The Sol-Bect War, Part 2
Paul J Belanger
Published by Lost Luggage Studios LLC at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Paul J Belanger
ISBN: 978-1-936489-08-4
Discover other titles published by Lost Luggage Studios LLC:
Pariah -- by Jamie Alan Belanger
Purgatory Beckons -- by Paul Belanger
Scribings, Vol 1 -- edited by Jamie Alan Belanger
The Sol-Bect War, Part 1 -- by Paul Belanger
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Forward
To my good friend Ann Nelson, whose last name I used for a character in tribute to her and her family. I really appreciate the honest input which helped me finally complete this monster.
To my very first readers; Jamie, Marilyn, Lucille and Jean-Paul (aka Mom & Dad), and my sister Lynn.
A big thanks to my brother, Jamie, whose editing skills and input are always a tremendous asset.
A special thanks to Vicious Crusade, whose music, set on repeat, helped inspire and keep me going. I used the song Final Chapter for most of the book, and Let it Burn for the combat sequences. Rock on!
May
2348
Chapter 1
"Welcome aboard the United Earth carrier Mifflin. I am Lieutenant Colonel Amber Moon, the Flight Group Commander of the Mifflin Battle Group."
Lieutenant Colonel Amber Moon was in her late thirties, standing one hundred and sixty-five centimeters tall and weighing barely fifty kilograms. She was of oriental descent with short brown hair and large brown eyes. Her white undress uniform was in pristine condition and the rack of ribbons under her gold wings showed her to be a competent and accomplished combat fighter pilot.
Lieutenant Colonel Moon stood in front of an auditorium with three hundred and twenty-two new recruits. It was her duty, since all of the other commanders were mysteriously busy, to give the welcome aboard speech to everyone. She enjoyed the challenge even though she would deny it to your face if asked.
"I'm going to try and get you all up to speed on what is currently happening in this war, just so you have half a clue before going to work full time on this carrier. I am happy to say that we are starting to cause the Bectolothians some grief, we are no longer losing horribly."
The auditorium erupted in clapping and cheering and Lieutenant Colonel Moon smiled and nodded. It felt good to finally say something positive about the war, something other than that they were positively losing. That never did much for morale. She raised both hands to quiet the large group of people.
"The Mifflin has been busy protecting the planets of the United Earth and various shipping between them. Along with the carriers Griswold and Wetherill, we have been occupied in our own little section of the war while the rest of the Fleet have been busy with theirs.
"Have you all heard of Captain Peter McCabe?" Lieutenant Colonel Moon waited and looked around the quiet auditorium. Several people nodded while others looked sad. The news had spread fast and she would have been surprised if a single one of them had not heard of Captain McCabe. Everyone in the entire United Earth circle should know his name because he had done so much for the war effort.
"Well, I actually met Captain McCabe on Virginia Prime a couple months ago. He was teaching a two week class of instructors and Flight Group Commanders. It was then that the Stilettos received the laser and pylon upgrades, allowing us to wreak havoc on the enemy. Did you know that it was Captain McCabe that came up with those upgrades?" Many people had shocked looks on their faces and some mumbling commenced.
"Captain McCabe has done a lot for us. Unfortunately, the rumors are true. He is listed as Missing-In-Action, but presumed dead. According to reports from the Ticonderoga Battle Group, he and seven other pilots sacrificed their lives to save their Group from certain death. How many of you would give the ultimate sacrifice for thousands of people you don't know? I'm not sure if I could do it, not many are. You probably don't know until the time comes, or the opportunity presents itself.
"Oh well, I digress," said Lieutenant Colonel Moon. She shifted feet and looked at the notes on the podium in front of her. She had very little to cover and her primary mission was to boost morale, which was not an easy task when mentioning that sad news. But mentioning Captain McCabe was an essential part of her speech. The newcomers would get more specific information once they reached their duty sections.
"Captain McCabe said it best, everyone on this carrier serves a purpose. So don't think that what you do, however small it may seem, makes no difference, because it does. I personally like the hamburgers that Captain McCabe once mentioned in a speech, and usually long for them after a hard day of work."
Several people clapped and she had to laugh. Captain McCabe was such a strange individual. She still was not certain if he really came from the past or if that was just an elaborate hoax. People tended to exaggerate the simplest of things to make them more appealing. Many people believed it to be a lie created so that the changes he made appeared to come from some kind of esoteric knowledge. The truth? She would probably never know.
"So, let's get busy and win this war so that Captain McCabe's ideas, hard work, and ultimate sacrifice mean something. I don't want to let this positive momentum end when we have done so much and made so much progress over the last month and a half. We still have a long way to go and just because we lost our driving force it doesn't mean we have to lose our drive. There are plenty more Bect to kill out there and we run into them quite frequently. Do your part and help United Earth triumph over the alien invaders. Dismissed."
The auditorium once again echoed with cheers as the entire group stood and clapped. Lieutenant Colonel Amber Moon smiled, saluted, and marched off the stage. Her job was done, until the next group of recruits arrived. Then she would get to do it all over again.
Chapter 2
Lieutenant Commander Emily Conrad paced in the hallway as she waited impatiently for Lieutenant Colonel Terry Nelson to finish talking with one of his pilots. The bags under her eyes displayed the restless nights over the past three days as she worried about Peter. No one seemed to know anything about his fate, and that of his flight. All she had been told was that Captain Peter McCabe and seven other pilots stayed back to deter a large Bect force from attacking the Ticonderoga Group. Missing-In-Action, presumed dead. What did that mean? She did not want to think too much about it. MIA meant there was still a chance and she grasped onto that.
