SECTOR 64: Ambush (46 page)

Closing his eyes, he braced for the end.

A brilliant light shone through his eyelids.

"Abort, abort, abort!" Colonel Newcastle screamed. He hammered his missile's self-destruct button.

"Commander Yaakov, abort your missile!" It was useless. The asteroid was blocking his radio's line of site.

Newcastle's weapon flashed. Horror shifted to hope as the non-nuclear detonation of its explosives shredded the missile's components.

"Commander Yaakov, please reply—"

Just as the shattered remnants of his bunker buster splashed across the alien bridge, a brilliant flash blossomed from the ship-remnant's far side, casting the profile of the beast's visage in a macabre silhouette. To Zach's immense relief, the conflagration faded just as quickly.

Striking both sides simultaneously, burning missile debris splashed ineffectually across the ship-remnant's small forcefields.

A moment later, Yaakov's fighter darted from behind the asteroid and Zach's radio sparked to life. The Russian Commander's voice was full of dread. "We failed, comrade."

Confused, Colonel Newcastle stared at his radio.

Before he could reply, Yaakov continued. "This time, our missiles didn't punch through. The aliens found some way to activate its self-destruct."

Now Zach was truly confused. "I thought you self-destructed it."

"Me? No, Colonel. Why would I do that?"

A new voice joined the discussion. "No, Colonel. That was me," said an unfamiliar female voice. "Now, sir, if you don't mind. Could you please go get my boyfriend off that goddamned rock."

***

A roar followed the bright light.
I shouldn't have heard that. It should've been flash, then blaring trumpets and pearly gates.

Jake opened his eyes. He and Richard faced each other, wide-eyed.

"Holy shit!" Richard said.

"We're alive!" Jake screamed. He grabbed Rich, crushing him in a bear hug.

"Easy there," he said grimacing, a hand to his ribs.

"Sorry." Jake set him back down. "I can't believe it worked."

"You're a genius," Richard said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You're the one that gave me the idea."

"Huh?"

"I was actually singing the Johnny Cash version of
Hurt
."

Richard looked more confused. "How hard did that fucker hit you?"

Jake shook his head and smiled. "When you mentioned Nine Inch Nails, I pictured their famous acronym. It's my favorite three letter palindrome."

"Palindrome?"

"Yeah, it's the same forward or backward."

Comprehension blossomed on his face. Nodding, he said, "Just like SOS."

"I just added
Save.
You called it
Our Ship
."

"Still, the idea to use our suit lights to send an SOS was a stroke of genius."

Both captains jumped as something flashed in Jake's portal. Seeing its source, they erupted into relieved laughter.

Two sleek Vampire Attack fighters floated outside, one rhythmically flashing its landing lights.

Jake read the code: S-T-A-T-U-S.

He tapped out a quick reply on his suit lamp:
Ship secure. All enemy KIA.
After a brief pause, he added:
Croft KIA. Will find exit and report from Turtle. Over.

After a moment, Newcastle's fighter started flashing again.

Jake read it out loud: "GOOD JOB MEN. STANDING BY."

"Vampire Six, this is Turtle One, over."

A relieved voice greeted them. "Turtle One, thank god. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever find a way out. What's your status?"

Physically and mentally exhausted, Jake dropped into the chair rising from the ship's floor. "Mission complete, sir. There was only one alien left alive. He's been … terminated."

"Outstanding work, gentlemen! I'm proud of you."

Jake shook his head. "No, sir. I lost a man in there. I should've—"

"Son, we've all lost friends today. I know it's especially hard when it's someone under your command."

"Yes, sir. I just keep thinking that if I would've done things a little different, maybe Lieutenant Croft would still be alive."

"We are our own worst critics—it's a commander's burden—but you'll be the only voice of doubt. In the face of impossible odds, you and your team prevailed. Had you done anything different, that outcome could've been jeopardized."

"Thank you, sir," Jake said. Looking at Victor's shrouded corpse, he silently hoped the colonel's words might one day allow a measure of self-forgiveness.

"The world owes you all a great debt of gratitude. Unfortunately, you'll have to wait a while to cash it in."

Jake and Richard exchanged confused glances.

"I'm placing both of you under my command. Welcome to the First Space Fighter Squadron, or as we're called by the few that know of us, Vampire Attack."

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.

"I have assignments for both of you. What's your physical condition? Did you sustain injuries during your engagement?"

Jake looked at Richard and received a thumbs-up.

Aside from a couple of cracked ribs, bumps and bruises, they had emerged from the battle relatively unscathed.

Jake nodded and keyed the mic. "Nothing we can't work through, sir."

"Okay, here's what we're looking at. As I see it, our first two priorities are securing the Argonian fleet and gathering sufficient pilots and commanders to staff it."

"Yes, sir," Jake agreed.

"The fleet is still drifting apart. Some of the ships are getting dangerously close to entering the atmosphere. They won't burn up. They're not at orbital velocity, but before they start getting scattered by the four winds, we have to find a way onto that main ship."

"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.

"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 nineteen 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."