The Star Cross: The Dark Invaders (12 page)

“Hypermissiles
ineffective,” reported Second Commander Torrel, gazing at the viewscreens in
disbelief. “None of our weapons are penetrating their shields.”

Looking at the
tactical display, Lakor saw the green icons representing his battlecruisers
vanish only to reappear around the black fleet. As soon as their weapons and
shields stabilized, the battlecruisers fired upon the black ships trying to inflict
some damage.

“Jump us back
over Blisth,” Commander Lakor ordered as he thought over the dilemma he was now
in. “I want all ten battleships between the planet and the inbound enemy
fleet.” Every minute of time he bought for Blisth meant thousands of innocent
lives could be saved.

“Our battlecruisers?”

Commander
Lakor turned toward Second Commander Torrel. “Our weapons are ineffective.
We’re not slowing down the enemy much. All battlecruisers are to continue their
attack for thirty more seconds and then jump from the system. There’s no point in
sacrificing them needlessly.” If his ships had been able to cause any
significant damage then they would have remained. As it was, to continue the
battle was pointless.

Lakor felt a
slight dizziness as the flagship suddenly made the short hyperspace jump back
to Blisth.

“Commander,
the black ships are firing black energy spheres toward our battlecruisers.”

“All battlecruisers,
jump now!” ordered Lakor over the comm system, linking him to all of the ships
in his fleet. He greatly feared for the safety of his warships. He had heard
rumors about an unstoppable black energy sphere that was fatal to any ship it
struck. “I want detailed sensor scans of those energy spheres. I want to know
what they’re made of, and the strength of the explosion if and when they strike
any of our battlecruisers.”

On the main viewscreen,
he could see the spheres of black energy hurtling toward his battlecruisers.
Small discharges of energy were visible around the periphery of the weapons.
Just as the battlecruisers began to vanish into hyperspace, the weapons smashed
into the screens of those in the process of jumping, paralyzing the ships. The
black energy seemed to spread across the screen as if it were alive. There were
no explosions!

“Those spheres
are some type of black antimatter,” reported the sensor operator, shaking his
head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen it in this form before.”

“The black
antimatter is preventing our remaining battlecruisers from entering
hyperspace,” Second Commander Torrel reported as he listened to frantic reports
coming in from the stricken ships. “It’s siphoning the power from the energy
shields and causing some type of interference that won’t allow our
battlecruisers to activate their hyperdrives.”

Commander
Lakor knew, by jumping his battleships when he did, he had spared them this
fate. “How many of our battlecruisers managed to jump into hyperspace?”

“Only eighteen,”
replied Second Commander Torrel, his face turning ashen. “Many of the remaining
ships are reporting their shields are down, and power is fading.”

“So this is
how they’ve destroyed the fleets which came up against them.” Commander Lakor
knew he had no real choice about what to do now. “Contact Space Control on
Blisth, and tell them all cargo ships and passenger liners must leave now,
whether they’re fully loaded or not.”

“Black ships
are firing missiles,” warned the sensor operator.

On the
tactical display, the green icons representing the powerless Andock battlecruisers
began rapidly to expand and vanish, On the viewscreens, bright flashes of light
indicated the detonations of the black ships’ small antimatter missiles and
dying Andock warships.

Commander
Lakor sat in silence as he watched his fleet die. Many of the commanding
officers on those vessels he had known for years.

“The black
ships are coming straight toward us,” the sensor operator said nervously. “I
estimate they’ll be in weapons range in less than four minutes.”

Commander
Lakor let out a deep and regretful sigh. He had reached a decision counter to
his orders. “All battleships, jump to Haycort Seven. We’ll rendezvous there and
decide upon our next course of action.”

“What about
Blisth?” asked Second Commander Torrel. “It’s our sworn duty to protect it.”

“We can’t protect
it,” uttered Commander Lakor, his shoulders drooping. “We can do nothing to
slow the advance of the black ships. It’s best for us to flee and report back
to Andock Prime with what we have learned here. Perhaps our scientists can come
up with a way to protect our ships from the black antimatter. If they can’t,
then I fear our galaxy and all of its races are doomed.”

