by K. D. Mattis
When the ceremony ended, the president and Asher allowed soldiers to escort them to Air Force One. Before long, they were in the air and headed for Texas.
The president and his wife sat next to each other. Asher sat across from them with the press secretary. The press secretary had a laptop on his legs, prepared to transcribe their conversation. The president put up a hand and shook his head, and the secretary closed the computer.
“Now, Admiral Asher,” the president said, “why is it you needed me to join you at Johnson Space Center?”
“There’s something you have to see, Mr. President.”
“And I must see it in person?”
“Central Command insisted you see it personally. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe it otherwise.”
At the Johnson Space Center, several armed guards escorted them down deep into the ground. Asher didn’t know exactly how far down they travelled, but she knew it was several stories. She could feel the speed of the elevator, but considerable time passed before they reached the bottom. When the doors opened, a mix of coated rock and metal framing lined the walls with massive bundles of cabling, broken up by access panels every fifty feet, greeted the group.
Several more guards, all dwarfing Asher, rounded the corner and joined the group. She knew she was their commanding officer, but even still, Asher had a tough time staying calm around them.
Coming from around a corner, Commander Gibbs stopped to salute Asher and the commander in chief. “Is he here to see the remains, sir?”
Asher nodded.
“Right this way, then.”
Gibbs led the pair through several thick, metal doors. Each door closed behind them before the one in front opened. Every few feet, a camera housing showed itself. Each door was guarded heavily.
Finally, the group arrived in a small, empty room. They walked to a large window on the far end and looked on a man lying on a bed.
Covered by sheets and a thin hospital gown, the man looked weak. Sweat covered his body and plastered his hair to his forehead. Dark spots covered his skin and his eyes, surrounded with dark circles, were closed. His chest rose slightly with every breath. His lips moved faintly.
“What’s he saying?” President Krasinski asked.
Commander Gibbs flipped a switch on the wall.
“The system belongs to us. Stay on your planet. You have no choice.”
With a thick, raspy voice, the corpsman kept repeating the same thing.
The president ran his fingers through his hair. “My god. What happened to him?”
They led him from the room and farther down the hall, through several more doors until they came to a large room. Men in white coats rushed around from one station to the next. In the center of the room sat a clear box with hundreds of cables attached to it.
“What is that?” the president asked.
“That,” Asher said, “is what happened to the corpsman on the hospital bed.”
Inside the box was a thin stand holding a metal tray. In the metal tray was a pile of green dust.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“I know it looks like dust now,” Gibbs said, “but it wasn’t always.”
“That dust used to be a gel,” Asher said. “When the alien ship hit the Guardian, the crew said some kind of energy passed through the hull. Shortly after, the green blob just formed in the air.”
Gibbs said, pre-empting the president’s question, “No, we have no idea how it formed or how it got through.”
“After it formed in the air,” Asher continued, “it fell to the ground. When the lights went out, the crew couldn’t keep track of it. Somehow, the blob got into the corpsman’s mind. They say he collapsed for a few seconds before standing and saying exactly what you heard him say a few minutes ago.”
“If it was a gel before, why is it now dust?” he asked.
“We don’t know. A team of doctors went in to take it out. When they removed it, it dried out instantly and turned into dust. What you see in the tray is what they were able to recover.”
“Admiral,” the president asked, “if you had to guess, what do you think this means?”
“I don’t know.” Asher leaned over the case and pressed her palms against its edge. “We don’t know what it is. They’re doing their best, but our teams can’t even break down what the material is. What we know is that we don’t have anything that’s even remotely close to what this material is capable of.
“Sir, I don’t know how to say it, but whatever these aliens are, whatever it is that they want, they have technology far beyond our own.”
“And?” the president asked.
“If I look at this strategically and put myself in their shoes, I wouldn’t have put my ship in danger if there wasn’t backup of some kind in the area. Whatever they want, they’ll be back, and we’d better be ready.”
17
With his hands dancing on the controls, Lieutenant Harris turned the Explorer. Under orders from the admiral, he prepared to bring the giant vessel around for another attack run on the two alien ships.
“Admiral, we’re ready to make our run.”
Asher sat in her command chair. Her hair was back in a tight bun. She casually wiped down the front of her uniform as she plotted the next step of the battle. Without saying a word, she turned to her diagnostics team.
The commander of the team nodded as he said, “Sir, it looks like the alien vessel on the left has suffered the most damage. If we can catch them on their side with several torpedoes, we may be able to destroy them.”
“Harris,” Asher said, “move on the left ship. Tactical, give them everything you have as soon as you get a good shot.”
The communications officer spoke up. “Guardian and Protector are requesting orders.”
“Tell them to keep as much of the firepower from the second ship off us as much they can. We can’t take much more of a beating.”
The Explorer shot forward. The enemy ships moved forward as well.
As the Explorer moved, six points of light at the front of each of the alien vessels grew brighter. Everyone knew what would happen next. No one knew how to counter it.