She continued wringing her empty hands as she walked almost in circles, wanting to stay as close to the Lieutenant Colonel's door as she possibly could. Emily had done the same thing these past days, wanting news, any kind of news. The not knowing part was the hardest. Part of her realized that he could be dead. Those words, presumed dead, had some finality to them. All the odds were stacked against Peter. If he survived then he would have been back already. If he was hurt then the decision to go back needed to be made soon enough that he did not run out of supplies. She absolutely hated the unknown. It was tearing her guts up inside and the lack of eating and sleeping was slowly destroying her.
The door opened and Emily stopped as a first lieutenant exited and disappeared down the hallway. Terry looked out of his door at her and forced a smile. She knew he was forcing it, but he was always friendly to her. He wanted some kind of news as much as she did.
"Good morning, Emily." Terry motioned for her to come into his office and she followed. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Please." Emily sat in front of his desk and could not get comfortable. She wanted to ask the same questions as she had the previous days but knew that Terry would seek her out if he had news.
Terry closed his door and poured two cups of coffee, handing her one. She never added anything to it. He sat next to her and watched as she held the cup with both hands. She was shaking slightly, most likely from lack of sleep. The coffee would not help her any. He hoped that she would achieve caffeine burnout and finally get some rest. After awakening this morning, he brewed this first batch of coffee especially strong because he knew she would once again be at his door.
"I'm sorry, Emily, but there is nothing new to report."
Parts of her sighed while other parts became restless. She was glad that Peter was still listed as Missing-In-Action instead of Killed-In-Action. There was a chance that he lived. But the other parts of her would like to know for sure, since she suspected that he was dead. It was the only logical conclusion. At least knowing his death as a fact would allow her to grieve and move on with life. The not knowing part was the absolute worst feeling imaginable. She hated that.
"I'm sorry to keep bothering you, Colonel."
"Please, call me Terry, and don't worry about that. I wish I could be of more help."
"Well, you are ... Terry. You listen to my ranting." She tried to laugh but it came out oddly. She sighed and sipped her coffee. She noticed her shaking hands and acted as if it were the first time she had seen them. Emily set the cup on the desk and raised her shaking hands in front of her face to stare at them. Everything crashed down on her and she began crying.
Terry set down his cup and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him tightly and cried on his shoulder. It had been a long time since he had consoled anyone in their grief. He had only met Emily recently and did not know her that well. Sure, she was pretty, and under different circumstances he would probably chase her. But this was more awkward than anything and he was glad that his door was closed. Maybe a psychologist could help her out, doing a much better job than he ever could.
After several more minutes Emily pulled away. She wiped at her eyes to dry them and returned to her cup of coffee, avoiding Terry's eyes. "I didn't mean to do that."
"Don't worry about it. I'd much rather you cry on my shoulder and get it out of your system than to break down in front of your crew." Terry picked up his coffee and took a long sip.
"Military protocol," said Emily, forcing a smile.
"Exactly. Speaking of your ship, how are the repairs coming?"
"Slowly. It should be operational in a few days."
"Good."
"I've also asked for a different room on this ship, in the crew's quarters. I couldn't stay in that same diplomatic room anymore. All I did was cry in there."
Terry nodded, it was one of his suggestions to her. He had seen people crack before and keeping busy seemed to be the best way for someone to keep their mind occupied. That was not working so well with Emily. Her ship did not need constant attention and was currently in an unlivable condition. She was trapped on the Ticonderoga and Terry could not spend every waking moment with her. The thought did cross his mind a few times but he had his pilots to take care of. He had an entire flight department to run.
"I should go," said Emily as she set the coffee cup on his desk and stood. She opened his door to leave and paused. "Thank you, Terry."
Terry could not help but look at her form. Her uniform was sharply pressed and wrinkle free. Her hair was also neatly brushed and presentable. She was still taking care of herself, at least outwardly. He could see it in her face that food was not something that had any type of priority for her.
"You need to eat," said Terry.
Emily nodded absently and sighed. "I will".
"You will accompany me to the chow hall," said Lieutenant Colonel Terry Nelson, switching into command mode. He stood and came up behind her, turning her around so he could look down into her eyes. "Understood?"
"I'm not hungry right now. I'll eat later."
"Not good enough, Commander. If you don't eat properly then you will be considered to be damaging government property. They'll confine you to a hospital bed and feed your body through tubes. Do you really want that?"
Emily had no answer for him. She did not want to think of those possibilities or the ramifications.
"Come with me," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson. He grabbed her right hand with his left hand and led her down the hallway. They walked briskly to the chow hall and she did not resist. He grabbed a tray and began asking her what she liked, but she did not answer. Terry sighed, it was like dealing with a child. Be gentle or be firm? Which did the situation call for? He was not trained for this. He wanted to smack some sense into her but resisted that temptation. He filled the tray with various foodstuffs and juices and took the tray, and Emily, to a table. He sat her down and pointed to the tray, "Eat."
Like an automaton, Emily began slowly putting food into her mouth. Lieutenant Colonel Nelson stood over her and watched. Others in the chow hall watched the two of them and whispered to each other but he did not care what it looked like. He glared at those watching them and they quickly looked elsewhere. He would rip everyone in that chow hall a new one if they gave him an opening. This woman was on the cusp of self-destructive behavior and he doubted he was experienced enough to even remotely help her. If she could not break out of this slump and soon then she was probably doomed.