-

Moments later
the ten Andock battleships vanished into hyperspace just as the black fleet
entered weapons range. On board the Vorn mothership, the Vorn military commander
watched as his prey disappeared from the large holographic tactical display.
The
enemy has fled
, he thought, turning toward a Vorn prince, a member of the
Royal Caste, who only traveled on the huge motherships as they were heavily
armed and protected with an impenetrable shield of energy.

They
detected us somehow
, the prince thought back. By focusing, the Vorn could
make other Vorn hear their thoughts, a form of telepathic projection. It could
be directionally aimed at one individual or a general projection that all Vorn
in the fleet could understand.

It is
unfortunate
, the military commander said.
Now they will know the weapons
our ships are equipped with
.

Not all of
them
, the prince replied.
We have not used some of our more powerful
ones upon their ships
.

The military
commander nodded his agreement. Time to move upon the planet and secure its
abundant food source.

-

As the black
ships neared the planet, powerful energy beams flashed out, blowing escaping
passenger liners and cargo ships into glowing wreckage that fell back toward
the planet. The three orbital stations were all annihilated in bright flashes
of light as antimatter hypermissiles blasted them into drifting wreckage.

On the surface,
the populace fled the spaceports, seeking shelter in the tall, slender buildings,
which rose up nearly a kilometer into the bright blue sky. From communication
centers across the planet, frantic pleas for help were broadcast on all known
FTL frequencies. However, the black ships had blocked all channels, ensuring
their cries were not heard.

The black
mothership moved closer to the planet, and fourteen large hatches slid open.
From each a black ray flashed forth to strike the surface of the planet below.
Wherever it struck any usable organic material, it was transformed and
transported to the ship. As a black beam swept across an inhabited city, all
its inhabitants were transformed into a black ashy substance, which the beam
sucked up.

For several hours,
the mothership orbited the planet with the deadly beams covering every square
kilometer of the land’s surface and its deep oceans. Even in the seas, fish and
other sea creatures were transformed, and their substance beamed up to the mothership.
At last, when the final usable organism had been transformed, the beams shut
off. Not a single bird flew in the sky; not a single animal roamed the land,
and all the cities were lifeless.

From the orbiting
black cruisers, spheres of white energy fell toward the now empty cities on the
surface of the planet. Wherever a white energy sphere struck, it burst like a
bubble, spreading out across the land. Buildings collapsed, and other structures
burned as the slowly spreading energy ravaged the surface. When it finally died
out, all that remained of the targeted city was smoking rubble and ruins. Not a
single structure was undamaged. The same destruction occurred numerous times across
the entire planet, annihilating all visages of a civilized culture.

-

On board the mothership,
the prince had watched expectantly as the tractor beams inside the black rays brought
the converted organic substance into the mothership and fed it into the convertors.
The convertors classified the different organic components and then changed
them into the appropriate food for each of the castes.

The prince
walked over and pressed a button on a small control panel. Instantly a receptacle
slid open, and a gray pellet in the form of a small cube was ejected onto a
tray. The prince took the pellet and popped it into his mouth, crunching the
pellet with his mandibles and feeling the invigorating strength that instantly
flowed through him. This pellet was made from the organic material of one of
the civilized inhabitants of the planet they had just culled. Gray pellets were
for the Royal Caste and the other privileged few; black cubes were for the
Military Caste, and finally the brown cubes were for the Working Caste. Each
cube would provide sustenance for a full day—or two days if necessary—without
the Vorn experiencing any hunger pains.

Time for us
to rendezvous with a Collector Ship
, the prince thought toward the ship’s
military commander.
When we return, we will bring more of our brethren. This
galaxy is once more ripe for a full culling
.

-

In space, the
black ships jumped into hyperspace, their mission complete. This galaxy was
once more full of civilizations that were a prime food source for the Vorn.
Behind them, they left a shattered and nearly dead world. The Vorn would show
no mercy, nor expect any. Since coming to this universe from their own, they
had decided long ago that no civilized race would be spared which could ever
threaten the Vorn. The Destroyers of Worlds had returned to the galaxy, and they
were hungry.

