from behind,” Michelle answered.
Caroline looked up at the rear view monitor and decided the fighters were still out of range. “Stay on target,” she said to Phoebe. “That first rocket was just a lucky shot.” She watched the targeting numbers again, and yelled “FIRE THREE!” when they came into range.
“FIRE THREE!” Chrissy responded, and sent torpedo number three on its way.
A wave of rockets struck the Python from behind, sending it into a slow flat spin. Torpedo number three connected with the station, resulting in a devastating explosion, which swallowed the Python, enshrouding it in smoke.
When the remnants of the explosion began to clear, the Python was adrift in a sea of debris, her engines on the verge of sputtering out. The enemy fighters were waiting in the distance for a chance to move in and slay the serpent. As Caroline gazed out the forward windows, a severed segment of the station drifted by, with compartments that still contained atmosphere. She saw a group of young children standing at a window, staring back at her with frightened looks on their faces as a crack worked its way across the center of the glass.
“No!” she cried with tears forming in both eyes. Never before had she actually had to see her victims. The glass gave way, and the children spilled outward, their tortured bodies tumbling toward the Python’s forward windows…
“Caroline, are you alright?” Robin asked.