Warfare: Rise Of Mankind Book 2 (2 page)

              Clea reclined in her bunk, reading from her tablet. Human literature gave her the best source of education she could hope for. Even spending time amongst them, going about her daily life in their presence didn’t offer as much as one of their celebrated authors. She’d gone through a variety of them, from what they considered classics to dramatic works of the twentieth century, all of them showed the species in many different lights.

              One of her favorites was Stephen King. He rarely painted people positively, focusing instead on their base sides and playing off the horrors dwelling in their hearts and imaginations. She found these books to have a great deal of truth, mostly because the author cast light on the darkest elements of the subconscious mind.

              They also scared her a little and that could be fun too.

              Another author she spent a lot of time with was Charles Dickens. His stories of the nineteenth century Earth gave her a good indication of how their history went. Like King, he could write about the fantastic but ultimately, he focused on the nature of people. Some of them made less sense to her than others and they seemed to be exaggerated but perhaps that’s how human art got the point across.

              She particularly enjoyed the Christmas Carol. Scrooge’s plight made sense to her because Kielan family culture suffered a similar problem. Each of them set out, eager to make a name for themselves and bring glory to their name but they rarely remembered to stop and enjoy the simple pleasures of togetherness, to celebrate life and affection.

              Human holidays in general gave her endless room to study, especially the American inspired ones. Independence Day and Thanksgiving both intrigued her. The history behind them meant a great deal but they’d changed considerably over the years. All of them revolved around food, some healthy, some not so much and while one carried with it explosions, the other bordered on a shopping season.

              History continued to repeat itself in that regard as even years after the consumerist culture gave way to a socialist tendency, people still struggled for fantastic deals on or around the holidays. Kielans did not suffer from a similar bargain hunting mentality. When they celebrated, they spent the time with family. The rarity of them getting together demanded total attention to spending time with their loved ones.

              “Alert,” Everly’s voice boomed throughout the ship, pumped into every room through overhead speakers. “Alert, this is not a drill. We have incoming vessels on Earth trajectory. We are on Ready Thirty. All pilots report to your stations. Repeat, all pilots report to your stations. This is not a drill.”

             
Yes, we got that it’s not a drill, Commander
. Clea stood and pulled on her uniform jacket, buttoning it up. The enemy certainly did not waste time in returning. She couldn’t believe their tenacity. What had humanity done to warrant such dedication to their end? Then again, her own people endured siege from these fiends so it shouldn’t have been entirely surprising.

             
They want what they want and their desires include the end of anything unlike them.

              She left her quarters and headed for the bridge, moving aside as people rushed along around her. The ship proved itself in a major way during the last engagement, their test flight resulting in a massive battle. Each and every soldier aboard proved themselves up to the task of handling advanced technology, exactly what the alliance hoped to see before admitting the human race fully into the fold.

              Along with Protocol Seven, she included that in her report as well.

              On the bridge, Gray and Everly stood next to one another, hovering around Oliver Darnell’s station. They peered at his screen as he tapped away, quietly working under the scrutiny of his two commanding officers. Clea took her seat, content to wait for the information rather than crowd the lieutenant. She knew he had enough on his plate without six eyes burning behind him.

              “Come on, Olly,” Everly urged. “What’s taking so long?”

              “They’re moving quickly, sir but our scans don’t bounce back instantly,” Olly explained. “I’ll have the data compiled any minute, I swear.”

              “We need to know how seriously to take this threat,” Gray said. “Should I be calling the council? Or are these the good guys.”

             
Well, at least they’re thinking the same way I am,
Clea thought.
Chances are good it’s my people. The enemy doesn’t even know they’ve been defeated here yet…I hope.

             
“Captain,” Ensign Abigail White spoke up. “We’re being hailed.”

              “That’s
definitely
not the enemy,” Stephanie said. “Unless they’ve come to their senses and are looking to surrender.”

              “Cut the commentary,” Gray said, turning to the communication’s officer. “Go ahead and put it on speaker.”

              “Earth Ship Behemoth, this is the Crystal Font,” a young man’s voice spoke over the com, succinct and articulate, Clea immediately recognized his tone as one of her own. Inside, she let herself relax but outwardly, she maintained her professional demeanor. “We are on approach to your home planet and request you do not fire upon us. We are with the alliance.”

              The rest of the humans on the bridge all let out a collective sigh of relief. Gray cleared his throat. “Crystal Font, this is Captain Atwell of the Behemoth. Welcome to Earth space and thank you for coming. I assume this has to do with the discovery of Protocol Seven.”

              “Allow me to put my Anthar on the line.” Anthar equated to the Earth title of
Captain
. “He may have more he can add about that.”

              “Are we in range for visual yet?” Gray asked.

              “Aye, sir.” Olly tapped his keys. “And I’ve got their silhouettes now. I’ve confirmed that these are two alliance warships. They’re transmitting as friends.”

              “Put their Anthar on screen.” Gray sat in his chair and leaned forward as a young man, much younger than any commander Clea saw before, appeared. His teal eyes sat above a delicate face, pale blue hair topping his head in thick locks. He offered a grim expression as the connection established.

              “I am Anthar Kale Ru’Xin of the Alliance Navy. We are here on a diplomatic mission to exchange information and discuss an alteration in the treaty our two people have agreed to. Will you grant permission to orbit your planet?”

