by Ken Lozito
The CDF soldiers became grim-faced and determined.
“We focus on what we can do, and don’t be afraid to think of the worst scenarios you can come up with as long as you concentrate on the solution to those scenarios. The Vemus are bringing an invasion force. Given the sheer size of the enemy ship, we have to find the weak spots. We have to be smarter than our enemy. That’s the only way we’re going to survive,” Nathan said. He waited a few moments. “Now get back to work. The colony and our fellow CDF soldiers are depending on us. We will not let them down.”
The soldiers in the command area returned to their posts, and Major Shelton came over to stand by his side.
“Sir, I must apologize. If you want to relieve me of command I will understand,” Major Shelton said.
“I’m not relieving you, Major. We have a job to do. All of us. As commanding officers, the burden is on us to remain steadfast and hold to our orders even when we don’t have all the information,” Nathan said.
“I won’t let you down again, Colonel,” Major Shelton said.
Nathan leaned toward her so no one else could hear him. “I’m just as scared as you are,” he admitted.
A small smile appeared on Major Shelton’s face. “I’m glad you’re here, Colonel. With your permission, I’d like to broadcast what you’ve said to the rest of the base. I think it will be good for them to hear it.”
Nathan considered the request for a few moments. “Permission granted.”
Major Shelton left him and went over to the ops station.
“Colonel, I’ve just received a message from Captain Walker,” Sergeant Boers said.
Nathan walked over to the comms workstation. “What have you got, Sergeant?”
“They’ve found the salvage team, but there are Vemus forces keeping them pinned down. Captain Walker is requesting backup-team deployment, sir,” Sergeant Boers said.
Nathan’s eyes widened. The fact that they’d found the salvage team in all that wreckage was a monumental feat, but Vemus soldiers being aboard one of the wrecks was a sobering thought. He’d thought they’d all be dead by now.
“Sir?” Sergeant Boers asked.
“Acknowledged receipt of the message, Sergeant. Do not send a reply,” Nathan said and hated having to say it.
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Boers said, her voice sounding thick and constrained. “Sir, can’t we send Captain Walker backup?”
Nathan’s mouth went dry. “No,” he replied solemnly.
Sergeant Boers opened her mouth to speak.
“You have your orders, Sergeant,” Nathan replied sternly.
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Boers muttered and turned back to her workstation.
Even though Nathan was following orders, he still couldn’t escape the feeling that he was abandoning soldiers under his command. It would be such an easy thing for him to order another combat shuttle with reinforcements. There would be no shortage of volunteers should he ask for them. Nathan glanced over at the operations work area with an almost wistful urge to do just that, but he squelched the urge almost as suddenly as he felt it. He would not disobey his orders. Captain Walker and his crew were on their own. He hated it, but given what they were about to face, he had to believe it was the right call.
Chapter Thirteen
The CDF soldiers on Phoenix Station worked at an accelerated rate, preparing for the Vemus Alpha. Authorization for the use of stimulants had been given, but it was a narrow line to walk. Connor had sent out an advisory to all officers reminding them to rotate their crews, allowing a soldier to work only two extra shifts before rotation was mandatory. It was difficult for any of them to rest, even when off duty.
Connor entered a small conference room where Colonel Cross and Major Elder were already sitting. Connor went to one of the unoccupied chairs and sat down with Major Quinn, who came to sit at Connor’s side.
A holoscreen was powered on in the middle of the conference table, and a comms channel was opened that connected them to CDF headquarters in Sierra. They were greeted with a view of a small conference room occupied by Governor Tobias Quinn, Director of CDF Operations Franklin Mallory, Director of Field Operations Damon Mills, and Captain Juan Diaz of the CDF Infantry Division.
Connor was glad Tobias hadn’t brought the rest of the colonial defense committee into this meeting.
“Just so we’re on the same page,” Connor began, “this will be our final meeting before we engage with the Vemus Alpha ship. From here on out we’ll send data bursts that will contain any intelligence gathered about the enemy, as well as our own analysis of our engagements with the enemy.”
“That’s clear, Connor. Just one question. Why isn’t Colonel Hayes patched into this meeting?” Tobias asked.
“Lunar Base remains in comms blackout,” Connor replied.
“But shouldn’t—” Tobias began and then stopped himself. Franklin Mallory leaned over and spoke into Tobias’s ear, and the governor nodded. “Never mind. Franklin has just reminded me. Please continue.”
Over the next hour, Connor laid out the plan they’d come up with for engaging the Vemus Alpha. Connor couldn’t remember planning a more complex operation in his entire career, nor could he remember learning about one in history. The militaries of Earth hadn’t had to face a singular enemy like what the colony was about to.
