Star Guild: Episodes 1, 2 & 3 Page 3

  She heard a pound against her Mech's dome. It sounded like metal on metal and she remained still. It would take very special and very strong tools to open the Mech, unless they blasted it like they had done with Hendricks, poor soul. The question then floated into her mind. Why am I still alive? Do they want to experiment on me or something? She looked around for a knife, or any kind of a blade. She squeezed her hands into fists. She was just a Mechie and they weren't authorized to carry such items while operating a Mech.

  The pounding against the Mech continued. She covered her ears and closed her eyes. The sudden urge to fight drained away. She wanted anything else, even suffocation, as long as she didn't have to see who was doing the pounding. She could wait in here and waste away as her Mech's air tanks emptied. She reasoned that it would be a better death than the torture she was sure to experience. She almost laughed. She'd been watching too many holovids.

  The window.

  It was right in front of her. She could see out of it, and that meant that someone could see in— they could see her plain as day.

  The damned window.

  She didn't want to look out of it and it was so very large and that was a big problem. If the creature, or creatures, looked through it, she couldn't avoid eye contact and she wouldn't be able to ignore them, either. But, she was trained to look, trained to notice everything. It had been ingrained into her since she was a child, locked into her by her family's military prowess, shoved into her by her combat education, and nailed into her during her short stint as a Star Guild starfighter. Looking would be a habitual response.

  The pounding stopped. They had failed to break through, just like she thought they would. The engineers designed it to be impenetrable to anything; especially with its double thick ebbed armor, including the window made out of more than a thousand long, thin strips of clear ebb. How the engineers had accomplished that, she did not know. If a crack in the window occurred like it had on Crystal's Mech, it wouldn't matter because the crack would usually effect only the outer layer of the clear ebb strip. The rest would be untouched.

  She took a deep breath, wondering when she’d draw her last one. If her HCD was working, she'd be able to ask it how much oxygen was left.

  A shadow appeared over her window and Crystal looked straight up, toward the dome of the Mech. If the creature was going to take a peek inside, Crystal was going to look away. She just had to.

  Then it suddenly occurred to Crystal that if the creature peered in at her, that would leave the hatch unguarded. She slowly slid her body closer to the hatch, thinking she might have a chance to pop it open and run like a bad ass into an office that she knew was only about twenty steps away.

  Out of the corner of her eye, the shadow grew larger. In truth, Crystal would have to look at the creature. She would have to pay attention so she would know exactly when to pop the hatch. Yes, seeing the creature was her best strategy.

  Placing her finger lightly on the open hatch button, she looked down at the window, waiting for the right moment. The shadow became smaller, closing in on itself, which usually meant that someone was getting nearer.

  Holding her breath, she held her position like a mannequin, unmoving and unflinching. But suddenly a thought entered her mind and she lightened her touch on the button.

  What if there are dozens of them outside, waiting for me to attempt an escape?

  Abruptly, escaping became a bad idea. She let go of the button and stared out the window. Then something pressed against it. Crystal screamed.

  ∞

  Admiral Byrd entered Starship Brigantia's bridge with Eden by his side. And, by gazing into the eyes of the men and women scattered around the room, he saw the fear in them. Some nervously looked ready to burst out of their skins, while others looked as if they were ready to break down and cry. He wondered if he wore a similar appearance.

  Saluting back to them, he dropped his arm to his side and the crew did the same. The command chair was in the middle of the bridge, the same one the admiral had occupied during the last dozen years, and next to it was the navigation chair where Brigger Murphy sat, and on the other side of him was the empty chair for the second in command, Captain Louise Stripe. She was at the helm, steering Starship Brigantia.

  As Eden and Admiral Byrd moved toward the command chair, an explosion rocked the ship, making them stumble and fall against Brigger's navigation console. Brigger's arms flew up, doing his best to catch them, but with little success. They fell against the console and into him, pulling Brigger with them as all three of them hit the deck.

  Eden stood up first, and immediately headed for her station at the flight commander's desk where she could monitor her pilots. Admiral Byrd helped Brigger up.

  “Thanks,” said Brigger.

  The admiral gave him a nod and walked over to his position and sat. He studied the main screen, which looked more like a thick window encircling the bridge, allowing them to view everything occurring outside of the ship. This was his design, something he had thought of for the vid techs to create, and he was duly impressed when they’d finished the project only months after being presented with the concept. These screens were now protocol on all starships. He called them vid screens.