Fleet Admiral
Kurt Vickers was in his quarters, studying the contract Controller Nirron had
filed on behalf of Newton. Kurt was still mystified why two small sectors of
space consisting of only a few stars had been included. One was 460 light-years
from Newton, and the other was nearly 600 light-years away. One thing they both
had in common, they were farther out in the Orion Arm than Newton was. It also
suggested these two small sectors might not have been visited by any of the
Profiteer clans. Kurt was well aware the Profiteers considered this section of
the Orion Arm to be a backwater area as the star density was far less than those
farther inward.

Since
Controller Nirron worked for Lomatz, Kurt suspected the weapons dealer had
something to do with including these two sectors. Kurt strongly suspected there
was a lot more to the arms dealer than Lomatz let on. Once the fleet returned
to Newton, it might be a good idea to send some ships out to explore both of
these regions just to see what Lomatz was hiding or wanted Kurt to find. Every
time he went to Kubitz, it seemed as if he came back with more questions than
answers.

It would be four
more days before they reached home. Kurt was still coming to grips with Keera’s
brother and his girlfriend returning with them. Keera had told Kurt everything
her brother had told her about the black ships and the secret meetings going on
in the Gothan Empire. It pretty well matched what Dolman had said. There was no
doubt in his mind that the empire was preparing for war.

Reaching
forward, Kurt activated the computer screen on his desk. After touching a few icons,
Kurt pulled up the defensive grid that surrounded Newton. Numerous violet symbols
surrounded the planet. Newton Station was the largest, followed by the Class
Two Command and Control Center for the sixteen Orbital Defense Platforms. There
were also sixty-four defensive satellites armed with dual-firing energy
turrets. On the surface of Newton were eight large Planetary Defense Centers. Twelve
of the defensive satellites were most likely going to Julbian to bolster that
planet’s defenses.

He had tried
to purchase more while at Kubitz, but the order had been turned down due to an unusually
high demand for them and production schedules at the orbital construction
stations. Dolman hadn’t been surprised when Kurt had mentioned the failure to
purchase more of the powerful defense satellites. The black marketeer had
promised to look into it and see if some of his contacts could wrangle the satellites
for Newton. Dolman had casually mentioned the cost for obtaining the satellites
this way would run about 40 percent more. With reluctance, Kurt had agreed. Newton needed the satellites, as did Earth and Julbian.

“Is that
enough?” he said aloud, thinking of this new and mysterious enemy, attacking
the Enlightened Worlds. Kurt was also very concerned about the mysterious ships
Fleet Admiral Tomalson had detected in the outer regions of the Solar System. If
these were Profiteer ships, as Dolman had claimed, then High Profiteer Creed
could be considering another attack. As weak as Earth was now, they would be
helpless against a determined attack by the Profiteers. He wanted to put at
least a dozen more of the defensive satellites around Earth to augment its
defenses. Just maybe that would be enough to keep the Profiteers away.

Once he
returned to Newton, he planned to send two battlecruisers, a light carrier, three
light cruisers, and four cargo ships back to Kubitz to pick up the defensive
satellites he hoped Dolman would procure. Kurt doubted if he could purchase any
more of the large Orbital Defense Platforms due to the Profiteers’ own fear of
the black ships, but Kurt did want as many of the smaller defensive satellites
as he could get. They also needed to somehow speed up the transfer of colonists
from Earth. Newton’s population wasn’t big enough to fight a major war against
an established enemy, particularly one not worried about their profit margin.

-

“What did you
do on Kubitz?” Keera asked Meesa, while they sat with her brother in the main
lounge of the
Newton Princess
. Keera was curious as to this woman’s background
since her brother seemed so infatuated with her and who looked to be six or
seven years younger than Dalen.

The girl
looked questioningly at Dalen, a deep flush spreading across her face. She
seemed embarrassed, as if she didn’t know how to answer the question.

“It’s all right,”
said Dalen, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I trust Keera. She worked at
several of the medical centers there and knows what goes on. She won’t be
shocked by anything you say.”