Connor watched the holoscreen and saw Tobias take a sip of his coffee before responding. “I just want to make sure I understand this on a high level. Once this Vemus Alpha crosses Sagan’s line, you’ll begin firing our missiles at them?”
“This is not a simple point-and-shoot exercise. That’s only one facet of the plan—”
“I trust you, Connor,” Tobias said. “I know you’ve picked over this plan of yours eight ways till midnight . . . or is it Sunday?” Tobias frowned. “I can’t remember. What I want you to know is that we’re not going to pick apart your plan. You have our support and gratitude.”
“On behalf of Phoenix Station, we appreciate it,” Connor said. They’d traveled a long road to get here, and on the eve of what would ultimately become the defining moment in human existence, they had to trust each other.
“I would like a few moments to speak with you alone,” Tobias said.
Connor nodded and looked over at the others, but they had already risen from their seats and were starting to leave the room. Sean paused to take one last look at the holoscreen. His father gave him a firm nod, and Sean followed the others out.
Connor saw that the committee members had left the conference room on New Earth and Tobias was also alone.
“What’s your state of readiness?” Connor asked.
Tobias sighed. “We’re still moving people to various bunkers throughout the continent and to Sanctuary. Anyone who can hold a gun has been armed, and we’ve been training them as best we can.”
“But they’re not soldiers,” Connor said.
Tobias shook his head. “No, they’re not, but they have a right to fight for their survival.”
“You’re right; they do,” Connor said and debated in his mind whether to be completely honest with Tobias about their chances.
“I need you to do something for me,” Tobias said.
“What do you need me to do?” Connor asked.
“Level with me. What are the odds of this plan of yours stopping the Vemus?”
Connor drew in a breath. “We’ll hit them hard. We’ll make them bleed, but I don’t know if we can stop them. That ship is the biggest thing we’ve ever seen. We’re not even sure how it works. In theory, the Vemus are able to absorb other spaceships and this could be the result of that, but without knowing how thick the exoskeletal hull is, we can’t be sure exactly how much damage our weapons will do. That’s why we hope to hit them by surprise.”
Tobias nodded. “With an extremely narrow margin of error.”
“Some of the things we’re doing here were only theoretical in the NA Alliance military—things like completely replacing how we do secure
communications and command-and-control units that make even the thought of targeting missiles flying at point-four c’s of light-speed possible. I could keep going, and I know you could do the same,” Connor said.
Tobias leaned back in his chair. “The Ark was supposed to be our escape from Earth, a way to begin anew without all the historical conflicts dogging our footsteps. We brought the best and the brightest with us. Admiral Wilkinson snuck you and the rest of the Ghosts aboard the Ark in order to escape injustice, and I understand his motives for doing so. What I didn’t anticipate was how essential you and Wil Reisman and Kasey Douglass would be to our survival. Given what I know now, I believe none of us would even be here if it weren’t for you. We’d have fought and cobbled something together for our defense, but it wouldn’t have been the Colonial Defense Force. That was your gift to this colony, and no matter how this turns out, I thank you. My son has become his own man in no small part due to your influence. I’m proud of him . . . and of you.”
Connor felt a small lump growing in the back of his throat. The path that had led Sean Quinn to join the CDF had always been a point of silent contention between Connor and Tobias.
“Sean earned his place. He’s proven himself time and time again,” Connor said.
“I know he did,” Tobias said knowingly. “I think that’s one of the reasons he’s stuck by you—the fact that he’s my and Ashley’s son held no sway with you.”
Connor nodded and watched as Tobias seemed to be deciding whether to say something else. It was a question Connor had anticipated and was something any parent had a right to ask, knowing their child was going to be in imminent danger.
The moment passed and Tobias didn’t ask Connor anything.
“I’ll send Sean in to speak with you,” Connor said at last.
Tobias swallowed hard. “Thank you,” he said, his voice sounding thick.
“Good luck. Send my love to Ashley,” Connor said.
“I will. You take care, Connor.”
Connor rose from his seat and headed for the door. Once outside the conference room, he motioned for Sean to go back inside. Connor closed the door, having no desire to hear what father and son had to say to one another. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; it was that he cared too much. Connor only knew what his own son looked like and had a sense of the man he’d become. But thoughts of his son still brought a deep, powerful pang of guilt. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself no matter what anyone said. Connor glanced at the conference room door for a moment before walking away.
Colonel Cross and Major Elder walked with him back to the Command Center, where they entered and went to their stations.
“General,” Captain Caleb Thorne said, “we’re ready to execute operation Tip of the Spear on your command.”
Connor looked up at the PRADIS screen. The Vemus Alpha was approaching Sagan’s line and would cross it within the next few hours. They had to launch now to get their missiles and command-and-control units in place.