Lieutenant Colonel Nelson placed his hands on his hips and continued watching. The mind and its processes were beyond his scope of knowledge. When Emily finished she looked up at him and a tear rolled down her cheek. Shit, thought Terry, I broke her. He grabbed her by the upper arm and lead her from the table and out the door. He left the tray for an orderly to take care of, it was the least of his concerns. He led her quickly to his office and closed the door. She latched onto him and began crying, and this time did so for many long minutes. She was a mess.
"Sorry," said Emily as she broke the embrace and backed up a few small steps. She straightened her uniform and wiped her eyes.
"Would you like more coffee?"
"Please."
Terry returned to friend mode and poured two new cups of coffee, handing her one. He touched the view screen and searched for a person that may be able to help. He pressed Connect and waited.
"Major Dorney," said the lab technician. He smiled when he saw Terry and then frowned.
"Bill, I need your help in my office, immediately."
"I'll be right there, sir," said Major Dorney. The screen went blank and Terry wanted to sigh but resisted the urge, for Emily's sake.
"Can he help me?" asked Emily. She looked him in the eyes and Terry melted. Those sad eyes screamed for help and he was powerless to do anything but.
"He's a doctor and scientist and knows much more about everything medical than anybody I know. He'll be able to help you."
Emily nodded and continued to sip her coffee.
Terry looked at the woman and compared her current image to the one he remembered seeing previously, only a few days ago at the dinner party. They seemed to be two different women. The other was strong and commanding. This one was weak and a puppet. The turmoil within her mind was literally ripping her apart. It saddened him to see that happen to anyone. She was such a beautiful woman and with a promising career. There was more to the mind than he could ever hope to understand.
The knock startled both of them. "Come in," said Terry. The door opened and Major Dorney entered, closing the door behind him.
"Colonel Nelson, good to see you again," said Major Dorney and he shook Terry's hand.
"Likewise Bill. This is Lieutenant Commander Emily Conrad."
"Nice to meet you," said Bill as the two of them shook hands.
"Emily and Peter ... are dating," said Terry. He almost used the word were, which may have set Emily off again. Damn the Terran language, thought Terry. It was so easy to use the wrong word sometimes that it was no wonder wars started so easily in the past.
"Ah, I see. Is he still Missing-In-Action?" asked Bill. The urgency of the situation at hand now made sense to him. He closely examined Emily with his trained eye and assessed her current predicament within seconds.
"Yes, no changes," said Terry.
"Could you give us a few minutes, sir?" asked Bill.
"Sure," replied Terry. He grabbed his cup of coffee, exited the room, and closed the door behind him. Now it was his turn to pace in the hallway.
More than thirty minutes later the door opened and Bill exited, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath and approached Terry.
"Colonel, she's a mess alright, but she'll be okay. I'm glad you didn't wait any longer to get me involved though. It may have been too late for any passive methods."
Terry sighed and nodded slowly. "What can I do to help?"
"You seem to be on the right track. Try to keep her occupied, somehow, which may not be too easy. Keep her fed and whatever you do, do not avoid her. One of the burdens of command begs the biggest question, who do you turn to when things are bad? She needs a friend to talk to. This will wear on you too so I'll stop by a few times a day to talk with her as well. She just needs time."
Terry nodded and smiled, "Thanks Bill."
"Don't hesitate to call me if you need me."
Terry took a deep breath, opened his door, entered, and closed it behind himself.
Bill watched and after several seconds he nodded, sighed, shook his head slowly, and began walking back to his office in the bowels of the ship. That sad lady had a long road ahead of her. The loss of someone you loved always hurt, and everyone seemed to handle it differently. The odds that Peter still lived were small, but there. She needed to work it through and the best chance of that rested with Terry. Bill could help, but a connection had already been made between those two. The most important thing she needed right now was a friend. He made a mental note to contact Lieutenant Colonel Nelson later.
Chapter 3
"They are closing, sir," said Commander Frank Mito as he watched the long-range scanner.
"Do we have a count yet?" asked Captain Jefferson Washington.
"Still working on that, sir."
The tension on the bridge was growing thick as the crew continued working the alien contact. It had been an hour since they had first detected them. From the assessed course of the contact, these ships were probably the force that Peter and his flight had engaged. At least that was their best guess. They had no idea how many ships had been in that original assault force nor how many they would soon need to engage. They were playing a waiting game and no one liked that game.
"How's Emily doing?" asked Jeff. He needed something else to occupy his mind and that was the first thought to appear. It had been a week since Peter had departed on his last mission and Jeff missed him as well.
"She's a mess, but doing better," replied Terry. "I asked Major Dorney for help."
Jeff nodded, "Bill's a good man." He thought about Emily and how she must have felt. War was a sad business and a lot of times death was an inevitability. He missed having Peter somewhere nearby, causing him grief with all his requests. That displaced man meant a lot to him, and to the entire human race as well. Where was he?
"Yes he is. Did you know Bill actually studied psychology and electronics as hobbies while attending medical school?"
"That man is a mystery. What the hell is he doing in the military?"
"No idea," said Terry.
"Be careful with her," said Jeff.