Meesa took a
deep breath and nodded. “I worked for a while at a trading shop, where we sold
off-world products, but the pay was so bad I couldn’t afford my apartment or
even proper clothes. I tried to find a roommate to help with the bills, but
that didn’t work out. My best friend worked at the Newland Pleasure House and
suggested I apply for work there.”

Keera’s eyes
widened. She had heard this story before while working at the medical centers.
Many young girls out on their own turned to the pleasure houses to supplement
their income. It was a sad story but part of the accepted culture on Kubitz.
Working at a pleasure house, in most instances, paid very well.

“How long did
you work there?” asked Keera.

“Six months,”
Meesa answered timidly. “I made enough to make my rent, buy some really nice
clothes, and even a vehicle. Then I met Dalen.” Her eyes shifted to him, and he
smiled encouragingly.

“Let me
guess,” said Keera, shifting her gaze to her brother, who looked at the floor.
“He came to the pleasure house as one of your clients.”

Meesa nodded,
tears in her eyes. “Dalen talked me into quitting my job. At the Newland
Pleasure House many of the girls worked month long contracts, which they could
either renew or cancel. I canceled mine and moved in with Dalen. He got me a
job working as an inventory clerk for the Profiteer clan he was associated
with. It paid decently—a lot more than what I made at the trading store.”

Keera looked
from one to the other. “You both need to understand that the planet we’re going
to is nothing like Kubitz. Newton has no Profiteer clans and no pleasure houses.
The people even walk about on the streets unarmed.”

“Unarmed?”
gasped Dalen, his eyes widening in disbelief. “What’s to stop them from being
robbed?”

“Crime is
almost unknown on Newton,” Keera explained. “A police force is responsible for
maintaining the laws set forth by the planet’s government. They’re nothing like
the Enforcers on Kubitz.”

“Everything
sounds so different. What will we do on Newton?” asked Meesa. “Will we be forced
to live in poverty?”

Keera recognized
the fear in Meesa’s eyes. She had seen it often enough on Kubitz. “Don’t worry.
I’m sure I can arrange jobs for both of you. Newton has a booming economy, and
there’s virtually no unemployment. Our biggest problem right now is building
enough housing for all the colonists coming to live on Newton. It’s a beautiful
world, and I think both of you will find it far different from anything you’ve
encountered before.”

“No black market?”
asked Dalen unbelievably. “There’s always a black market of some type.”

Keera looked
suspiciously at her brother. “No, there’s no black market, and, while you’re
living on Newton, you will not be involved in anything unlawful. Am I clear
enough on that?”

“Yes,” answered
Dalen, nodding his head. “I’m just trying to understand how the planet works.”

Leaning back
in her chair, Keera considered her next words carefully. “There’s a library on
this ship. I would suggest you both check out some audiobooks that will teach
you about Newton. Your translators will easily convert the words into something
you can understand.”

Keera had
provided both Dalen and Meesa with the small egg-shaped translators, which hung
from their necks so they could understand what other people said on the ship.
In time, they would be expected to learn the language spoken on Newton, which was Earth-normal English.

-

Back on Earth,
President Mayfield had just finished a tumultuous meeting with his Cabinet. In
a highly contested vote, Secretary of Labor Marlen Stroud’s request to have
Fleet Admiral Vickers arrested and court-martialed had failed by the narrowest
of margins. Mayfield had been deeply concerned when the votes had been tallied,
the measure failed by an eight-to-six margin.

A previous
measure by Stroud to have Governor Spalding removed from office had also
failed. Both votes had resulted in a lot of arguing and finger-pointing by
different Cabinet members. Of course if either measure had passed, Mayfield
would have vetoed it immediately. It was the third time Stroud had introduced
the two measures, and this was by far the closest vote. It greatly concerned
Mayfield that Stroud had gained more support from the other Cabinet members.

Currently
President Mayfield, Fleet Admiral Tomalson, and General Braid sat in Mayfield’s
office, discussing the meeting.

“That damn
Stroud and his supporters will be a problem,” muttered General Braid, standing
up and walking to a small bar, where he poured himself a stiff shot of whiskey.
He downed it and turned around to face the other two. “We should have taken him
out and had him shot when he returned from Newton.”