“Harris, evasive maneuvers!” Asher commanded.
With a flick of the controls, the Explorer twisted and moved. The metal of the ship groaned under the strain of the quick movement, but it did as the pilot asked.
Twelve shots ripped through space from the alien weapons. Six of the shots bit right into the hull of the Explorer, sending shrapnel flying out into space. Three more shots aimed at the Explorer missed. The remaining shots tore into the Protector.
With a bit of strain, the commander of the diagnostics team started to speak up. Raising a hand, the admiral hushed him. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that the Protector was dead in the water.
“Lieutenant Card,” Asher addressed the communications officer, “contact the Guardian and tell them to break off the assault. If there are any survivors on the Protector, I want the Guardian to rescue them.”
The pilot didn’t need to wait for orders. He’d worked with the admiral long enough to know that she wanted him to continue the assault. He plotted the course again and made his way to the alien vessel on the left. Once more, the lights on the alien vessel turned bright.
Asher bit her lip. Her crew only had one chance at success.
“Tactical, are you ready with the torpedoes?”
Holt nodded. “Sir, all we need is a clear shot. If you can give us that, we’ll do what we can.”
Looking at the monitors, Asher didn’t know what to think. The Explorer went as fast as it could, but she didn’t know if it was fast enough. The alien vessels prepared to release another volley of fire on her ship, and she didn’t know if it—they—could survive.
The engines at the back of the Explorer screamed. They had nothing left to give. As the enemy fire tore into them, the engines let off a blue fireball before falling silent.
Without anything to slow them
down, the Explorer couldn’t stop.
Racing toward the enemy vessel, the Explorer couldn’t miss.
Asher jumped from her seat and shouted, “Harris get us out of the way!”
“There’s nothing I can do, sir. All thrusters are dead.”
“Tactical. Fire torpedoes. We won’t get another chance,” Asher cried.
As the torpedoes hit their mark, the enemy vessel jumped from the impact, remaining a threat.
While the torpedoes moved the vessel a bit, it wasn’t enough. The Explorer sideswiped it.
Metal twisted and moaned under the sheer force of the impact. When it finished, the Explorer floated in space.
“Status report,” Asher said.
The communications officer shook her head, as if in a trance. “We’re receiving reports of hull breaches across the ship. Main engines and thrusters are dead. Except for two torpedoes, no weapon systems are working. Sir, we’re sitting ducks.”
The enemy ship with the least damage turned to the Explorer. All six of its weapon ports glowed before firing. When they hit the Explorer, the monitors at the front of the room turned black.
Lights turned on, and a mechanical voice announced, “Simulation complete. Status: failure. All Space Corps vessels are destroyed.”
Asher let out an irritated sigh before reaching up and releasing her hair. Giving her head a shake, her tightly curled, blonde hair dropped around her head and into her face. With a brush of her hand, she pushed it out of the way.
Harris stood up from the pilot’s seat and let out a disgusted grunt. He stormed out of the simulation chamber, not asking for dismissal.
Part of Asher wanted to stop him, but another part understood his frustration. They’d performed two simulations a day for the last month, but still her crew suffered defeat every time.
With all eyes on her, Asher said, “Dismissed. Get some rest. We’ll meet in the conference room in two hours to recap this simulation.”
Most of the officers offered a tired salute. Asher appreciated the gesture, but she couldn’t help but feel that she had let them down. They performed their orders to perfection. It was she who couldn’t lead them to victory.
When everyone else left the simulation chamber, Asher collapsed back in her chair. Running her hands through her hair, she tried to think of something, anything that she missed.
“Another bad run, Admiral?” asked a tired, middle-aged woman who entered the chamber.
Asher didn’t notice her arrival and jolted up in her chair. She wore plain clothes and pushed a cart filled with cleaning supplies that didn’t quite fit in with the stark and modern consoles that filled the simulation chamber.
“You’re here early today, aren’t you?” Asher asked.
The cleaning woman smiled. “My son has a soccer game today. I wanted to get off in time to go see it.”
“I see. To answer your question, we definitely lost today. I don’t know what it is, but we can’t seem to get the upper hand.”
With several carefully placed steps, the cleaning woman made her way to each of the different consoles and wiped them down. Each movement of her hand was steady and filled with purpose. Her hands, though worn with age and exposure to the cleaning chemicals, showed a certain grace about them.
“Admiral,” she started.
“Just Asher, please. You’re a civilian. There’s no need to call me Admiral.”
The woman offered a bashful smile. “Asher, I’ve been meaning to ask you, is this room an exact replica of the real Explorer?”
“Almost. The real thing is made with more metal. I know it’s a minor thing, but it makes the place feel completely different. It’s like visiting your favorite park at night. Everything is basically the same, but it just doesn’t feel the same.”
“My son, he keeps asking me about the space corps. I have no doubt he’s going to try to join as soon as he’s old enough, but he doesn’t know how. Is there a path he should take?”
