EARTH'S LAST WAR (CHILDREN OF DESTINY Book 1)

by Glenn Van Dyke

  Seconds later, “Laser safety perimeter cleared,” announced Gena.

  “Bring the mains on line.” The mains ignited and with a light push on the throttle Ashlyn’s fighter darted ahead, away from the shimmering, orange water and into a blackness that was deeper than the darkest night.

  “Gena, at full throttle, what’s our time to maximum targeting range?”

  “Approximately, four minutes, thirty-five seconds,” came the instant reply.

  “Time until the missile enters the atmosphere?” Ashlyn asked.

  “Five minutes and forty seconds.”

  “Sea Base, this is Jackson. I’m going with Foxy Lady. She needs a wing-man!” he said while punching his Sharkfin’s thrusters.

  Overhearing his call, Ash eased up on the throttle. A glance at her radar screen told her that he was coming up fast on her port side. Pulling alongside, he flashed his port-floods.

  “Guess I’m not the smartest monkey in the zoo,” said Jackson over the ship-to-ship comm.

  “Maybe, but I think Darwin would be awfully proud of his little primate right now,” said Ashlyn just as a series of strong jolts jostled both their craft. “Thanks, Jackson. Glad to have the company. Hold onto your hat, topside readouts show the wind shears are topping 830 knots. It’s going to be gut-wrenching.”

  “Damn straight! My Sharkfin’s already bucking like a thirty year-old virgin getting her first screw!”

  “As if you knew anything about virgins!” said Ash mockingly while studying her readouts.

  “It’s not my fault you’re the last martyr on Earth. I would be happy to fix that little problem for you though!” said Jackson with more seriousness than jest.

  “Remind me to break Victor’s arm for letting that bit of information out! There’s this little thing called doctor-patient confidentiality.”

  “Parker, I have to fess up. It wasn’t Victor. Your file was open on his computer when I went into his office a few weeks back,” replied Jackson, sheepishly.

  “It was you who let it out?”

  “Kinda, sorta, yeah. I mean, who could have guessed that a woman who looks like you, was still a virgin. Shit, you’re rarer than an albino elephant!”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll have to break your arm then. We’ll have to discuss it later, time to focus. Prepare for air-flight in 4—3—2—1—,” said Ashlyn, happy to have good cause for forcing the conversation back to the mission.

  The two fighters burst from the ocean unto a world of charcoal gray plumage and thickly churning clouds of tornadic waterspouts, hail and lightning. The sight was dark and foreboding.

  In bold contrast, the lasers below were giving them a spectacular sendoff, pulverizing red, orange, yellow and sometimes blue-green meteors far above them. It was a fireworks display befitting Zeus.

  The lasers garner their energy from a set of massive cold-fusion thermal reactors, which sit atop nearly thirteen square kilometers of deeply cored, thermal vents, twenty-six kilometers south of Sea Base. Originally, each of the three, quad-laser units had been attached to a Claw, a giant computerized mobile tractor and self-contained refinery. The automated platforms wandered the ocean floor, forever in search of raw minerals to be used in the building, construction and continued maintenance of the underwater colony.

  For the last fourteen years however, they had sat silently waiting for the day when they would protect the Challenger Deep Sea Base from the after-effects of Project Terminus.

  “You were right, average wind velocity is 450 knots up here, and I’m showing shears of nearly double that,” said Jackson incredulously. “The Moon’s explosion sure stirred up the hornet’s nest.”

  Jackson’s words were a superlative understatement. Before the orbiting cameras had gone off-line, everyone at Sea Base had stared in stunned silence, marveling at the sheer immensity of the explosion that had inundated the ships of the enemy fleet.

  “All right, kill your floods. Set your shields to maximum power, auto-heat compensation. We’ll maintain-” Ashlyn’s voice broke off as she took note of a low, rumbling sound. Glancing to her right, she saw a massive wall of water racing across the ocean’s surface toward them. “Jackson, disengage your safety protocols and go to full boost, now! Roll 40 degrees to port,” screamed Ashlyn over the comm.

  Jackson disengaged the safety and hit the boosters as Ashlyn had ordered. The alarm in her voice was damned scary.

