by Dean M. Cole
"Good copy, Vampire Six. What about boarding the fighters closest to the atmosphere? If we can move them to a higher altitude, it'll buy us more time."
"Already tried that. No obvious means of entry. Our only option is to gain access into the carrier ship and remotely recall them."
"Additionally," he continued. "I want commanders and pilots ready to move into position as soon as we gain access. If more of these alien bastards show up, I want to have a big surprise waitin' for 'em."
"Roger, Vampire Six," Jake replied. "How can we assist?"
"Captain Allison, you're more familiar with the Turtle's capabilities. I need you to take it back to Nellis Air Force Base in Vegas. I want you to link up with General Pearson, the base commander. I've already briefed him on our status. I'll update him, and let him know you're coming."
Richard reached over and toggled the comm panel. "Yes, sir."
"He's putting together a group of naval commanders for the bigger ships and pilots from all services for the fighters. Once you've debriefed the general, you're to begin ferrying personnel and supplies."
"Good copy. Will do, sir."
Jake toggled the panel. "And, for me, sir?"
"First, Captain Fitzpatrick sends her regards."
Jake sat upright. "Sandy?" He toggled the radio. "How did she … is she okay? Are her parents…"
"I'm told it's a long story, Captain. Suffice it to say, she and her parents are safely back on the ground at Nellis. As a matter of fact, your still being alive is in no small part because of her actions."
Dumbfounded, Jake wordlessly stared at the radio.
"Anyway, Captain Giard, you can get the rest of the story from her later. I'm sending the rest of my squadron back for rearming. In the meantime, you and I are going to link up and find a way into that carrier."
***
"Good copy on all, Zach. Sorry to hear about Lieutenant Croft. Please pass on my thanks to Captains Giard and Allison. Nellis Actual, out."
Colonel Newcastle's voice echoed through the command center's reverent silence. "Roger, General. I'll pass it on. Vampire Six, out."
Torn by the dichotomous news, Sandy struggled with her emotions, unsure whether to smile or cry. While she'd never been close to Lieutenant Croft, she'd always liked him. Having taken Victor under his wing, Jake had seen the junior officer as a little brother.
Apparently reading her mixed emotions, General Pearson's brusque features softened, his steel gray eyes actually looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry for your loss. I understand the young lieutenant was a friend to all of you." He turned toward the room's main display. On it, Colonel Newcastle's Vampire Space Fighter glided up to the parked Turtle. "All of you did great things today." Turning from the screen, he proffered his right hand.
Startled and speechless, Sandy took the hand in hers and shook it.
The grizzled old man's hard face softened further and his eyes sparkled with admiration. "Good job, Captain Fitzpatrick. I, hell, all of us, owe all of you a great debt of gratitude."
Sandy opened her mouth to tell him she hadn't done a thing, but he held up a hand.
"I know you think it was all them, but if you hadn't thought so quickly, we'd have lost your friends." He pointed at the alien rock. "And, that ship, along with the secret of its weapon, would've crashed into the ocean, causing even more death and destruction."
"But, sir—"
The general shook his head. "I'm not finished, Captain."
Sandy nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Do you see all those?" He pointed at the drifting fleet of dark, sleek Argonian ships. Not waiting for her acknowledgement, he continued. "I need pilots to man them." He cast an apologetic look at her. "I mean staff them, or hell, whatever. You get the idea." Lowering his arm, the general gave Sandy a meaningful look. "Anyway, Captain, as much as I think we owe you and your fellow officers, I think we're going to owe you a lot more." He glared at the charred alien visage. "We may have won this battle, but I don't think the Zoxyth are done with us, and I know I'm not done with you."
Sandy's thoughts reeled with the implications of the general's plan, but her myriad questions went unasked as all that came out was another, "Yes, sir."
General Pearson smiled. After a paternal pat on her shoulder, he turned and walked away.
Sandy placed a hand on her abdomen. Under her bloodied flightsuit, she felt the edge of the bandages the medic had applied to her side. After a quick examination, he'd given Sandy and her unborn baby a clean bill of health. The sergeant, the same medic that had met her on the Nellis tarmac, had also informed her that while her father had lost his leg the doctors thought his prognosis was very good and they expected a full recovery. He'd also said the entire ICU staff had given her mother the honorary title of General Firecracker, one she had apparently taken to quite readily.
Looking at her future baby-bump, she smiled. "Looks like you and I will get to have a little chat with your daddy, soon."
***
Jake stepped into the airlock and turned back to Richard. "Now, don't forget—"
"Dude, I told you I'll talk to her and find out what happened. I'm just as curious about what Newcastle said as you are. I'll check on her and get word to you ASAP."
"Thank you," he said, then nodded toward the shrouded body in the ship's center. "Make sure Lieutenant Croft gets the recognition he deserves."
"Nothing but the best," Richard agreed.