Terry nodded, knowing full well the various paths he tread. At one point he tried to figure out how many possible problem areas he encroached upon. He gave up when the number exceeded his quantity of fingers. Be careful? Indeed.
"Count in progress, sir," said Commander Mito. The pause was almost deafening as everyone on the bridge quietly waited. Their future would be determined by that number. If it were the force that Peter encountered, and he said it was massive, then this could very well be the end of them. Will this war ever give us a break? thought Commander Mito.
"She's a strong woman," said Jeff.
"Yes, she is. She actually smiled this morning."
"What caused that?" Jeff turned to look at Terry and his mind began flashing caution signs. It would be nice if she could bounce back from this suffering and become functional again. Her ship was almost ready for service and it needed its commander.
"I slipped some cinnamon into her coffee and didn't tell her. It was a pleasant surprise for her."
"Good," said Jeff. "I hope you build her strong enough that when the inevitable change of his status to Killed-In-Action comes it doesn't cause her to implode."
Terry nodded in reply. That was what he had been working toward. He tried to drop hints every so often, but without any real answer all they could be were possibilities. At least she was eating more normally now and actually sleeping at night. In some ways he missed her crying on his shoulder, but in other ways it made him uncomfortable. It was a dichotomy he probably would never fully understand.
"The count is in, sir," said Commander Mito, "and you are not going to like it."
"What is it?"
"Best estimate is nine cruisers, two unknowns, one tanker, thirty-seven fighters, and six bombers."
"God help us," said Captain Washington.
"That seems awfully light on fighter support for that many capital ships," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson.
Captain Washington had to agree with his Flight Group Commander. For that many cruisers to be present they must have begun with a sizable force. He was surprised that none of his officers had asked the logical question. "No carrier?"
"None, sir," replied Commander Mito. "Captain McCabe and his flight must have destroyed it."
"Well, let's do that man proud and clean up the rest of the garbage for him. Sound general quarters," said Captain Washington. It was time to return to the business of war, and he had some payback to deliver for his friend. "Standby all crew for battle."
"Aye aye, sir," yelled out several of the crew members as they quickly passed the orders around. What once had been a fight of futility, desperation, and evasion was now one of payback. It was time to take their newfound skills and return death to the enemy.
*
Major Silvio Brannick smiled for the first time in a very long time. As he sat in his Stiletto he was excited about the coming battle. He was no longer the bastard child set to always defend the Group from attack. He had been doing quite well in the simulator because he had a lot of anger to expend about the entire flight-duty system. He quickly learned to channel that anger to one of skilled destructiveness. This battle would be the first test of those honed skills in actual combat. He was more than ready for the challenge.
"Alright everyone, you know the drill," said Major Brannick on the short-range frequency. Being the highest-ranking flying pilot, he was in charge of the attack. The coming assault was thoroughly briefed beforehand and he defaulted several times to more skilled and active pilots when necessary. He was most impressed with the knowledge and tactics from that young captain, Carlos Mendez. He was going to like working with that man. "We'll launch all of our missiles at the capital ships as per the ICIS resolution. Got that?"
"Yes sir," came several responses over the frequency. The amount of chatter was definitely comical in nature. No one knew for certain if their recent change from remaining quiet to information overload was helping or not.
"Engage!" yelled Major Brannick as he pushed his throttles forward.
"Remember your training," yelled Captain Carlos Mendez over the command frequency. "For Peter, let's go!" Several shouts, cheers, and other colorful phrases bounced around the frequency, causing a few of the female crew to blush.
"Does anybody know where the alien's testicles are? My boots were made for kicking," said First Lieutenant Randy Taylor. ICIS, Instantaneous Combat Information System, worked on a firing solution and presented him with a juicy unknown target as his primary. His mind wandered as he tried to recall if ICIS had any limitation to the number of targets it could track and resolve. He shook his head to clear his mind so he could concentrate on the task at hand: destroying Bect capital ships, and lots of them.
"Count me in," said First Lieutenant Miguel Rodriguez. He veered his squadron to the right of the main assault force and increased inclines.
*
"Quite colorful comments," said Captain Washington as he looked to Lieutenant Colonel Nelson. "I'm learning some new ones."
"Me too," replied Lieutenant Colonel Nelson through clenched teeth.
"Missiles away," came Major Silvio Brannick's voice over the short-range frequency. Soon every single pilot began broadcasting their missile launches. The officer in charge of monitoring the short-range frequency had the foresight to turn the volume down once the battle began. Captain Washington made a mental note to commend the man on that. Information overload could work both ways.
Missile launches continued as all eight missiles from every fighter in three squadrons left the wing pylons. Almost four hundred missiles, the most ever fielded at a single time, crossed the area between both forces. Captain Washington held his breath as the missiles traversed space. There was a lot riding on this one battle. If those capital ships lived, and were able to reduce the human's fighter cover, the remainder of the Ticonderoga Battle Group would be destroyed. It was a life-or-death battle for them all. In the larger scheme of things, this one battle could decide the fate of the entire human race.
The missile impacts and resulting flashes were brilliant beyond belief. Within a handful of seconds, the shock wave impacted the carrier and knocked Captain Washington off his feet. Being partially blinded and lying on the floor, he found himself disoriented.
"Damage report," yelled Captain Washington.
"Standby," said the Ensign strapped into his seat. He checked his screens and a few seconds later he replied, "All decks report minor damage. Structural integrity is intact."