  The two fighters had exited the ocean from deep within a trough of towering walls of water and it was going to be close, very close.

  “Hot-diggity-damn! Now that’s a tidal wave,” said Jackson.

  To their right, less than fifteen hundred meters away was a mountainous wave racing toward them at hundreds of kilometers per hour.

  With the safety protocols removed, the fighters pushed deep into the redline limits of their engines. The engines roared as flames shot more than a hundred meters behind them. The wave grew closer with each passing millisecond until the curling edge of the wave was looming above Ashlyn like the blade of a sharpened sickle readying to strike.

  Ashlyn’s genetically enhanced abilities kicked in, perceptually slowing time and the speed of movement of everything around her. To her right, she watched the warm, orange, glowing reflections of the laser bursts that were filling the sky as the wave twisted and distorted them into a kaleidoscope of unearthly apparitions. She found it to be as intriguing as it was beautiful.

  A frothy foam that was leading the overhanging curl of the wave began pelting her shields, belying the power that was pushing it along. As Ashlyn cut through the foam, just escaping the curl, flying in her wake like a baby whale cow following its mother’s lead, was Jackson. His engine sputtered noticeably as his fighter cut through the froth then came back to full power as his craft burst into the clear. The body of the wave cut across his trailing wash just inches below the wing and tail mounted engines.

  ***

  “What’s holding up that analysis, Casey?” said Steven anxiously.

  “I can’t get a detailed read on it, sir. There is too much interference emanating from the debris field of the alien fleet. It’s scrambling the scans.”

  “Two hundred kilometers, mark!” said Mr. O’Brien. Following Steven’s instructions, “Launching Intercepts!”

  “Sir, I’ve got an enemy fighter exiting from the field!” said radar.

  “A fighter? Is he within laser range?” asked Steven.

  “No, sir. He’s moving away from us. Looks like he is altering course to provide cover for the missile,” answered radar.

  “Casey, reprogram the first three Intercepts to target the fighter!”

  ***

  “Yeehaw, Avenger has launched Intercepts!” Jackson ballyhooed in typical high-flying cowboy fashion. “Looks like we can take these puppies back to the pound.” Even before the words had fully left his mouth, “Damn, Parker, on your radar, ten o’clock! I have an enemy fighter. If he isn’t the luckiest son-of-an-alien-bastard I ever saw!”

  “I see him. He’s changing vector to intercept the missile. Looks like he’s planning to ride shotgun. He’ll pick-off Avenger’s Intercepts as they come in. Hate to say it, but we still have a job to do.

  Leaving laser protection grid in 30 seconds, mark,” said Ashlyn. “Prepare to follow my lead. Set the scoop to forward-wide. Laser to full power, 30-degree rotational spread, maximum firing rate. Avoid the big ones; let the laser take care of the small ones. We’ll clear-cut a path for ourselves.”

  “Copy, scoop to forward-wide. Laser to full power, 30-degree rotational spread. Maximum firing rate. You do know that’s going to put a huge drain on our reserves!” he shot back.

  “If we last long enough to drain our cores dry, I’ll be as happy as a dog with a belly full of beer at a hydrant factory!” said Ash as she finished flipping through the displays.

  “Aye!” And now that she had brought it to his attention, Jackson evacuated himself into his suit’s bio-bag.

  From the nose-mounte
d lasers on their Sharkfins, they ran the gauntlet. In rapid-fire succession, each of their lasers blazed, cutting down the debris in front of them. It was impressive, to say the least.

  “Ok, Jackson. Here is where the ride gets exciting! Prepare for a sustained heavy G climb. Have your med unit inject a B1 stimulant. I don’t need you blacking out on me.”

  “Hey Parker, 9 o’clock!”

  Outside the grid, for as far as the eye could see, hundreds of meteors were pelting the ocean. Massive sweeping rings of water were racing away from each impact. Plumes of super-heated steam were rising thousands of meters into the air where it was feathering the wildly churning clouds above. Within the clouds, an electrical storm raged.

