Celestial Incursion

by Eddie R. Hicks

  “Stay quiet, look pretty, and I won’t have to.”

  “Queenea,” the captain called out to her. “Are you done with the scholar?”

  Queenea nodded. “Yes, Captain, Odelea here is going back to where she belongs for the time being.”

  “Thank you, Queenea,” the captain said, turning his chair back to face the viewer.

  Queenea stood behind Odelea guiding her into the elevator with her hands placed across her shoulders. She felt her fingers slither across her scales slowly as the doors shut. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Iey’liwea was known to do whatever it took to get her way; that included seducing other women if needed. Queenea was one of those women, who, in turn, added the technique to her repertoire after the two became business partners.

  Odelea broke away from her grasp and kept her back to the opposite wall as the elevator lowered. “Where I belong?”

  “You want to make discoveries?” Queenea said drily. “Start by finishing what you got going on in that lab you took over without asking for the captain’s permission or mine. We’ll get you everything else you need in time.”

  “Why all this rush to escort a human back to Aervounis?”

  “It’s not a human,” Queenea said, looking away from Odelea. “It’s Tolukei.”

  Tolukei, the Javnis Muodiry that participated in the Sirius expedition. Odelea remembered reading about it on human internet news sites.

  “The council wishes to speak with him, face-to-face, without telepathy,” Queenea added.

  “In regard to what?” Odelea asked.

  “In regard to the matter of the Abyssal Sword.”

  11 Foster

  Interstellar Expedition Space Agency HQ (IESA)

  Paris, Earth, Sol system

  August 4, 2118, 15:30 SST (Sol Standard Time)

  Butterflies in the stomach, worried thoughts, cold sweating, irregular breathing, and heartbeats so intense the vibrating thumps could be felt through the body. These were the feelings Captain Rebecca Foster was experiencing as she stood before an IESA tribunal.

  Three of the directors of the space agency sat at their long rectangular desk on the top floor of the pearl-white building in Paris. Their hands were folded over and eyes glancing at Foster as she glanced right back, hoping for the best, expecting the worst.

  She wondered what thoughts had been going through their minds to prompt such silence, and then remembered HNI and its ability to pull reports, data, and share it with others. No doubt reviewing the reports of the recent events and weighing it against the good she’d done at Sirius. Were they going to announce that the Carl Sagan was salvageable? Offer her command on a new ship?

  The anticipation was driving her insane.

  “Captain Foster,” one of them finally spoke. “After a careful review of EISS reports conducted by Agent Moriston, reports filed by the EDF that boarded the Carl Sagan, and our own observations . . .” The director paused to consider their next words. Foster’s emotions braced for impact. “We have concluded that the crew of the Carl Sagan may be, or had been, under alien influence.”

  Foster’s earlier symptoms doubled in intensity, and her skin grew pale.

  “Who these influencers are remains to be seen,” another director said. “It might be loyalists to the Architect, or it might have been remnants of the Celestial Order. You did, after all, leave Earth at a time when that organization was still strong.”

  “Whatever the case might be, the disappearance of the Abyssal Sword, which we are fairly certain entered Sirius during your time there, followed by the disappearance of the Carl Sagan, were most likely the beginnings of the invader’s current aggressions toward us and the galaxy.”

  “This combined with questionable actions of you and your crew on top of what we’ve observed to be unprofessional behavior from you.”

  Foster cleared her throat. “May I speak?”

  “Of course, Foster.”

  “As we have said time and time again since our return,” Foster said. “We are innocent, victims if anythin’. Our actions in Sirius saved the lives of billions.”

  “Yes, of course, no one denies what you have done, and we are grateful for your bravery in Sirius.” The three directors exchanged glances with each other. “But that was the past, this is the present, and presently we cannot take the risk of you being in command of a ship as there might be alien programming waiting to be triggered.”

