by Andrew Mack
The Control Tower Commander was still trying to process everything when she heard the shot from the F-81. “Watch Deck, we got a visual on Alpha deck. One unidentified attack fighter. AuFa F-81’s have engaged. How long before we can get support fighters up?”
AuFa Watch Deck responded, “Stand by.”
The two F-81’s kept chasing the black attack fighter. In what can only be described as brilliant flying, the blood-red helmet Pilot used the Port as a shield, flowing in and out of it until it had maneuvered behind the F-81’s chasing him. Now engaged, he took a shot and missed. The two F-81 pilots were stunned. One shouted to the other on the intercom, “Split up.”
The F-81’s split up. The pilot with the blood-red helmet kept flying his small black attack fighter in tight circles around the docks, narrowly missing them. He tightened up the distance of the one F-81 he was chasing. The other F-81 circled around and now saw the small black attack fighter chasing the other F-81. He closed in behind the chase and focused on the attack fighter. Just as he was shooting, the black attack fighter inverted the other way, circling 360 degrees. The F-81 pilot whispered, “What the….”
The pilot with the blood-red helmet completed a full inverted figure-8, and as it came back across from the side, it shot right at the F-81 pilot that had just shot at him. Hitting the engines, the F-81 fell into a death spiral towards the atmosphere.
At the Control Tower, the speaker barked out, “Deck Commander, two minutes on the support fighters.”
The Commander shouted back, “This isn’t gonna last one minute.”
The other F-81 began circling as he spoke into his intercom “Tower Commander, I’ve lost visual, any site of the attacker?”
The people in the Command Tower kept looking. The F-81 pilot kept looking around, and he could not see him. The F-81 pilot began to fly in a very slow circle around the Commander Tower, looking out around the Port, trying to find anything, but there was nothing. The pilot whispered, “Where did he go?”
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. The small black attack fighter hovered directly above the Control Tower, turning with the F-81, preventing anyone from inside the tower to view it. The female Tower Commander spoke on the intercom “ One minute on support fighters, no visual anyone?”
The F-81 pilot stopped his circling and pointed its guns towards the small black attack fighter, but he knew it was too late. He whispered, “Oh shit…”
The guns from the attack fighter opened on the F-81 and obliterated it. There was a silence in the Control Tower as everyone just watched the F-81 explode in front of their eyes. The Pilot with the blood-red helmet slowly moved his small black attack fighter down from the hover position and pointed his guns at the Control Tower so everyone could see. There was a hush in the room. A deafening silence, as the black attack fighter just hovered, guns aimed at point-blank range. It seemed like minutes but was only about ten seconds. The pilot spun the attack fighter around, and accelerated away, back towards the cargo ship.
His speed increased. It was possible those support fighters would try to chase him once they were out of the Port, but more likely, they would stay and defend. He quickly made it to the Transport ship and followed the lights inside the cargo bay door. As soon as the small black attack fighter was inside, the cargo door bays closed, and then another set of doors closed behind the cargo bay doors. The pilot landed the attack fighter, and almost immediately, the giant Transport ship accelerated away. After a moment, the ship gained enough speed to get away in Hyper-EXtension speed.
The pilot in the blood-red helmet climbed out of the attack fighter and jumped down. He walked over to a flight of stairs that led to the cockpit area of the transport ship. Once there, he went off to the side and began typing a message:
‘Contact not at the location. Contact was NOT terminated. Minimal collateral damage. Await orders.”
He immediately joined his crew from the Captain’s chair, never taking his helmet off.
Belinea 1.14
Earth, Northeast Japan
Delegate & Ambassador Guard Headquarters
Director Kimakawa was sitting at his desk, drinking a hot tea. Vice Director Franklin Meyers immediately came into the room, shouting as he was still walking towards the Director’s desk. “There has been an attack SPE at 1600 hours.”
Kimakawa put down his tea. He responded, “Shit. Casualties? What is the damage.”