  “Prom time,” said Ashlyn. “When we enter the cloud cover, we’re going to lose ship to ship visual for a bit, so set your collision sensors to maintain a 40 meter minimum distance between us—and don’t forget to set your engine intake shielding to maximum.”

  “Setting collision sensors to 40 meters, intake shielding to maximum,” he parroted while flipping toggles.

  “Here we go, 3—2—1—.” Ashlyn pulled on the yoke bringing her Sharkfin’s nose up sharply. With the Earth falling away behind them, Ashlyn bobbed and dipped, weaving her way through the massive onslaught of incoming debris. “Entering cloud cover, losing ship to ship visual.”

  “I don’t know how you stay so calm, Ashlyn!” said Jackson as his ship jostled from another hit to the dampening field.

  “It’s not about staying calm. It’s about staying in control.” Seconds later as they cleared the turbulent cloud layer, “Tighten the formation to 30 meters. The lasers will be more effective and the shields will stay cooler,” said Ashlyn.

  “I’m already crapping in my pants over here—my shields are nearing the red line. Hull integrity has deteriorated by 67 percent. The internal pressure is just too much. When we hit zero g, kaboom.”

  “Stay with me, Jackson. In 40 seconds we’ll be within laser range.”

  Without needing to glance at her readouts, Ashlyn knew that her own shields were also weakening. They had gone from their typical ultra-light blue to its present color of dirty gray as they cast a faint sheen upon her field of vision. It was a silent but ominous warning to the few remaining seconds of time for which they would continue to hold.

  ***

  Casey, staring into her monitor: “Our first missile is closing on the fighter!—3—2—1—contact.” After a brief pause, “The fighter’s shields have weakened, but they’re still holding.

  Sir, their missile, it has weapons!” said Casey in disbelief. “They’ve just been activated.”

  “Weapons? What type?” asked Commander Leslie Brooks, Steven’s First in command.

  “It appears to be two small laser turrets, one above, one below,” responded Casey.

  They had not encountered the technology before. As it was, the use of eight valuable Intercepts had already seemed grossly excessive, even to stop a doomsday missile. Now, Steven’s assumption was threatening to condemn his soul to eternal damnation.

  “The fighter is firing lasers. Intercept 2 destroyed. Intercept 3 is locked on. Enemy fighter is executing evasive. She dodged the Intercept! Intercept has maintained a lock and is pursuing! The fighter is rotating, Intercept closing—yes! Fighter destroyed, sir.”

  It was a victory without celebration as their attention turned to the Intercepts, which were closing on the missile.

  “Intercept 4 is locked on.” His pursed lips changed to a sullen frown. “Intercept 4 has been destroyed! Intercepts 5 and 6 are closing—Intercepts 5 and 6 have been destroyed!” said Casey.

  “Those laser turrets are damned accurate!” said Brooks, voicing all their thoughts aloud.

  “Our last two Intercepts are now arriving,” said Casey.

  Steven eyes were wide, not daring to blink. His mouth was dry.

  “Sir—all of our Intercepts have been destroyed. 39 seconds until the missile hits atmosphere,” said Casey with an eerily dead voice.

  “Mr. O’Brien, you’ve got to hit it with the laser! You’ve got to!”

  The Lieutenant’s eyes were pinned to the targeting grid. Unable to achieve a solid lock under the extreme distance, he took shot after shot. The seconds ticked away with alarming speed. The hope Steven held in his heart began to wane. If his wife and children died, he was sure the last tenuous thread to his sanity would be broken—and if Ashlyn died-

  ***

  “Hot-diggity-dog—Avenger cleared the rooster out of the hen house.” No sooner had Jackson uttered the enthusiastic words than, “I’ve been hit! I’ve been hit! Son of a bitch! Shields super heating, 16 percent over critical and climbing. Cockpit integrity is at 4 percent and falling.”

  “Turn back!” shouted Ashlyn—as she watched Jackson sheer away, a hefty rocketing white-hot rock struck his left wing, snapping it in two and sending him into a high-g tumble.

  “I’ve got no response—repeat, no response from stabilizers. Cockpit integrity is at 1 percent. Shields collapsing!