  Foster looked up to the ceiling for a moment and carefully blinked to hold back, or at least delay, the moistening of her eyes. Space exploration, reaching the stars, continuing her father’s dream, it’s what she lived for. It’s what she worked so hard for. And now they were ready to take it all away.

  “You and your crew are to be reassigned to IESA bases and outposts until further information can be obtained about your condition and the restoration of your lost memories.”

  “Please, I beg you to reconsider,” Foster pleaded. This was her last chance to save her command, her last chance to prevent their decision from going forward. She had to speak up now and make it happen. “Don’t take the stars away from me. If you could let me—”

  “I’m sorry, the decision has been made. You are to report to the Kapteyn's Star system for your reassignment. Living arrangements have been made for you at Amicitia Station 14.”

  Why not just straight-up tell me you don’t want me anywhere near Earth or a ship?

  12 Chevallier

  ESV Robert Borden

  Earth orbit, Sol system

  August 4, 2118, 21:23 SST (Sol Standard Time)

  Chevallier was impressed with the layout of Earth ships of the twenty-second century. With the invader fleet gone, and the fighting on Earth reduced to a small pocket of resistance groups, she, along with Boyd’s EDF team returned to their ship, the Robert Borden, a small space to stratosphere destroyer.

  The first thing she noticed upon passing through the airlock doors was gravity, yet there was no rotating habitat ring. Drifting from corridor to corridor was a thing of the past, one she’d never be able to return to and was glad for it.

  After a long, tiring debriefing with the captain, Chevallier retired to the lounge, resting her exhausted body on a soft leather couch as Earth hung in the backdrop from its observation windows. She watched off-duty crew personnel come and go, sit and drink, and talk about the double shifts they’d been working since the attack begun. Fighter pilots played a decisive game of poker in the corner and poured out a drink for the members of their squad that would no longer be able to play with them.

  The news played on a nearby holo TV, the news reporter’s words falling on deaf ears as people were too fixated on their drinks. Chevallier was not one of them.

  “Like all colonies throughout UNE space, the colonists of Saturn’s largest moon, Titan, are counting their blessings in the aftermath of the invader’s attack which has left thousands dead on Earth and in orbit,” said the news reporter on the holo TV. “Last night in Cassini City, a candlelight vigil was held in honor of the brave men and women who sacrificed their lives and the many innocent civilians who lost their lives in this horrific act of war.”

  Chevallier watched a clip of the aforementioned vigil play. Saturn’s hulking presence appeared in the horizon of the domed city as hundreds, if not thousands, of people participated.

  The reporter continued. “Many communities throughout Titan and other colonies are pleading for people to donate blood today or make credit donations to assist with the recovery effort at our homeworld and our nation’s capital.”

  “Coming up next,” another reported jumped in after the clip ended. “An exclusive one-on-one interview with a Hashmedai that witnessed the invader attack on Paryo, and our analysts take a careful look at the now unstable galactic stock exchange as a result of the invaders’ attacks. Via QEC, this is Saturn Network News, the number one trusted news source of the Sol system.”

  Metropolis on Titan, colonies beyond Sol, galactic stock exchange . . . Cheva
llier had a lot of catch-up reading to do and learn what had happened since 2033, on top of figuring out the motives of the invaders, and why they look like dragons. Though, if her experience at Sirius had taught her anything, mythology and real-world facts are one and the same.

  Boyd entered later, wearing his off-duty tank top, exposing his bulging, strong and dark arms while his dog tags bounced off his burly chest as he moved. He slipped past the crowded bar, taking a seat with Chevallier, waiting for it to die down before he got a drink, at least that’s what she had been doing.

  “You lied to me, Sergeant,” Chevallier said to him. “You said a lot has changed, more like everything has changed.”

  Boyd laughed. “The end of 2040 brought in the foundations for what we have today. The wormhole network? We reverse engineered a Lyonria wormhole discovered in the Kuiper belt that linked with Barnard’s Star. That made space travel a lot easier until FTL was a thing when we returned to Sirius.”

  “Let me guess, you reverse engineered the drones we encountered there?”