“Do it,” Connor said and used his neural implants to send his authorization codes.
Phoenix Station had secondary and tertiary computing cores, and the station was designed to be able to maintain operational effectiveness even if the subsections broke apart. Connor watched as Captain Thorne executed Connor’s orders. HADES IV-B missiles were launched from missile tubes along Phoenix Station’s superstructure. The missiles would cluster into groups, going to their preconfigured coordinates before heading to the main objective.
Connor’s mind raced as he thought of all the possible outcomes of his actions. They’d come up with this plan as a team, but Connor was the one who gave the order. The responsibility fell squarely upon his shoulders. He had trouble believing their attack would simply do nothing to the Vemus Alpha, but it was a possibility. The best-case scenario was that they would soften up the Vemus Alpha’s outer layers so when it attacked them, the remaining weapons on Phoenix Station would continue to tear apart that ship until there was nothing left.
A countdown timer appeared in the upper right corner of the main holoscreen. The pieces were moving into place and soon the attack would begin. The colony was as ready as it would ever be. Anyone left in the cities was there to fight. Noncombatants had been moved to secure locations.
“Tactical, prep data dump for broadcast,” Connor said.
“Yes, sir. Ready to send on your command,” Captain Thorne replied.
“Send it, and I want the scheduled dumps to occur more frequently now that our missiles are in the air,” Connor ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Captain Thorne replied.
At least they could keep Lunar Base in the fold as much as possible. Connor knew Nathan Hayes would follow his orders, but being kept in the dark would wear away on anyone’s resolve, and the fact that they were fighting for their very survival would only compound the tension. He’d put Nathan in command of Lunar Base because Nathan believed in the mission. He wouldn’t blindly follow orders, and it would take someone with a strong belief in what they were doing to carry out the difficult task Connor had set out for them.
Major Quinn entered the command area and walked toward Connor, coming to a halt at his side.
“Thank you, sir,” Sean said.
“You’re very welcome, Major,” Connor replied.
Together they watched as the CDF soldiers who manned their posts in the various work areas of Phoenix Station executed their duties, all while the Vemus Alpha drew steadily closer, coming toward them like some inescapable leviathan with a purpose none of them really understood. Connor looked around at the CDF soldiers performing their duties. They were rolling the dice. What happened afterward they would deal with, but right now they were committed to a course of action. Connor’s gaze came to a stop on the Vemus Alpha image on the PRADIS screen, and he clenched his teeth.
“Sometimes you have to roll the hard six, sir,” Major Quinn said, speaking so only Connor heard him.
“You’ve got that right,” Connor said.
There was no turning back now.
Chapter Fourteen
Noah had only been at Sanctuary for a few days and he hated it. He was supposed to help with the alien power station they had here and somehow adapt its output for the colossus cannon. A short while ago he’d received news that Lunar Base was in comms blackout, which meant he couldn’t communicate with his wife. The last he’d heard from her was a prerecorded message that was to be sent down from Lunar Base personnel if Dark-Star status was authorized. Well it was, and now he was out of touch with the most important person in his life. He hated this. Maybe he should steal a ship and head to Lunar Base.
Sanctuary was the largest refugee camp for colonists to hide from the Vemus threat. Its location on the continent put it far more remote than any of the small cities they’d built. Sierra was the only true city, and was the most heavily populated, but Haven and Delphi were a distant second and third. The colony government had put time and resources into building bunkers and temporary housing away from population centers. They’d targeted areas that were naturally fortified against New Earth predators but could also be hidden from an invasion force. Since Sanctuary was a large alien city built mostly underground, it could easily accommodate tens of thousands of people.
He was working in one of the topside temporary work areas the archaeological teams had put there when it was just them way out in the middle of nowhere. It was one of the few quiet places he’d found where he could get some work done. Adapting an alien power source to their equipment was a simple concept, but it wasn’t easy to actually do.
The door burst open and Lenora stormed inside, her face contorted with lines of anger.
“What’s wrong?” Noah asked.
Lenora swung her gaze toward him, seeming surprised to find him sitting there. The fury in her eyes gained the intensity of one of the tornadoes that used to blaze through this area of the continent until they’d put a couple of storm satellites in the area that used focused micro
waves to prevent the tornadoes from even forming.
“All the damn people here, contaminating the site. We had an area cordoned off because we haven’t had the chance to catalog the artifacts or really study the area. We just marked their locations. And I just found people moving into a group of habitats because they felt crowded in the designated areas and wanted extra space. Kids were running around, playing with artifacts, if you can believe that. Who lets their kids run around and play with things we barely understand?” Lenora said, her tone shrill.
Noah regarded her for a moment, arching his eyebrow.
Lenora glared at him. “Don’t you say it.”
“They’re scared, Lenora.”