"What's going on out there?" asked Captain Washington. He shook his head from side to side and slowly stood, running his right hand over his head. The wait for an answer was taking a lot longer than he liked and he opened his mouth to ask more forcefully, but was cut off.
"Not really sure, sir," said Commander Mito. "The debris field is enormous." He punched several buttons rapidly and tried to zoom in on the action but failed. There was too much junk scattered about to sort through and the computers were coming up blank. He sighed in frustration and pressed the microphone button on his belt.
"Major Brannick, status report," said Commander Mito. He had to repeat himself three times before he received an answer.
*
"All capital ships have been destroyed. We're mopping up the remaining fighters and bombers right now. Give us a minute and we'll have this section of space cleared for you, sir." Major Brannick smiled, even larger this time. That was the most fun he ever remembered having. He lined up on a bomber and proceeded to fill it with laser blasts until it popped. It's good to be in combat again, thought Major Brannick.
Captain Carlos Mendez smiled as well. He quickly removed three slugs from creation before he had a chance to exhale his current breath. Peter had done so much to help them and this one battle proved to him, and the entire Ticonderoga Group, that they could function without Peter. Carlos did not really want to think about Peter not being there. It would have been a glorious day for Peter to have seen this battle. Maybe he did? No one ever really knew the answer to that question.
"Thank you, Peter," said Carlos to himself. At first he did not know how to take that man. He thought he may have been a spy. How ridiculous that line of thinking was.
*
"All enemy activity has been silenced," said Major Brannick's voice over the command frequency. "Second Defend Squadron take up patrol. The rest of us, return for landing."
The cheers were exhilarating. The smile on Captain Washington's face mirrored those of the men and women around him. For them to cause so much damage to the Bect so quickly, it was unheard of, until now.
"Terry, damage report," said Captain Washington.
"Three Stilettos damaged, one moderate and the other two very minor. Most of the damage received was from the debris field."
"How many losses?"
"None, sir," replied Terry.
"None?" asked Jeff in disbelief and surprise.
"None."
"Damn."
Chapter 4
"Sir," said the Ensign on duty at the communication station. "We are receiving the sealed-beam transmission from the passive probe we dropped before leaving Vale-4."
"Damn, it's been over a week," said Captain Washington as he wondered what had happened to those eight brave souls. Whatever they had done it seemed to be successful. The Group had continued on in safety unmolested by Bect warships for almost a week as they left the solar system. After several direction changes they slowed to complete repairs on the damaged ships. It was two days ago when what appeared to be the remainder of that original assault force had confronted them. If the original force was larger than that it could not have been by much. The only thing that seemed out of place was the quantity of fighter and bomber support for that many capital ships. Maybe now they would finally learn just how large that original force had been.
"Transmission is in progress, sir. Estimated completion time is forty-seven minutes and thirteen seconds."
"Very slow," said Captain Washington. He hoped it contained enough footage to see the outcome of the battle and the fates of those that had sacrificed their lives to save the Group. How much of a save had it been? The eleven capital ships they had just fought were nothing to shrug at. If they were the only ships in that original Bect force then the brave lives of those pilots were needlessly thrown away. He hoped that was not the case. He hated to see people throw their lives away for nothing, which had been the case for this entire war until Peter showed up.
Captain Washington had requested to Central Command that they allow them to return to the battle area to search for survivors, but they denied him outright. He regretted not being able to return, but that area was still marked as a hotbed of alien activity and they had a mission to complete. His current mission took priority over anything else and Central Command would redirect another Group at some point if it were in the Fleet's best interest.
"Terry," said Captain Washington as he depressed the intercom button that led to Flight Ops.
"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson.
"We're receiving the transmission from that passive probe we dropped before we left the planet. Take your time, it's a slow transmission." Captain Washington did not need to say which planet, for everyone aboard knew the one they were talking about. It was the greatest news of the entire Carrier Group. Eight brave pilots sacrificed their lives to allow the Group to get away from certain death at the hands of a vastly superior Bect force. How superior a force was it? No one knew the answer to that question and they hoped this probe would shed some light on things. With their recent success against all those Bect capital ships the purpose of that sacrifice was diminishing rapidly.
*
"On my way," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson. Terry ignored what he was in the middle of and exited his office. He thought about running to the bridge again but for a different reason. It was time to discover the fate of a friend. He forced himself to walk slowly so he would have time to think.
His mind wandered to Emily and he grew both happy and sad at the same time. Hopefully she finally had an answer. The odds of Peter still being alive out there were very small. About the most Terry could hope for would be confirmation that Peter was Killed-In-Action. He did not want Peter to be dead, but having his status as Missing-In-Action was only causing more grief for everyone. At least if he were to be officially pronounced Killed-In-Action, then people could complete their grieving and move on. They really needed some kind of closure.
Emily had been doing so much better and was actually joking around with him. They would spend hours talking together to work through the grief or tell stories about Peter doing something crazy or funny. It was both uplifting and depressing. Sometimes she would just cry on his shoulder, slipping from a smile to tears as quickly as flipping a switch. She was generally more stable now, at least. Bill was impressed by her change of spirits. Something was working out better than he expected and Bill would never complain about that.
Terry paused before entering the bridge. He walked through the door and stood next to Jeff as they waited for what seemed like forever.
"Transmission completed," said the communication officer. "Redundancy check satisfactory."
"Begin replay on the big screen," said Captain Washington. All work stopped at this point as the entire bridge crew watched the screen in curiosity. The probe was limited in what it could record and it took some electronic enhancement to display the battle in anything representing a useful format.