  “Damn right we did.”

  Over the course of a hundred years, the human race advanced to become one of the most high-tech galactic nations in the quadrant. And they did it by learning what aliens did before them, and then copied it by the sounds of it. She wondered if there was anything within human society that was of an original human design, and not a copy of a discovery aliens had made.

  “So, that’s what the UNE has become?” Chevallier said. “A group that takes advance tech and adds it to their own?”

  “We got no choice, Radiance and the Hashmedai had been in space for hundreds, if not, thousands of years before we walked on the moon. We need to catch up.”

  “From what I see, we’ve surpassed everyone.”

  “The UNE fleet is still the smallest compared to the Empire. And Radiance? The size of their navy is unbeatable. Both the Imperial and UNE fleets combined wouldn’t have enough numbers to match them ship for ship. If we can’t protect our colonies with large fleets, then we need to do it with better tech. Which brings up the next problem, peace.”

  Chevallier chuckled. “How is that a bad thing?”

  “The new empress wants peaceful relationships with the UNE; meanwhile, the UNE has convinced Radiance and the Empire to enter a ceasefire. This means new technological advancements get shared with those nations. We need to stay ahead, not allow everyone else to catch up with our advancements.”

  “He also forgot to mention,” Maxwell said, interrupting, joining the two on the couch. “New advancements from Radiance have helped improved life here.”

  Maxwell, despite being in off-duty attire, still looked more machine than human with his human psionic cybernetic implants.

  “Like what?” Boyd snorted.

  “Uh, gene therapy?” Maxwell said.

  Boyd shrugged. “Debatable.”

  “Hey, guys,” Chevallier said, drawing attention to herself with waving hands. “Girl from the past here, doesn’t know what you are saying.”

  Maxwell grinned at her and explained. “It was developed by Scholar Odelea and the Souyila Corporation. Immortality, nobody dies of old age.”

  Boyd countered with more facts. “Souyila, in turn, sold it to UNE corporations that modified and made it better, so people could reverse their age, and created other uses for it outside of ageing. And you know what happened next? That improved version made it back to Radiance AND the Empire. If anything, that proves my point, we got our hands on something made by aliens, improved it, racked in the rewards, and then gave it away to the rest of the galaxy in the name of peace.”

  Boyd’s face turned to the observation window and examined crews in space suits recovering the remains of obliterated ships above the horizon. “Peace is dead,” he added in a grim tone of voice.

  The debate the two had helped brighten Chevallier’s day. “Are you telling me the fountain of youth was invented?”

  “Pretty much,” Boyd said. “I was on Earth during the Hashmedai invasion a hundred years ago. I don’t look a day over 26.”

  If Boyd was around then, there was still hope for Chevallier’s mother to be around in this fantastic era of history. Radiance medical tech cured all known sickness back in the 2030s when she was still around, and, so, if she understood what they said correctly, death only came from external sources.

  “Oh, look at that smile,” Maxwell said, smirking at her. “Bet you can’t wait to get your therapy and revert back to an eighteen-year-old hottie.”

  “There’s so much I need to do,” Chevallier said.

  Maxwell stopped suddenly and waved his hand, creating a holographic window in its wake. “Speaking of things to do . . .” he said as he scrolled through a long list.

  “Oh shit . . .” Boyd did the same and viewed the same list. It was a list of names from what she was able to see over his shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” Chevallier asked, having noticed the mood switch from positive, to sour.

  “UNE just released a finalized casualty list from the attack,” Boyd said, pushing the hologram closer to her.

  Chevallier eyed the list, a stupidly long list of names of brave men and women whose lives came to a sudden end when the invaders arrived. Gene therapy meant that people she knew back in 2033 might be alive today.

  Might be.

  Being listed as KIA could change all of that.

  The Wilfred Laurier was listed as heavily damaged, but not lost. She browsed through its KIA list. Its captain was listed as KIA. Her heartbeat raced, and then realized the captain wasn’t her mother, nor was she a captain anymore.