  “Damage report,” said the admiral.

  “Shields more than half depleted, the hull is—”

  “Exact percentages, Brigger!” shot the admiral.

  Brigger sat up straight, not used to the situation at hand. “Shields at 68 percent down, photon cannons 100 percent off line, ion blasters fully functional, engine fully functional, hangar deck fully functional, hyper drives fully functional, je—”

  The ship tossed, making Brigger bite his words.

  “How many starships are left, Brigger?”

  “Four, including this one, sir.”

  The admiral gave Brigger a double look, and then glanced at Captain Stripe, silently asking for an explanation.

  The captain answered, “Five have been downed, Admiral.”

  How were the starships destroyed so quickly? He wanted to ask the question, but didn't have time for the answer. “Open all com links to the admiral of each remaining starship,” ordered Admiral Byrd.

  Just as the com links opened, three holographic images of the remaining admirals, sitting in their own command chairs, appeared on a small stage, the holostage, a few yards in front of Admiral Byrd. They all looked grim.

  All three nodded to their Fleet Admiral. “Admiral Byrd,” they said in unison.

  The admiral didn’t waste any time on formalities. “Get your birds inside your ships…we jump on my mark!”

  “Aye, Admiral,” replied the two male admirals in the hologram, both old and tired looking. The third one, a female with dark brown hair with a tint of silver at the roots, remained silent. Even though her face didn't match the wrinkles of her fellow admirals, it reflected the wear of long nights, stressful meetings, and tiresome trainings. She stood out of her chair at attention. “Permission to speak, sir.”

  Admiral Byrd gazed around the room, annoyed. He had pressing issues and a discussion wasn't one of them, no matter how short it might be. His face became stern as he looked back at her. “Permission granted,” he said, noting her expression. There was more than worry in her eyes, more than the fate of humanity resting on her lips. Yes, something more… something personal.

  The two other admirals blinked out, their holograms gone. Starship Brigantia shuddered, the lights blinking off and on again.

  Admiral Byrd got out of his seat and stood tall. “Admiral Diana McCoy, do you have a challenge with my orders?”

  She took a step forward, face focused and blue eyes not bending away from the steely stare of his brown eyes through the screen. “Yes.” Then her body abruptly fell to the floor. Her starship had been hit hard. After several seconds, she collected herself and stood up straight. The admiral noticed she was clutching the side of her pants. She was nervous, but Admiral Byrd ignored it, choosing to listen—for the moment.
/>
  “I'm keeping Starship Sirona here, Admiral. As you know, all of the men and women on Lumus are from my starship. We plan on extracting them from the planet and then jumping. We will meet your selected coordinates as soon as possible.”

  Admiral Byrd gave a quick shake of his head. “Negative, Admiral. You will take Starship Sirona with us—we'll come back for those on Lumus when it’s deemed safe.”

  “I can't do that, Admiral.”

  The admiral's muscles quivered and his body tensed, heat flushing through his cheeks. “Disagreeing is fine, but you are sworn by oath to obey my orders it's cut-and-dried, Admiral McCoy.”

  “Not this time.” She pointed to the floor, as if it was planet Lumus below. “Our family members are down there. We intend to retrieve them. Once we do, we will then rendezvous with you.”

  Admiral Byrd's face stiffened and one of his eyes twitched. He felt like squeezing someone's neck, Diana McCoy's neck. “Admiral McCoy, you are disobeying a direct order!”

  Admiral McCoy’s nostrils flared. “My daughter is down there—sir!”

  Admiral Byrd lowered his chin. “Like I said, we will come back and retrieve them.”

  Admiral McCoy shook her head. “The rest of the crew and the citizens of Starship Sirona are in agreement—I must retrieve the sons and daughters of my starship off the planet.”

  He shook his head, knowing that a tally of votes from the inhabitants of Sirona could not have taken place in such a short time, especially during combat.

  Another shudder and Admiral Byrd fell back against his chair. Straightening himself, he stared intently at Diana McCoy as he stated, “You are disobeying a direct order, Admiral McCoy.”

  Diana nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor. When she looked up, Admiral Byrd could see tears trailing down her cheeks. She touched her thick, dark blue command suit above her left breast, unclipping her silver and gold wings. She held the insignia within her hand, staring at it for a moment, and then set it on top of the HDC next to her command chair.