The video began with the probe stabilizing near the moon. The clump of white dots signifying the Ticonderoga Group had just reached the maximum range of the probe and disappeared off the left side of the screen. The large red section of dots was enhanced at that point and a technician began categorizing the alien ships.
"Sir, classification resolves as three carriers, three unknowns, two tankers, and fourteen cruisers," said the scanner operator.
"Mother of all creatures great and small," said Captain Washington. The look of shock on his face said it all. "That force we recently destroyed was part of that monstrosity."
Lieutenant Colonel Nelson whistled in amazement.
"That force would have been the end of us all," said Captain Washington. "Each alien carrier seems to carry between seventy-five and one hundred fighters and bombers. There's no way we could have survived against that mess without heavy losses."
"Very heavy if not total," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson while shaking his head. "Even with our newfound skills we wouldn't be able to deliver a sufficient amount of missiles to stop that many ships."
They watched in silence as the alien group continued after them. Once the Bect force passed the planet's only moon, a small group of white dots appeared behind them and closed the distance rapidly.
"There go our fighters," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson quietly. He realized that everyone already knew that information and mostly said it for himself. Now was the moment of truth, to discover what had happened to those eight brave pilots.
The scanner tech enhanced the image a little further but at the cost of clarity. What they gained was a greater view of the battle but at the introduction of blurring of the dots. Two volleys of missiles streaked toward the alien ships. The Bect were caught unaware and maneuvered rapidly to confront the ships that came from behind them. The Stiletto dots turned after releasing their missiles and two carrier targets disappeared from the screen.
"Holy shit, they dropped two carriers," said Captain Washington in shock. He tried not to swear like that in front of subordinates but the video caught him off guard.
"That ruined the Bect parade for sure," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson. "Peter's flight effectively removed almost two hundred fighters and bombers from the equation."
"And, more importantly, it stopped the Bect dead in their tracks, delaying them from finding us any sooner than they had," added Captain Washington.
As the distance between the red and white dots decreased, three Stiletto dots disappeared from the probe image. Seconds later the five remaining Stilettos turned to reengage the Bect force.
"What the hell? Are they going back in?" asked Captain Washington.
"They have no choice, sir," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson. "Those capital ships are too close and right now it looks like the safest place for our pilots is going to be in the midst of the Bect ships."
"How so?"
"You can't use your big guns with friends so close," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson.
It became difficult to watch the action from this point as the last carrier began launching fighters. From what they could determine, the Stilettos were targeting the last carrier to hopefully inflict more damage. The slugs were being replaced as quickly as they were destroyed and the battle became a confusing mess. A couple more capital ships left the screen, which was easier to discern since their dots were bigger than those of the fighters.
The bridge crew began chatting excitedly as two white dots exited the Bect group at an unusually high speed. Lieutenant Colonel Nelson had to explain the emergency egress system built into the Stiletto. It was a onetime use system to get out of a dire situation in a hurry as the ship's engines literally melted to deliver that added boost. The two dots moved toward the planet with the entire remaining Bect force following them.
After almost fifteen tortuous seconds the remaining two white dots disappeared from the screen. The Bect force returned to their original course in the direction that the human group had gone. Peter's brave flight of eight elite fighters had severely damaged the enemy but had not prevented them from following the Ticonderoga Group.
"Damn," said Captain Washington as the silence on the bridge continued. "Get that video cleaned up as best you can and ship it to Fleet Headquarters."
"Aye aye, sir."
"Looks like our friend's plan caused them some serious damage," said Captain Washington.
"Yes, sir," replied Lieutenant Colonel Nelson. "Three carriers and seventeen other capital ships, my God. I don't even want to contemplate what might have happened if they got through, but I will. That Bect assault force, with that many fighters and bombers prepared for battle, would have been more than we could have handled."
"Yes, we would not have survived," said Captain Washington. Thank you, thought Jeff as he silently thanked Peter and his brave flight of pilots. He would never be able to thank them enough for their sacrifice. "The only reason Peter's flight survived for so long was that they cut the Bect fighter force down considerably. Just as Peter had said so often, catching the Bect completely by surprise was their greatest advantage."
"Indeed," said Commander Mito.
"Colonel, make sure everyone in the Group sees this video with commentary if you think it is necessary. Give it to the training department to do their usual debriefing and let me know when it's ready, I want to sit in for that."
"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Colonel Nelson.
Captain Washington asked the question on everyone's mind. "Is there any chance that anyone survived?"
"Not likely, sir. Our ships transmit a security code that changes daily. As long as the ship's beacon is still transmitting that code a white dot is displayed on our screens. All other unknown craft receive a red dot. If the pilot ejects then the white dot begins blinking. If the light goes out then ..." Lieutenant Colonel Nelson could not bring himself to finish that sentence.
Captain Washington nodded in response. He did not want to finish that sentence either. He finally had his answer for the fate of his friend, Peter McCabe. That man and his flight of pilots went against an insane force and brought the aliens to their knees. Three carriers were in that mess but the force that they recently fought had no carriers. Peter's flight must have succeeded in destroying all three. Although Peter's flight did not succeed in dissuading the Bect from following the Ticonderoga Group, they certainly did cripple the assault force. Peter's flight were still heroes.