              “Welcome to Earth, Kale,” Gray said. “You’re more than welcome to orbit the planet. I’ll contact the council and let them know you’ve arrived. Are you in command of these two vessels?”

              “Negative, sir. I am in charge of the Crystal Font. In our military, the junior captain is relegated to routine duties such as establishing communications and gaining authorization for a landing. Please do not take this as an insult. It in no way reflects on how we view the importance of your station or ship.”

              “No offense taken,” Gray replied. “We have Clea An’Tufal on board. Do you have a message for her?”

              Clea stood and stepped in front of the view screen. Emotions coiled within her. She hadn’t seen any of her people in a
very
long time. She smiled and lifted her hand, extending a greeting in her own tongue. “I’m pleased to see people from home.”

              “We have much to discuss, Vinthari An’Tufal. I hope you’ll come aboard when we arrive while arrangements are made for the council meeting.”

              “It would be an honor.” Clea bowed her head briefly.

              “We will be able to orbit your planet in less than six hours. At that time, we will re-establish communications to finalize arrangements. Crystal Font out.”

              The screen went dark and Gray turned to Clea. “I bet you’re excited.”

              Clea nodded emphatically. “More than you know, sir.”

              “It’s been a while. I hope they’ve brought you some news of your family, of home.”

              “They send it along,” Clea replied, “but it’s always so stale by the time it comes. I look forward to speaking to them in person…to seeing some of my people again.”

              “Feel free to spend as much time as you need aboard their ship when they get here,” Gray said. “This type of opportunity may not come again for a long time. Best to take advantage of it while you’ve got it.”

              “I appreciate that, sir.” Clea finally smiled, fighting hard not to cry. Tears blurred her vision for a moment but she blinked them away. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to retire to my quarters and prepare.”

              “Feel free.” Gray gestured for the door. “I think we’ve got things well in hand up here.”

              “Thank you.” Clea paused to give him an appreciative look then hurried off. He was right. This opportunity did not come along often enough and she needed to spend as much time with her own kind as she could. Once they gave them Protocol Seven, they’d likely leave again and she had no idea when she would see them again.

             
Time to make up for lost time…as quickly as possible. Ah, how time suddenly has such a tender meaning. Like the Christmas Carol. Take advantage of the good while I have it for tomorrow, it may be gone again. I won’t make that mistake. I swear it
.

***

              Gray finished up a quick meeting with the council and arranged for them to gather shortly after the Kielans arrived. Excitement prevailed over the ship. Everyone knew why they were there and whether or not they might defeat the enemy came into question. What would the alliance do with Protocol Seven?

              The answer might turn the course of the war and history itself. Gray looked forward to their proposal. Their advances in technology made Earth’s look backward prior to the first attack. Now that they had a head start, they were beginning to catch up but it would be a while before his people would be as potent in space, at least without a little help.

              Perhaps the Kielans might be able to provide the missing parts they needed to fire up the next vessel. Their technicians certainly knew what they were doing. Perhaps Earth already had all the requirements but didn’t know how to properly utilize them. This wouldn’t have surprised Gray either considering the complexities of the pulse drives.

              He got his dress uniform out and summoned Clea to his quarters. By the time he finished pressing it, she knocked and he let her in.

              “Hey there,” Gray said without looking up from hanging his outfit. “I hope you plan to attend the council meeting with your folks.”

              “I do.” Clea paced over and took a seat. “I hope they’re here for more than taking the Protocol Seven.”

              “Me too. I’m guessing at something big.”

              “A fair assessment.” Clea folded her arms over her chest. “It would not surprise me if Earth receives a formal invitation to join the alliance. That will mean trade agreements and more assistance than you’ve received until now. If it comes to pass and you accept, things will change quickly for your people.”

              “I hope for the better.” Gray turned to the mirror. “Sometimes, advancement isn’t always positive. Change can happen too fast.”

              “Yes, but we have to welcome it regardless. We have no choice.” Clea came up behind him and peered over his shoulder. “You look worried.”

              “I’m a little nervous.”

              Clea frowned. “About what?”

              “Joining the alliance means going to war. We’ve had battles…we’ve won them but a full on engagement? Adding our guns to theirs will mean we go to a front line and campaigns like that are costly in lives and spirits.”

              “Tell me about it.” Clea moved away. “My people have been enduring what you describe for many years.”

              “Then I hope if what I’m saying is true, we can wrap this conflict up so we can all get back to something positive. Exploring, developing technology, helping each other…anything but violence. I tell you this, when that enemy is stopped, the last thing anyone’s going to be thinking about is firing a weapon.”

              “You’d be surprised how quickly tempers flare and violence follows,” Clea said. “Many cultures may even use the conclusion of one conflict to wrap up grievances directly after. Much like the proposition by your General Patton in World War Two. He wanted to re-arm the German people and attack the Russian allies before they became a problem.”

              “Yes, but that was a different theater then,” Gray said. “Back then, uncertainty reigned. With the advancements in our technologies, resources aren’t going to be the problem and so far, the alliance has proven to share our ideologies. We’re in a fantastic place to
build
relationships…not force them.

              “As you say.” Clea bowed her head. “And I do hope you’re right.”

              Gray grinned. “I am sometimes.” His com unit interrupted him. He clicked it on. “Captain Atwell here.”