Selena smirked. “Bring all ships to general quarters before we make the jump.”
Trager’s eyes narrowed in anger as he fought to keep control of himself. “Another massacre, Admiral?” his voice toned with some ridicule.
Selena quickly wheeled about in her chair to face her subordinate. For a brief time, she gazed hatefully at the man, but it soon changed to satisfaction. “If I didn’t know you better, I say you were trying to be sarcastic. Yes, the mad Martians are going to commit another massacre. They are going to destroy a civilian fleet trying to escape their evil clutches. That will make another nice headline for our galactic news service. What do you think?” she returned his mockery.
“I don’t, Admiral. I just follow orders,” the man admitted.
“Very good,” Selena smiled. “It’s the best way to stay out of trouble.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Trager mechanically agreed. “Will there be anything else?”
Selena slowly turned back to face the window again. “No. Just call me as soon as we make the jump. Now, leave!”
Without another word, Trager left the office without delay, finding his loathing of Darius reaching new depths. But as he departed, he pressed a small keyboard button on his wrist communicator. There were other things to do
* * * * *
The Quinton’s Chief Engineer, Abner Strephon, quickly boarded the sparsely occupied shuttle car that ran the length of the mighty ship. The man knew, however, that there was no privacy from the vessel’s security AI’s. Even here, within the small car, there was no solitude. Every word was recorded and every gesture monitored for any signs of disloyalty. It was like living in a prison of an unimaginable hell, where the harshest punishment was doled out for a loose or careless tongue.
Abner was more than just a mere engineer, however. His tall wiry frame held a man of the greatest technological genius: an inventor and scientist who thought beyond all boundaries of confinement and convention. Laboring in secret, he constructed a transmitting device that supplanted the real electronic monitoring signals with phony ones. And now, he merely waited to activate it.
As the car rolled to a stop, all of its cyborg passengers stood up and waited for the hatch to open. Only Abner remained seated with his arms crossed. Finally, the entry fissured wide apart, and the cyborgs departed through the hatch. After the last of the technological monstrosities had left, a single human casually strode in and seated himself directly in front of Abner. The two stared at each other as they patiently waited for the car to get underway. It wasn’t long before the car was encased and lurched forward into motion again.
Commander Trager watched as Abner activated his security override device by simply looking at his wrist communicator and blinking twice. Several LED’s flashed and then remained in a steady on state. Abner then smiled.
Sure that their conversation wasn’t being monitor, Trager spoke in urgency. “What happened?” he quizzed unhappily.
“One of those things on the bridge started running a routine diagnostic before I had a chance to totally connect the bypass circuits,” Abner explained. “They’re now watching the engine room very closely. The good news is that the main power converters are hooked-up. All you have to do is key 3-7-7 on your communicator and they’ll blow. The ship will lose all of its weapons, communications, and sensors for about ten minutes before they can reroute the power. That should be enough time.”
Trager sighed. “Did you pick up and hide those ion pistols yet?”
“Yes. Everyone’s waiting for your signal. I just pray the Martians arrive soon. Any chance of knowing when?” Abner voiced his anxiousness.
Trager shook his head slightly. “No. We’ll just have to play it by ear.”
Abner’s thoughts then turned to another subject—one dearer to his heart. “By the way, where’s Laura?” he asked worriedly.
For a moment Trager held his breath as he bit his lip. “She dead!” he spoke in a low grieving tone. “She was found guilty of sabotage!”
Abner was stunned as the death of Laura Jillian sunk into his reality. “How? Why?” he questioned regarding the trial that should have found her totally innocent.
Trager’s eyes were filled with sympathy, knowing of the budding romance between Abner and the murdered woman. “Abe, I know what Laura meant to you. I tried to intervene, but the bitch spaced her before I could do anything. Apparently, she’s the one who tampered with the evidence. Darius decided to execute her because—she was too pretty!”
Abner stared into a long nothingness as his face expanded into greater shock at the reason for Laura’s death. Then unexpectedly his features tightened into a sharp sneer while his face filled with rage. “I’m going to kill that bitch!”
“In due time,” Trager patted Abner on the knee in condolence. “In due time!” he uttered again, but in a more vengeful tone.
The car—and destiny then continued on their way.
* * * * *
Chapter 15: Stalking the Colonists
The space around Cramer’s World was as beautiful as it was serene. Nebulas colored in deep watery blues, emerald greens, and candy apple reds floated and swirled above the planet in a dazzling display of spectral delight. Even the stars were artistically placed as they illuminated the heavens from single celestial entities to entire galaxies. Laid skillfully by the God’s Hands, it was a true wonder to behold.
But something else stirred within the peaceful ether, something that was not natural, but forebodingly cold and evil. The space around the dying world began to ripple as the space-time continuum bent to the forces of massive hyper engines that formed deep swirling gravity wells. Suddenly, countless huge cones of scarlet energy burst the confines of space to materialize holes that connected one dimensional plane to another. A vast armada of ships, colored in blood red, then spewed from the openings as if the gates of hell itself were torn opened. The Crimson Fleet once again arrived to murder and destroy.