"Unfortunately," said Captain Washington, "with this information we need to change the status of those pilots to Killed-In-Action. I'll do the paperwork and also recommend them for medals."
"I dread what comes next," whispered Terry.
"I would say to break it easy to her, but how can that conversation ever be easy," replied Jeff.
"I think I'll get Bill to call her over here under the guise of something medical. Then the both of us can break it to her. I refuse to do that over the view screen."
"Good idea, and good luck." Jeff squeezed Terry's shoulder and sighed. That was going to be a tough conversation. It had been a very long time since Jeff had made some poor girl cry. He remembered that moment all too well.
Chapter 5
Peter jerked awake at the loud clap of thunder but he could not open his eyes. He found it very difficult to think straight as he twisted his body as much as the pain would allow. A small warm hand took his and thoughts of Emily filled his mind. This calmed him tremendously and he squeezed the hand gently and fell back asleep.
*
When Peter awoke he heard birds, which seemed rather odd for a carrier in deep space. He listened to them for a few minutes before he tried to open his eyes. They opened this time but he found he could not move his head very much because of the pain. The warm hand was gone and the ceiling he was staring at confused him. It looked like it was made with straw lying over crudely cut timber beams. He sniffed the air and it smelled of a very mild perfume or incense and he liked it.
A voice spoke and he tried to turn to see who it was but could not. It sounded feminine but he did not recognize the language. He could only speak Terran fluently but knew a few words in several other languages, mostly swears. He had become fairly good at determining a language just by the sound of it, but this one completely baffled him. It had a very singsong quality to it, almost as if the woman was singing a quiet aria. Peter saw a blurred image come closer and he struggled to focus on it. A small hand touched his chest lightly as a woman appeared and spoke to him again.
She was beautiful on a level that Peter thought impossible, almost angelic. She was also very small at maybe one hundred and fifty centimeters tall. Her long blond hair was perfectly straight and went down as far as he could see. She had strands from the front twisted together in a weave and tied behind her head like a crown. Her face was an image of perfection, not a single mark marring her lightly-colored complexion. Her eyes were a deep azure color that contrasted nicely with her blond hair. Peter would have thought himself dead if not for the pain he still felt.
"Who are you?" asked Peter, not really sure if an answer mattered that much to him. He watched as a puzzled expression crossed the woman's face. She said a few more words to him hoping for an answer and then shook her head slowly. She reached out of his view and produced a small bowl with a towel in some water that she used to wipe his forehead.
"I guess the answer to where am I will be the same too?"
She gave him an odd look and set the bowl on the table beside the bed. Another bowl took its place and she set it in her lap. The dress she wore was white and contained several gold threads that made patterns throughout. From his angle, Peter figured the dress went to her feet since the sleeves extended to her wrists.
She removed a small round object the size of a grape. It was a slight red color with a tinge of green in it. Peter thought it might have been a miniature apple as it entered his mouth. He chewed it slowly and smiled, it was sweet and had the consistency of an apple but the taste was completely different. She fed him more of the strange fruit and seemed very pleased that he had eaten them. She spoke some more to him and he listened carefully, trying to compare it to something he knew and failing.
The young woman stood and walked regally to the door, which was a couple pieces of a heavy cloth crossing over each other. She parted the two pieces and a male leaned over and looked at her. The two of them spoke rapidly to each other and the male left his post by the door. Peter took him for a guard and wondered why this beautiful woman was holding him captive. It did not make any sense. The only thing that seemed real was the pain he still felt in his chest.
She sat in the chair beside him and placed her open hand on his forehead. She seemed pleased at what she felt and Peter was happy just staring at her. She smiled and tapped him lightly on the nose and then spoke/sang some more to him. It was the most relaxing language he had ever heard and he wished he could understand it.
That was when he remembered the Stiletto Flight Manual, under the subsection concerning crash landings on unknown worlds. There was a universal translator, along with a laser pistol and some other emergency items, located in a sealed compartment behind the rear seat of the cockpit. This brought back memories of his last battle, which he had almost forgotten. He and Cindy had run from the Bect force and ejected into the atmosphere of the red planet they were near. He strained to search around with a worried look on his face. It hurt to do that kind of movement but he needed to know if she was here too. Peter and the young woman were the only ones in this house or shack. He still was not sure what to call it.
"Was there another like me?" asked Peter rapidly as he soon realized that he was wasting breath. He tried pointing to himself with the finger of his right hand and then held up two fingers. Then he pointed back and repeated the movement with a hurried and concerned look on his face.
The young blond woman watched him carefully as she tried to discern what he was doing. After his fourth repetition, the action dawned on her as to what he was attempting and a look of knowing appeared on her face. She lowered her head slightly and slowly shook it from side to side. She pointed to him with one finger and then held that one finger up.
Cindy could still be alive. This planet was a good-sized one and maybe this town or village or whatever was just a limited area and she had set down elsewhere. Peter was successful, he hoped, in conversing to the woman and she in turn followed his lead. Maybe they could work out some kind of communication until he could get to the universal translator. That caused Peter to wonder if the translator was truly universal or if it had limitations.
Peter had seen so many times in movies where people tried to converse that he figured it was worth a shot. He pointed to himself again as he spoke his name over and over again. After the fifth time she repeated his name while pointing to him. He nodded in response and she smiled. Then she pointed to herself and spoke/sang two syllables that made his eyes open wide. She repeated her name while pointing to herself and after the eighth time he felt comfortable enough to try it.