A backward step took him deeper into the airlock. He saluted sharply. "Captain Allison, it's been an honor."
Richard returned the salute. "Same here, Captain. Be careful out there."
Lowering his arm, Jake said, "See you on the other side."
The airlock wall sealed.
As Jake turned toward the outer wall, his helmet's limpid visor flowed into shape, protecting him from the ensuing vacuum. The exterior wall evaporated, revealing a beautiful panorama of stars. At its center hovered a Vampire Attack fighter. Through its open canopy, Colonel Newcastle raised a hand to his spacesuit's helmet.
Standing in the opening, Captain Jake Giard returned the salute.
EPILOGUE
"In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity."
― Sun-Tzu, The Art of War
"Admiral Tekamah, all ships report battle ready," said the Helm Warden's tactical officer.
The Galactic Defense Force's supreme commander, Admiral Ashtara Tekamah, studied the holographic rendering of his fleet and the rapidly closing system. "I hate blindly flying into a potential battle." In his EON's virtual vision, Tekamah toggled Admiral Feyhdyak's icon. "Any contact with your bio-half?"
A few hours earlier, the computer-based portion of Admiral Thoyd Feyhdyak, the commander he'd sent to intercept the Zoxyth fleet closing on Sector Sixty-Four, had informed him that something had severed his communications link with his biological. He reported they had been seconds from dropping into Earth space when the disconnect occurred.
"Nothing yet, sir." Computer-based Thoyd's voice had a panicked edge. Disconnected intelligences usually did. As a combat commander, Ashtara communed with disjointed personalities all too often. They always seemed on the verge of panic. As if the time separated from their organic id would lead to irreparable psychosis, the untethered parallel existence creating a permanent schizophrenic duality. Tekamah knew it wasn't an idle concern. It happened, and the longer the separation, the rougher the reconnect. Upon discovering their bio-half had indeed died, he'd seen relief in the virtual face of more than one computer-based personality. It was said that bonding with a fresh tank-grown body was sometimes easier than re-merging with a divergent copy.
The practice of placing copies of combat personnel into the network began for the obvious reasons. Subsequently, they had instituted the realtime connection between network-based and organic-based ids in order to prevent that duality. Otherwise, one was merely a copy. Continuity was lost. If one died, its stream of consciousness went with it. As an earth-based Argonian from the ninetee
n seventies or eighties would say, 'Is it live, or is it Memorex?'
Computer-based Thoyd's virtual eyebrows raised. "What do you think happened, Ashtara? I've consulted with my subordinates within the network. None has heard from their bios."
"Calm down, Thoyd. I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation. You were still in parallel-space, the Zox don't have anything that could touch you there."
Admiral Feyhdyak's avatar looked ready to say more, but Tekamah held up a virtual hand. "Thoyd, I have to go. We're approaching Chuvarti. I'll let you know as soon as I hear from you or any of your vessels."
He closed the connection and turned to the communications officer. "Have we received any further distress calls from the Chuvarti system?"
"No, sir, nothing since the initial call. It's fortunate we were so close to Sector Nineteen."
Tekamah nodded, but he knew fortune had nothing to do with it. The intel he'd received placed half of Thrakst's fleet in this sector while the other half had deployed to the far side of the galaxy in remote Sector Sixty-Four. He had a nagging feeling there was more to this situation than met the eye.
"Place all battlecruisers on a weapons-free status," Ordered Tekamah. "All fighter squadrons are to launch as soon as we drop out of parallel-space. If we're flying into a trap, I want the Zoxyth to regret it."
He studied the fish-eye lens of the squeezed star field to the formation's front. A tiny bright blue spec at its center, the planet Chuvarti, grew into a discernible sphere as the fleet closed.
The navigation officer broke the silence. "Normal space in three, two—"
Thank you for reading!
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed SECTOR 64: Ambush. Thanks for riding along with me on this journey.
I regularly receive letters from readers asking, "What happens next?" As you know, Ambush left our little SECTOR of the galaxy long on warships but short on staff. Then, there's that whole Zox problem elsewhere in the galaxy.
I love your feedback. Actually, you are the reason I continue to develop the SECTOR 64 universe. Book two, SECTOR 64: Retribution, is progressing nicely. Lots of new twists and turns that I can't wait to share with you.
While I work on book two, I'd love to hear from you. Tell me what you liked, what you loved, even what you hated. You can write me at [email protected] and visit me on the web at www.deanmcole.com.
Finally, I need to ask a favor. If you're so inclined, I'd truly appreciate a review of SECTOR 64: Ambush. In this day of emarketing, you have the power to make or break a book. If you have the time, please follow the link to the review posting page for SECTOR 64: Ambush.
https://www.amazon.com/review/create-review?ie=UTF8&asin=B00NE03JD8.
Thank you so much for reading SECTOR 64: Ambush and for being my wingman on this adventure.
Warmest Regards,
Dean M. Cole