“There are many paths,” Asher said. “I went to the Naval Academy. From there, they changed my commission from the navy to the space corps.”
The cleaning woman slowed as she listened. Even so, every stroke of her cloth was precise.
“Admiral, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”
“Not at all. Did your son have any specific questions about the Corps?”
“Of course. I guess his biggest is about what it’s like up there. What’s it like flying above Earth?”
Asher’s eyes looked toward the black monitors at the front of the room. “It’s amazing. I can’t quite describe it, but the best feeling is the weightlessness. There’s something magical about floating in the air as you perform your job.
“Imagine,” Asher said, “that you came into this chamber today for work. Sure, you can have your feet stick to the ground with magnets in your boots, but you can also hover in the air. Kick off the ground a bit, and you’ll go to the ceiling. Push off one of the consoles, and you’ll simply float to another.”
The cleaning woman looked at the cloth in her hand and at her feet planted firmly on the ground. “It sounds wonderful.”
“It’s beyond wonderful. It’s a dream. Every minute I was out there, I hoped it would never end.”
“It’s sad, but all things must end. Even something as wonderful as that.”
Asher nodded and walked toward the door. In the doorway, she stopped and turned toward the cleaning woman who went back to her work with her usual dedication.
“For now,” Asher whispered.
18
“Admiral, I don’t want to sound negative, but I don’t know that it can be done.”
Commander Gibbs paced behind his chair in the conference room. After wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead, he removed the jacket of his uniform and placed it on the back of his seat before continuing to pace.
“Commander,” Asher said, “I understand. I really do. I know we’re all exhausted and that we’ve tried everything we can think of, but it’s important that we find a way.”
“Admiral, I get that, but we’ve tried everything there is. If the aliens return with more than one vessel like the one we saw before, we don’t stand a chance.”
Putting her head in her hands, Asher tried to squeeze the sleep out of her eyes. Just like every time before, they spent several hours in the conference room discussing the day’s simulations with nothing to show for it.
“Don’t forget,” Ensign Tran said to the room, “Central Command has allowed us to build more of the smaller ships like Guardian and Protector. Does that change anything?”
“No. Of course, it doesn’t change anything,” said Commander Cole.
“We could try another formation or combination of—”
“No!” Cole closed his eyes and shook his head. “We’ve tried everything we possibly can with the additional ships. They serve as a distraction, but nothing else. They just aren’t strong enough to go toe to toe with one of the alien ships.
“We’ve seen it in actual combat, and we’ve seen it in the simulations. The smaller ships are great, but they get knocked out too easily. Once they’re out of the fight, they serve as a distraction for the ships that are still in it. We can throw as many up there as we want, but if we have to keep saving the ships that get knocked offline, then it doesn’t do us any good. They aren’t large enough and don’t pack enough firepower to do any real damage.”
“Then what?” Commander Gibbs half shouted and half asked his question.
Cole rolled his eyes. “Then we have to build larger ships. We have to build them and get them ready for combat.”
Reynolds sat, looking back and forth between the two commanders. Several times, he took out a notepad and wrote something down.
“Gentlemen,” Reynolds said, “I hate to burst anyone’s bubble, but the reason Central Command is only authorizing us to build smaller ships is that we don’t have a way to build anything larger.”
“We know,” Asher said, yawning.
“If we want to convince them to let us build something bigger, maybe we should request the ability to build something that would give us the ability first.”
Gibbs laughed. “You mean you want to build another space station?”
“Exactly.”
“Don’t you remember how quickly the aliens destroyed the last one?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you remember why?” Cole asked.
“Because it couldn’t defend itself.”
“And it couldn’t move,” Gibbs added.
Reynolds cleared his throat. “If it had been able to defend itself, it wouldn’t have had to move. We could put much larger weapons on a space station than we could on a ship.”
“Gibbs, Cole, I know you don’t like it, but you’re wrong.”
The incredulous expressions on the faces of the commanders almost made Asher laugh aloud. She did her best to stifle her laughter before continuing.
“We could use a space station. We could use a network of them. We would need it to build any large ships. There’s no doubt about that. Unfortunately, that’s not practical if we can’t defend it. As much as I would love to say we should request to build one that could defend itself, it is currently illegal for us to build an armed space station.”
Cole’s mouth dropped. “Illegal, sir?”
Gibbs stopped pacing and stared at the admiral. When he realized she wasn’t joking, he continued to pace.
“Yes, illegal,” Asher said. “Don’t any of you know the history of space exploration? In 1967, the United States signed a treaty banning any military installations in space.”
“But, sir,” Cole said, “we’ve had a space station before.”
“It was unarmed. It was created and run by a civilian organization.”
“What about the Explorer?”
Asher sighed. “It’s an exploration vessel. Yes, it technically violates the treaty, but we were able to get permission. That was a one-time deal. The smaller ships created on Earth are currently stationed on Earth. We could get permission, but we would need a new treaty. That’s a lot easier said than done.”