Meyers continued, “The Tower Commander said two F-81’s were engaged and destroyed by a lone Attack Fighter. Pilots are dead. But no further damage.”
Kimakawa stood up “And Ambassador’s Bird transport? Did it get off?”
Meyers answered, “Nobody knows?”
Kimakawa was puzzled. He said, “What do you mean?”
Meyers quickly responded. “The C-62T was not there. We are looking into it, but we think it might have taken off three hours earlier.”
Kimakawa raised an eyebrow. “By your crew? You weren’t informed of the departure time change?”
Meyers now looked disheartened. “My crew, security detail, and pilots were at the Dock at 15:30. They are still waiting, the C-62T never arrived. Only when the Port was under attack did they suspect something wrong.”
Kimakawa was still trying to process the events, “ And the attack fighter? Any markings?”
Meyers: “None. It got away. It likely had a Transport ship waiting for it and jumped into Hyper-EXtension. We have a residue record that matches, still trying to verify the sequence of events.”
Kimakawa took a few seconds before speaking, “How did Willits and Jones pilot the ship off the dock? The Dock Master allowed them to leave without credentials?”
Meyers responded, “It’s possible, but not likely. Either way, we have to entertain the thought that Willits and Jones have possibly gone rogue, deliberately changing a departure time.”
Kimakawa squinted his eyes at Franklin. He said, “But to a time that avoided an attack. Do we know if he changed the manifest?”
Meyers shrugged his shoulders and asked, “Would he even follow the manifest?”
Kimakawa thought about that for a second. After a moment, he responded. “So I have two rogue DAG officers escorting an Ambassador who is about to give the most important speech of his life, and we have no idea where they are going and how to communicate with them…..”
Meyers shook his head. He asked, “What do we do?”
Kimakawa answered, “Hope the pigeon courier has a message telling us what’s going on.”
The two men just stared at each other for a brief moment before Kimakawa said, “Let’s get to Space Port Earth.”
Tunsall was inside the cockpit of the Ambassador’s C-62T transport, looking at the entire control board panel. Trujillo was in the co-pilot chair next to him asleep. Willits walked into the cockpit and got behind Tunsall. He said to Tunsall, “I heard a vicious rumor that the BRG or the SS has figured out a way to put a C-Bar Transmitter on a ship? Know anything about that?”
Tunsall replied, “No, sir.”
Willits said, “So no chance there is one on this ship?”
Tunsall shook his head. “Not in any of the simulators or ones that I have flown, sir.”
Willits continued. “And you and the other DAG officers didn’t find any beacon transmitters when you did your external inspection.”
Tunsall shook his head again. “No.”
Willits continued, “So no one has a tracker on us, or is somehow following us?”
Tunsall was a bit uneasy now. “I can’t see how, sir.”
Willits kept talking. “Alright, so despite how fast this thing is, this is a good old-fashioned Hyper-EXtension trip so far. No one can communicate with us, and no one knows where we are going, correct?”
Tunsall, after a pause thinking about it, said, “I believe so, sir.”
W
illits then said, “Alright, I want you to change our coordinates.”
Tunsall said, “Excuse me?”
Willits looked at the control panel and saw what he was looking for. He typed in the coordinate numbers, then hit the button to execute. The ship tilted ever so slightly, changing course. Tunsall said, “Braccus, sir?”
Willits grinned and then whispered, “Change of plan. No one needs to know where we are going.”
Willits got up and walked out of the cockpit.
Tunsall just stared at the controls for a few more seconds, before relaxing back into his chair.
Belinea - Episode 2
Offerings
Belinea 2.1
Serpia - 2137 (twenty years prior...)
Sansigar Malovex woke up. He was lying in a bed, in an all-white pristine room. In a few seconds, he recognized he was in some sort of medical area. He glanced over to see two Medical Robots operating on his shoulder area. The operation on his burns did little to fix the scars still on his face. He glanced the other way and saw a Belinean Medical Doctor who spoke outside the room.