  That’s right she’s an admiral now. “My mother . . .” Chevallier panicked. “What ship was she on?”

  “Hold on.” Boyd performed a search and read the results. “She was on the Julius Caesar.”

  The Julius Caesar’s casualty list was brought up.

  All three of them gave it a blank stare.

  “Oh my God,” Chevallier whispered.

  The Julius Caesar was lost in the battle above Earth, no escape pods were found.

  The first name on the Julius Caesar’s casualty list appeared.

  Admiral Agatha Chevallier: Status – KIA

  The manifest of the mighty dreadnaught’s crew followed, all KIA.

  “I’m sorry.” Boyd said . . . or was it Maxwell? She didn’t know. The emotions that raced in her had caused all sounds around her to fade into muffled sounds. She couldn’t even hear herself scream and furiously punch the wall, drawing the attention of everyone in the lounge.

  She survived Sirius but had doubts that her mother would have lived long enough to see her return. Gene therapy made that happen, despite the sixty-eight-year gap, only to discover she died right as she awoke from stasis.

  The pain of sorrow burned hard in her chest, long enough to blacken it. Blackened like the void of space above the horizon of Earth that she stared off into via the observation window.

  She pondered which of the billions of stars out there, was the home system of the invaders.

  13 Foster

  UNE military Cemetery

  Paris, Earth, Sol system

  August 6, 2118, 14:02 SST (Sol Standard Time)

  Highly dressed UNE navy personnel led by Mathilda Chevallier marched in unison past a large crowd of onlookers. News reporters stood with camera drones hovering next to their heads as they televised the tearful event that was unfolding. The navy personnel wearing faultless white gloves carried a casket draped with the UNE flag. Inside the casket were the remains of Admiral Agatha Chevallier. Foster stood, wearing a black dress, along with Williams and the rest of the Carl Sagan crew to pay their respects to the great admiral who unknown to them at the time, sacrificed her ship and crew to protect the Carl Sagan.

  Chang stood with his fellow navy personnel, and they all saluted as the casket moved past. The President of Earth, Lance Anderson, arrived to pay his respects when the casket arrived at the intended grave. President And
erson placed his hands upon the casket, then took to the podium to give his eulogy. Foldout chairs gave Foster and attendees a place to sit amongst the well maintained green grass in the cemetery. Gravestones of fallen UNE military personnel born in France sprung up in the distance.

  Captain Martin Xavier took the podium later and gave a touching speech about the admiral. He highlighted her lengthy career in France’s navy before the creation of the UNE, surviving the Empire’s invasion of Earth, and then rising to become one of the most talked about captains in the new UNE navy. He talked about how she came to his rescue at the battle of Titan, and then later came to the rescue of his adopted daughter, Jessica Davis, when their convoy came under attack by the Empire. Agatha served the navy diligently while never forgetting about her daughter, Mathilda, who slept on the Carl Sagan which, at the time, was still en route to Sirius.

  After an emotional twenty-one-gun salute, the casket was slowly lowered into its final resting place to the sound of bagpipes. Flowers floated down onto the casket while Chevallier stood with an emotionless look on her face and a fist full of the earth. She held it above the sunken casket and then released it, officially commencing the burial of her mother.

  The grey skies released small droplets of rain upon the onlookers. Tears from the heavens, tears that mixed in with the ones that dripped from Foster’s eyes.

  The ceremony ended, well at least for Foster, thousands had been killed in the last few days, and there were many more funerals like this to be held. Chevallier stood alone, her face never turning away from the grave of her fallen mother, unfazed by the fact the rain had picked up in intensity.

  Foster stood next to her, offering a place under her umbrella. “I’m sorry for your loss—”

  Chevallier grunted and shoved her way past Foster.

  “I know what it’s like to lose a parent,” Foster called out her.

  Chevallier stopped, clenched her fists, and faced Foster. “You don’t know what this is like!”