  Dammit, I would have given you one hell of a night to remember Foxy Lady! One ride on the Jackson express, and forever you’d be saying that I was the best!” His voice cracked, not from his resignation to dying, but from his disappointment over never having slept with Ashlyn.

  Her comm went silent as Jackson’s highly pressurized containment field collapsed and his ship exploded. Ashlyn’s steely eyes softened, “God speed, my friend. God speed.”

  Ashlyn’s view of space suddenly sharpened into crystal clarity, revealing a spectacular sight of brilliantly flickering stars. The real showpiece though belonged to the millions of chunks of Moon debris. Fragments of all sizes lay before her like a minefield, forcing her to wiggle her way around and between them. Most were inward bound, being slowly drawn into the atmosphere by Earth’s gravity. If it had not been for the dire situation, she would have actually enjoyed the thrill of racing around them.

  A moment later, she was weightless. With the loss of gravity, Ashlyn’s silver necklace, with its blue-stoned locket began to rise. Clutching it tightly in the palm of her left-hand, she drew it to her heart.

  Ashlyn’s Sharkfin jerked sharply to starboard as a baseball-sized meteor took a bite out of her right wing’s airfoil. As she was testing the wing’s hydraulics, the computer announced that her cockpit integrity had fallen to 4 percent. The cast about her ship began to dissipate. Dust and pebbles began to impact with the canopy.

  “Gena, isolate my laser targeting, helm, and weapon’s control. Divert all remaining power, including that of life-support and engine intake shielding to the cockpit containment shield.”

  Whisper-quiet, as per her instructions, systems throughout her craft began going dark, until even the faint breeze of circulating air stilled.

  “Gena, initiate eye-synchronous targeting grid.” A black, background holo-screen came to life with a luminously, green grid. The computer read the movement in her eyes, and zoomed in upon grid 3B. “Magnify and enhance target 01M, level 32 zoom and lock focus.” Instantly, the computer homed in on the missile, enhancing it across the full spectrum of humanly seeable light. To Ashlyn it appeared as a three-dimensional object that seemingly sat within arm’s reach. Only her sim training kept her from thinking she could reach out and touch it.

  Already second nature to her, Ashlyn quickly thumbed through the targeting selections. Her chosen settings: eye-synchronous targeting; pinpoint beam; maximum power. Her eyes narrowed, “Hope you’re watching, Jackson.”

  Pressing the red fire-button on the yoke, a half-inch wide, sizzling, white-orange laser beam shot outwards from her Sharkfin’s nose mounted cannon. The beam sliced through a million particles of dust and with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, it struck to the heart, piercing the missile’s casing and striking the energy core. The missile’s incendiary payload exploded, lighting up a half-million square kilometers of space like an exploding sun.

  Though her helmet’s
light filter tried to compensate, the pure white-light blinded her instantly. Ashlyn gasped, nearly fainting as the shock to the optic nerve sent stabbing pains shooting through her skull. “Gena, inject a level 2 pain inhibitor.”

  The pinprick to the back of her neck was lost amid the jarring jolts and jostles racking her fighter. As she fought through the subsiding pain, her right hand gripping the yoke, Ashlyn simulated the feel of a 180-degree turn and began the descent into the unseen void beneath her. It was then, that her unshielded engine sucked in a piece of Moon debris and exploded. An ironically pleasant chime heralding the engine’s loss.

  Another explosion rocked her craft and again another chime accompanied the explosion.

  Unbeknownst to her, amid the jostles, a chunk of rock had struck her Sharkfin’s tail fin, snapping off its upper section and cutting its internally hidden comm antenna in half. With shreds of frayed steel and carbon-fiberglass resin flailing behind her, Ash re-entered the upper atmosphere. Though her hand was steady, her badly damaged Sharkfin was handling like a newborn giraffe trying to find its legs on a sheet of ice.

  ***

  Seeing the missile explode, the bridge crew of Avenger jumped out of their seats, giving a hearty round of cheers and whistles.

  “The missile was destroyed 14 seconds before atmospheric entry,” Casey called out.

  Steven collapsed in his chair as the release of stress whisked away the energy from his legs—his white-knuckled fingers flexing as he felt the tingle of returning blood. “Good shot Mr. O’Brien!”