The Doctor said, “Lord Argo ...your cousin is awakening.”
With black robes down to his knees, a man in all black briskly walked over to the bed. The Medical Doctor was ready with caution. “Sir, he is still being operated on….”
But Argo Hassara ignored this and rushed to the side of his cousin. He looked down at his cousin and asked, “Are you alright?”
Malovex was still slightly bewildered. Looking around before finally looking at his cousin, he responded. “Yes, where am I?”
Argo replied, “Medical Wing of the Space Station. We are evacuating. The Serpian’s have officially declared victory. They have given us a grace period to leave. We are leaving within the hour. There are just a few more troops we need from the planet surface.”
Malovex glanced at his shoulder, grimacing. Looking back at Argo, he said, “Understood.”
Malovex then looked at the Robot Doctor and said, “Are you done?”
The Doctor finished ‘fusing’ the skin back together before spraying an antiseptic over the shoulder area. Malovex, feeling slightly better, then proceeded to sit-up. As he was, Argo spoke, “Sansigar, the explosion on the dock. What happened?”
Sanisgar whispered so only Argo could hear him. “The Tiloians, as many as I could get.”
Argo was in disbelief. “They were all Tiloians? The scanners read there were 138 lives on your ship?”
Malovex whispered, “Sounds about right. I couldn’t get an accurate count, because we were moving too fast. The ones I didn’t get most certainly died on the surface. Help me up.”
Argo, with his silvery ring attached to his side, assisted Malovex in getting up. Argo grabbed a black robe off to the side and helped Malovex put it on. The Doctor entered the room, put his hand on Malovex, and said, “Sir, what are you doing? You are in no condition to leave.”
Malovex continued to put the rest of his robe on. “I am fine.”
The Doctor, clearly concerned, put his hand a little deeper into Malovex’s shoulder, further emphasizing the movement restriction. Malovex stared at the hand for a couple of seconds before returning his look directly at the Doctor. The Doctor, realizing what he had done, dropped his hand. Malovex continued to stare at him. Softly, he said, “Thank you, Doctor, the Robots have reattached enough today.”
The two cousins began to walk out of the operating room. Argo assisted Malovex slightly as they continued through a doorway and down a corridor. Near the end, Argo let go and let Malovex walk on his own. He asked, “Are you good? My team is preparing for evac on Deck 17.”
Malovex, slightly grimacing, whispered, “Go. Where is the Communications Tower?”
Argo replied, “Make a left here, two flights up, take another left. Follow the corridor to the end.”
Malovex was still slightly bent over. Argo grabbed his elbow, assisting him slightly. Looking him directly in the eye, Argo needed the verification. He quietly asked, “Sanisgar, you got all of them?”
Malovex stopped, holding the ribs below his shoulder with his left arm crossed. Argo, still holding his elbow and waiting intently. Malovex replied, “The Tiloians?”
Argo nodded. Maolvex responded, “All of them.”
Argo nodded back. He continued, “I will tell Father. Full extraction in less than an hour, get all your men Sanisgar.”
Argo ran off. Malovex continued to walk, which was as fast as he could go. He followed Argo’s instructions, down the hall, two flights up, to the end of the corridor. He walked into the Communications Tower. People were scurrying everywhere. It took a few seconds for someone to identify him, but a junior officer finally did. “Lord Malovex…..”
The Junior officer ran over to Malovex and helped him. He then yelled at another officer, “Lieutenant...”
As the Lieutenant came over and assisted him, Malovex continued to walk toward a hologram map of the battle below gingerly. He said, “Let me see the board.”
Both the Junior officers flanked Malovex, one holding his elbow in assistance. The other officer spoke. “Sir, the battle is over. (Pointing) We are retreating here and here, evacuating the last troops right now. This breach was lost; whatever got out is on it’s way up now. No response from the Tiloians at this time.”
Malovex scanned the map until he found what he was looking for. Pointing, he said, “Lieutenant, this area, what happened.”