Aboard the Quinton, Admiral Darius entered the bridge and seated herself in her command chair. She gazed directly at Trager with her dark and haunting eyes. “Status report!” her tone was demanding.
Trager defiantly returned her gaze. “Everything is quiet, Admiral,” he informed her as a military professional. “There’s no ship traffic or communications signals whatsoever. They may have already fled.”
Selena snickered. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll catch up with them. Move the fleet closer to the planet and target all installations,” she said unconcerned.
“Aye, Ma’am,”
* * * * *
As the Earth fleet moved towards the planet, no one considered the battle satellites that were rotating around to face the red ships. Although such movement was normal, their electronic eyes pinpointed every position of every ship that advance towards the dying world.
Without warning the orbiting weapon platforms unleashed a barrage of laser bolts and missiles at the unsuspecting fleet. Although the ships were highly maneuverable and heavily armored, within moments several ships were blown apart in halos of turbulent energy and shimmering dust. However, even more ships were damaged by a single laser bolt or missile hit. This included the Quinton as a laser strike punctured a small section of her hull.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!” Selena lost her temper as the Quinton rocked from the direct hit.
“The planetary battle satellites,” Trager’s deposition remained cool as he monitored the situation on a sensor panel. “Their defense systems have been activated—and their access codes have been changed.”
“DESTROY THEM!” Darius demanded.
Within a minute of her order, the battle satellites were blown apart by the massive salvos from Selena’s fleet. They fell to the planet below in chunks of burning metal that lit the skies in streaking burning ambers. The fleet then reformed around the planet and began to systematically target every building, installation, and city. Minutes later, Cr
amer’s World was truly a dead planet.
Trager looked at the world that was smothered in smoke and destroyed by the bombardment. He felt a stinging sadness within himself. He hoped that all the colonists were gone, for surely there were no survivors on the planet’s surface below.
“That should about do it!” Selena broke her silence, admiring her fleet’s handy work. “Now, search the system and find those ships!”
Trager glanced at his commanding officer. “You still think the mutants are here, Admiral?”
“Yes, I do!” Selena demeanor was hateful. “Paladin and only a handful of his most trusted captains know the location of Valamars. They wouldn’t have shared that information with anyone. And since the Martians could not have beaten us here, the freaks must still be around somewhere. Now find those ships, at once!”
Trager nodded in agreement and went about his duties, but inside his heart, he prayed that all of the colonists had left the system. If they hadn’t, their deaths were almost guaranteed.
* * * * *
Chapter 16: The Boy Scout
As the Crazy Horse and the seven other Martian destroyers raced through the ever swirling and dangerous dimensional field of hyperspace, they held a loose “cone” formation. This was standard operating procedure to ensure that none of the ships would collide with each other while still maintaining close enough distance for visual contact. However, for the Crazy Horse, formational flying was more than just unusual.
In all the sorties and battles it had taken part in, the ship normally acted as a singular knight-errant apart from the rest of the Martian fleet. She was the dependable scout who blazed a trail for others to follow; the master of the “hit-and-run” who wreaked havoc in the enemy’s rear; and the gallant rescuer who searched for crews of lost ships and brought them safely home. Yet, she nearly always acted alone. And like her captain—Richard Wakinyan—the ship took on mystical connotations among many in the enlisted ranks within the fleet. In their minds, both the man and the ship were forged together as one, and their retold but somewhat exaggerated tales of heroics were inseparable.
However, Wakinyan, the man and not the mythical-like legend, was acutely in need of a break from his tiresome duties. With a lull in the mission, he decided on a quick bite of food before getting a little needed sleep.
The mess hall of the Crazy Horse was no different from any other ship. It was held continuously open for the rotating shifts of crewmen. Even though a donut and some coffee were not a banquet, they appeased any hunger pains until the next meal. It also served as a temporary haven from the reality of shipboard life and the rigors of combat. Even for Wakinyan, this became an essential part of his routine.
At this late hour, however, there were no waiting crewmen to be served. So he quickly snatched a metal tray and made his way down the line.
The choices of entrées were limited to some cold sandwiches and a host of leftovers from the dinnertime meal, none of which looked very appealing. With a slight groan of disappointment, Wakinyan placed a bit of stew and a cup of coffee on his tray. He then turned and left the line, looking for a spot to sit and eat.
The mess hall still held quite a few crewmen and marines sitting about, sharing jokes and scuttlebutt. Richard sometimes envied them, wishing he could drop the military protocol and join in. But as Wakinyan approached each isolated group, their voices trailed off to a whisper until he had passed. This was the price of being an officer, let alone deputy commander of the fleet, and he knew that this would never change. Still, Wakinyan sought a little conversation and companionship. He trudged onward.
Perhaps it was a coincidence or an act of providence, but there was someone else sitting alone. She was a bit older than he remembered, probably because she looked so weary. Yet even in her medical scrubs, her physical beauty was still evident. Richard Wakinyan found himself being drawn closer to the woman he had once shared life with, his ex-wife, Rhianna Bryan.