"Gaelei," repeated Peter several times with a hopeful look on his face. He found it difficult to move his mouth sufficiently to reproduce it.
She smiled and nodded, realizing that her language might have been beyond his vocal capacity in his current condition. She handed him a small ceramic cup with a warm clear liquid in it. He took it and sniffed the contents. It smelled like medicine so he sipped it carefully. It bordered on disgusting so he made a strange face while looking at her and drank the entire contents in one long swig. There would be no use in fighting her helpful bedside manner. Take the pain, thought Peter.
"Yuck," said Peter while coughing as he handed her the cup. She nodded vigorously with a large smile on her face and popped one of the tasty apple-like fruits into his mouth. He chewed it slowly and was elated to discover that it alleviated the awful taste almost completely.
The liquid made him drowsy so he stared at Gaelei as he drifted to sleep. She watched him silently while smiling and gently holding his right hand.
*
Emily stared at herself in the mirror. She looked downright hideous. The bags under her eyes from the restless nights and all of the crying were making her look a lot older than she really was. At least her ship was ready so that she could spend the days coordinating the remaining repairs. She tried to keep herself as busy as she possibly could for as long as she could. Then night would come and the crying would begin again.
During the day she avoided Terry as much as possible, and luckily he respected her wishes. They decided to only talk during duty times if it were an emergency. Otherwise, he would contact her at night once she was off duty. Most of the time she would contact him when she was available. Terry was really flexible in that regard and made certain he was available for her when she needed him. What would she ever do without Terry's help?
*
When Peter awakened he was feeling better and could turn his head from side to side without pain. Gaelei was not in the shack at the moment so he tried to sit up and look around. It was a very simple room with two wooden chairs, a small wooden table, and a wooden bed. The bed was very comfortable as was the pillow, both being stuffed with light feathers of some kind. He moved the pillow so he could lean against the headboard as he continued to examine his surroundings. The floor was composed of reddish dirt with a few small rugs near the bed. The center of the room had a wooden beam from the floor to the ceiling. Set in the wall on his right was a fireplace that was not currently in use.
He had a bandage wrapped tightly around his sore chest and the rest of his body was naked. The black-and-blue marks covering his upper torso indicated that he might have some broken ribs, so he did not want to attempt standing. All his parts seemed intact and that was when he noticed his lower left leg in a splint. He could move his toes and did not feel any pain but it must have been broken in the crash landing. The last thing he remembered was spinning out of control as he entered the atmosphere.
The curtained door opened and Gaelei peered in, the bright sunlight sneaking in around her. Her long blond hair glistened in the light and a big smile grew on her face. She spoke slowly and held up one finger before she disappeared. Peter imagined that she had said, "Ah good, you're up. I'll be right back."
Gaelei soon returned and one of the guards held open the curtain for her to pass through. She held a tray with a bowl of steaming liquid and a plate with chunks of some sort of meat on it. There was a large piece of brown bread on the tray and a mug that might have been made out of leather. The smells coming from the steaming food caused his stomach to grumble expectantly. She placed the tray carefully on his lap.
"Peter," she said while pointing to the food. She rubbed her stomach and said another string of words that made no sense to him. He understood the motion of her hand and took a bite of the meat. It was good and like everything else in the universe it tasted like chicken. He sampled the soup by lifting the ceramic bowl to his mouth and found a variety of tasty vegetables in it. The bread was incredibly soft and slightly sweet and the liquid in the mug tasted like a thick stout. It was, by far, the most enjoyable meal he had had since he was defrosted. Maybe he really did die or was dreaming?
"Excellent, Gaelei," said Peter between bites while nodding and smiling.
Gaelei repeated a word a few times and Peter copied it much to her delight. He understood the word to mean good. He continued eating and finished everything set before him. He had not realized how hungry he was. He also did not know how long he had been unconscious. There was not much at the moment that he did know.
A man wearing chain mail entered and Gaelei abruptly stood. The man pulled his coif back and let it fall against his back as he walked to the middle of the room. He removed his leather gloves slowly and tucked them behind the broad white belt that had a sword and scabbard attached to it. Peter felt like he had just traveled back in time and almost laughed at the thought. He always felt he was born either too early or too late. He had already experienced the future so it was rather fitting to now experience the past.
The man spoke to Gaelei in the same singsong language and she quickly replied. She pointed to Peter and said another string of words ending with his name. Peter looked at the man and smiled.
"Thank you for saving me," said Peter, not knowing what else to do or to say to this man. He was obviously a man in some kind of authority. He carried himself like someone familiar with being in command. He was not much taller than Gaelei and had that same straight blond hair. His eyes were also azure and he had no facial hair other than his eyebrows. He turned to Gaelei after Peter spoke and said another string of words.
She shrugged and rattled off a quick response. Peter winced lightly as a sharp pain shot through his chest as he moved the now empty tray to the small table near the bed. He extended his open hand to the armored man and waited. The man apprehensively grasped his hand and Peter said thank you several times while slightly bowing his head.
The man seemed pleased and released Peter's hand while smiling as he looked to Gaelei. She had spent the most time with this strange man so he waited to hear what she had to say. She repeated thank you several times and shrugged as she said a word in her language. He hoped it meant the same thing and Peter repeated it out loud. The man's eyes widened as he looked at Peter and then spoke a bunch of other words. Peter felt lost and hoped the word did not piss off the man. The man smiled and exited the shack.