Tomalson shook
his head. “That would make us no better than him.”

“We still have
a slight majority on the Cabinet who support us,” Mayfield reminded the other
two. “I can always veto any measure Stroud or his cronies pass if I have to.”

“For now,”
commented the general. “But what happens after the next election? We may all
find ourselves out of a job.”

Mayfield knew
General Braid was right. His popularity was at an all-time low, with calls to
move up the election due to the current state of the North American Union and
the rest of the world. Over eighty million people had died as a result of the
Profiteers’ nuclear warheads, which had exploded on numerous cities across the planet
during the Profiteer invasion. The first warheads had fallen when the
Profiteers arrived and then a final barrage had been launched as they left.

“We may have
to move on the Newton independence issue sooner than I’d thought,” Mayfield
said with a deep sigh. “Right now we have the votes to pass it. If we wait much
longer, that could change.”

“It’ll be very
unpopular with the voters,” Admiral Tomalson said. “Newton is considered to be
the North American Union’s shining colony. It’s the only habitable world we’ve
ever discovered. To give it up will result in repercussions, both politically
and militarily.”

“I’ve spoken
to the leaders of the European Union and the Russian Collective,” Mayfield
said. “And they’re both aware of what I plan to do. As soon as I make the
announcement, they’ll sign trade agreements with Newton as well as recognizing
the planet as an independent entity.”

“What about
the Chinese Conglomerate?”

Mayfield shook
his head. “They’ve agreed to remain silent. They greatly fear that, if we grant
Newton its independence, the Chinese colonies on the moons of Saturn may
demand the same.”

“They’re not
self-sustaining,” pointed out Admiral Tomalson. “They still rely heavily on
supplies from Earth for many of their basic necessities.”

“I think,”
Mayfield said, “the Chinese fear just the thought of possible independence may cause
problems on their colonies. They’ve asked me to hold off announcing Newton’s independence for as long as possible.”

“How much
longer can we wait?” asked Braid. “Stroud is working on several other Cabinet
members, trying to sway their opinion. He has some very powerful connections,
and he’s not hesitating to use them.”

Mayfield stood
up and walked to the large window, overlooking the ruins of Washington, DC. The radiation was gone, thanks to the chemicals and a dust they had purchased from
Kubitz. Tall cranes were visible everywhere as the capital was being rapidly
rebuilt.

“Two weeks,”
Mayfield answered as he turned around. “In two weeks I’ll submit a measure
requesting we grant Newton its independence. If it fails, I’ll do it by an
Executive Order.”

Fleet Admiral
Tomalson nodded, knowing when that announcement was made, all hell would break
loose. He also knew the future of the people on Earth resided not in the Solar System
but on Newton and with Fleet Admiral Kurt Vickers.

-

A few hours
later Fleet Admiral Tomalson climbed rapidly through the Earth’s turbulent
atmosphere in a shuttle on his way to his flagship, the
Retribution
, a battleship
purchased from Kubitz and then updated at Newton Station. The
Retribution
was 1,100 meters in length and 220 meters in width, it was the most powerful
ship Tomalson had ever commanded.

“We’ll rendezvous
with the
Retribution
in twenty minutes,” the pilot informed the admiral.

Tomalson
nodded as he looked out the small viewport next to him. In the distance, he
could see the ruins of Earth’s former shipyard. He had pushed for its
rebuilding but had been blocked by Secretary of Labor Stroud as a waste of
resources. Why spend all the money to rebuild the station when they could purchase
completed warships from Kubitz? The only problem with that was all requests to
purchase additional warships had been blocked by Stroud and his group.

Rumors were
that the Chinese Conglomerate was considering building a shipyard to construct
their own warships. Some speculation was circulating that the Chinese Conglomerate,
the Russian Collective, along with the European Union, were preparing to send a
mission to Kubitz to see about purchasing a small fleet to protect their
interests. Tomalson didn’t like the idea of others traveling to the Profiteer
world, but, if it would add more ships to protect the Solar System, then he could
accept it.