Rhianna was lost in her exhaustion and tribulations. In all the years she had spent as a doctor, she had never seen anything like this before; countless numbers of people mangled beyond description and dying; and all packed within the confines of the small ship. The remembrance of their sanguine life fluid, splattered and saturated on her surgical garments, was so vivid that she didn’t want to touch the clothing again. So she threw them all away. But the memory of the moaning—and sometimes screams—still gouged her thoughts with their pain.
Her fork carelessly played with a piece of food before picking it up. For a moment, it froze in her hand before it was placed in her mouth. She just didn’t want to think about it anymore. She then mechanically began to chew the unidentifiable piece of cuisine. As she forced it down, her tired eyes and mind did not sense Wakinyan’s presence.
“May I sit down,” Wakinyan asked her in a gentle and soft tone.
Rhianna’s head quickly spun to Richard’s voice in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he saw the shock in her face. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Please, may I sit down?”
For a moment, she did know what to say or do. Richard’s unexpected company seemed to heighten her resentment of the situation. He also brought with him something far worse: the feelings and memories of their courtship, marriage—and divorce.
Rhianna had once loved Richard very much and had been most happy to share life with him. But somewhere things had changed along with losing her appreciation of being just an officer’s wife. A newly found ambition had romanticized a different path to happiness and recognition: through corporate parties, politics, and intrigues. The military, however, had a conventional monotony that was devoid of such pleasures and sins.
It simply did not fit into her plans, and eventually—neither did Richard. Regardless of his blind love, false accusations, arguments, and demeaning verbal assaults became his reward. Finally, when Rhianna felt she could no longer allow him to stand in her way, she ended their marriage. In her mind, it was all his and the military’s fault. Yet, the pain of overwhelming guilt and regret tugged at her heart every time she looked at him, which she could not rationalize or explain.
“If you rather be alone,” Richard considered her feelings, “I can find another table.”
For a moment, she wondered what she should do. But with a frown, her head nodded to the seat across from her. Richard gave her a small, quick smile. He then quickly paced to the chair and sat down.
For a minute, Richard stared at Rhianna in contemplation while trying to meet her eyes. She kept her head deliberately bowed down, however, as she slowly ate.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down and eaten together,” Wakinyan attempted a conversation.
However, Rhianna just kept eating in silence. With a sip of coffee, Wakinyan studied his ex-wife a little more.
“Rhianna, I wanted to apologize for being so hard on you back there in the shuttle bay,” Richard’s softer side began to show. “Look, we’re both under tremendous amount of pressure. I know how horrible it was in there—and that you were just venting your frustration,” Wakinyan excused her behavior, “but damn it, you cannot go around insulting a captain on his ship. Please, understand I have to maintain discipline and order. If I don’t, then the next time the ship gets into serious trouble, I could lose her—and all aboard,” he tried to reason with her.
Richard paused for a few seconds to judge her reaction. Still Rhianna kept her head down.
“Rhianna, we’re not that much different,” Richard’s words tried to reach into her. “Lives depend on what we both do—or what we fail to do. We are not that much different at all.”
After Wakinyan finished, he sat motionless, waiting for a replied. It was not long in coming, as Rhianna lifted her head to finally look at him.
“So you’ve apologized,” her voice was cold. “Is that all you wanted?”
Wakinyan wasn’t sure what was going on in Rhianna’s mind. He wasn’t
sure if time had softened her heart—or hardened it. He was sure of himself, however, and how he felt.
“No,” he answered truthfully. “Something else has been on my mind for some time. You know, I’ve missed you—missed you a lot!” he made his feelings apparent.
Richard took a deep breath. “There have been times when I needed to be comforted—needed to be held—and the thought of you crept into my mind.”
For a moment Richard looked away, but then he looked back. “What did I do that was so terrible that made you want a divorce? I never struck you, never cursed you, and I never cheated on you. I just loved you—and wanted us to be together, forever!” his voice wavered in emotion.
“You heard my reasons,” Rhianna toned slightly annoyed.
But Wakinyan’s eyes flashed with some intolerance. “What I heard was excuses, not reasons!”
“Then why go along with it?”
“Because I promised you when we were first married that I would give you whatever you wanted. If that meant the end of our marriage, so be it. Besides, there is no such thing as a love affair of one.”
Rhianna smirked as she threw down her fork on the tray. It bounced with a resonant bang, and heads of crewmen and marines turned to the sudden noise.
“Do you really want to know why I wanted out?” she said in a loud angry pitch so that all could hear. “I just couldn’t stand being around such an incredibly boring guy—and such a loser! I felt totally smothered—by your love!”
Wakinyan was taken back by her sudden fury.
“You have no desire other than raising a family and being happy on your ship. But what about me? Do you really think I wanted to stay home and play mommy? Excuse me, but I have a little more ambition than that!” the vengeful woman raged, while not understanding her own anger.
“And you are so predictable! You call yourself a warrior, but do you know what you really are? You are nothing more than an over-grown Boy Scout just waiting to do your next good deed! Well, I don’t want a Boy Scout! I want a bad boy and all the excitement that goes with him!” she vocalized defiantly.