The Lieutenant replied, “BC 72, The Hunvallo, went down, in this Tiloian Province. Casualties on the Battle Cruiser are massive.”
Malovex continued, “Lieutenant, some of my team was in that area. How can I find out their status?”
The Lieutenant had no real answer. “I don’t know, sir. All ships evacuated the area over an hour ago. A few Fighters did a couple of final passes with two AT-11’s, but….”
Malovex gave a look of anger. “But what Lieutenant?”
The Lieutenant continued, “Sir, the ships did not leave anyone behind. Eyewitnesses said total destruction. If they are not currently on any of the medical frigates coming up from the surface, they are likely gone, sir.”
Malovex thought for a second. This might be the only way. “Lieutenant, check the Medical frigates, you are looking for Commander Spoon and Commander Bagget. You, I need to send a message. What are the coordinates of that crash site?”
One Lieutenant scurried off, back to his post. Mumbling, you could hear him trying to communicate the orders he was given. The other Lieutenant checked his board. “One moment, sir…… It looks like 42, 28.192, 15.353 by 44, 61.538, and 71.454. But sir, that entire area is no longer in our control.”
Malovex was typing the coordinates into a computer in front of him. He had entered a few codes, then typed out a message, held his hand on the computer scanner, and said clearly “ Malovex, Sansigar, ID 64190623, clearance.”
The computer responded, “Clearance accepted, message sent.”
Malovex then asked a second command. “Location of Quiilisar Farra.”
The computer responded, “Quillisar Farra is in the Meditation Room on deck 14.”
Malovex turned to the Lieutenants. “Let me know if you find my Commanders. If you find anyone else from my team, we leave Serpia in thirty minutes.”
Malovex walked out, still laboring to breathe and walk normally. He went down the corridor to the main shaft elevator and took it. He yelled, “Deck 14.”
The shaft elevator accelerated. Despite moving quickly, it gave Malovex a few seconds to think. He was still reflecting on the events that had transpired in the last few hours. He looked down at his wrist and saw the time on his monitor. He began to do the calculations in his head. The shaft elevator doors opened, and he briskly walked out. Malovex turned down a series of corridors until he got to the meditation room. He entered.
There w
ere rows of pews, all empty, except for one person in a red cloak, kneeling in the fourth row. A silvery-white ring hung from around her neck in front of her chest, similar in shape to the ring Malovex had hanging from his hip. Her hands were folded in front of her face, praying to the diamond shape figure on the wall. She did not turn, however, despite hearing the doors open. Malovex walked into the room, down the middle aisle. He bowed to the diamond figure, then kneeled in the row behind the red-cloaked priest.
Malovex put hands in a prayer position as well. His heart was pounding. He quietly whispered, “Are we alone, my Quillisar?”
Quillisar Farra, still with the cloak around her head that made it impossible to see her face, gently whispered back. “We are Sansigar. Would you like to tell me your sins?”
Malovex ever so quietly responded, “Yes, my Quillisar.”
Belinea 2.2
Twenty Years Later…...
Space Port Earth
Director Kimakawa, Vice Director Franklin Meyers, and Lord Malovex were in the control tower of SPE. On the hologram board, they were getting constant replays, from different angles, of the attack on the base. Kimakawa, pointing, spoke to the Tower Control Commander. “So this first jamming occurred here, at this moment, correct?”
The officer responded, “Yes, sir.”
Kimakawa continued, “And all of your rear sensors and map sonar failed? They crippled the entire system, no reading on anything?”
The officer nodded and spoke, “That is correct, sir.”
Malovex watched for a few more seconds. “This is Dretelli jamming code.”
Meyers responded, “What is that?”
Malovex continued. “The Secret Service and the BRG have noticed this particular signature jam in small smuggler runs on different planets, mainly near the Avolian system. My cousin, Lord Argo, recently captured a ship with this hardware. The SS is still breaking it down to find a way to reverse the jamming effects.”