  “No,” Admiral Byrd shook his head. “I'm not accepting your resignation.”

  “I'm taking over Starship Sirona, and hereby removing it from Star Guild.”

  “You can't do that!” the admiral erupted, just as another explosion rocked the ship. “This is mutiny, Diana!” yelled Admiral Byrd, spit spraying out of his mouth.

  She bowed her head, knowing full well what she had just done. “I'm sorry, Admiral.” Her image blinked out and the bluish-clear screen in front of the holostage disappeared.

  The admiral fell back into his seat. After a moment, he said, “Brigger, give the coordinates to all of the starships. Once all Thunderbirds land, we jump.”

  ∞

  “All remaining Thunderbirds are accounted for and in the nest, Admiral.” Brigger was wearing a big smile as he wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead. It was the moment they had all been waiting for, the jump countdown. It was something they had done many times before, although always to coordinates less than a mile away. It was a common enough procedure, accomplished once a month, and a practice created long ago by bored and weary soldiers whom they had never met. But, they had never jumped out of their own system to a new place entirely, potentially to new worlds, new suns. There had never been a need.

  Sitting at the helm next to the admiral, second in command Captain Louise Stripe spoke. “I have to remind you, Admiral, Starbase Matrona has never before made a jump of this type.”

  The admiral's face was firm and unwavering. “I have to trust the technology, Captain.”

  “And if it doesn't work?”

  Another blast jostled the ship, causing a couple of crewmen to fall to the floor. Eden rushed over and helped them up, then quickly moved back to her post, readying for the jump.

  The admiral placed his hand on the Captain’s forearm, squeezing it gently. “I don't have an answer.”

  Captain Stripe’s blond eyebrows drew closer together as she clutched her uniform's collar. “All of those people on Matrona will die if it doesn't jump and meet with our coordinates. They will be blown to hell, sir.”

  “There is nothing more I can do, Captain.” He looked at Brigger. “On my mark.” He took a deep breath. “Three...Two—”

  “Starship Intrabus down, sir!” yelled Brigger, eyes meeting with the admiral. “Gone, Admiral.”

  Still staring at Brigger, the admiral touched his chin as if going to scratch it. Hope and luck seemed to be deserting them.

  “All com links open?” he asked, and Brigger nodded. “All remaining fleet, jump at will!”

  ∞

  Outside, a round device no larger than the size of a pea shot from one of the red pyramids looming around Planet Lumus. On it was a blinking, orange light. It sped through space, spinning and seeking its target as it flew. The device, nearing its intended destination, extended a suction device out of its tiny belly just before it hit, and forcefully suctioned itself to a large, gray ship, right next to the lettering Starship Brigantia.

  A moment later, Brigantia, in addition to the small, round device, lit up like a star and vanished from space.

  ∞

  Admiral Byrd stood on the bridge studying a large, green planet on the vid screen. “Where, exactly, are we, Brigger?”

  Brigger looked at his HDC. “We picked coordinates zero-seven-nine. We're still in the Andarta System, Circinus Galaxy, three light years away from Lumus, sir.” The last words fell off his tongue, as if he had just realized how far away from home they’d really gone.

  “Have they all made it?” asked the admiral, more concerned about his fleet than anything else.

  The admiral held his breath as Brigger stared at his console, hesitated, and then replied with a doubting, “Yes, sir.”

  The admiral exhaled a sigh of relief.

  “Wait—Admiral.” Brigger dropped his forehead to his hand on the console. “No.”

  The admiral quickly moved around his command chair and stood over Brigger. “What do you mean no? Where are they?”

  To answer the question, Brigger’s head moved up and down over the console. “Yes and no, sir. Starship Taranis made it.” Then his voice reflected dismay. “As we knew before the jump, Starship Sirona chose to stay, but Starbase Matrona is nowhere in sight, Admiral.”

  Captain Stripe looked at the admiral, fear in her eyes as worry lines crinkled across her forehead. “Orders, sir?”

  “We stand fast.” He walked to his chair and sat, looking up at the vid screen, narrowing his eyes in search of any possible spark that might be the starbase. “She will come.” His mind was full of doubt, though. It was still full of the chaos he had witnessed on Matrona's flight deck while en route to his own ship. He figured they probably hadn’t been able to pull it together for the jump, and may not have even heard the coordinates in the first place. There was no leader, no sense of anyone taking charge on Matrona, and no one stepping up when it was most needed. Although he hadn't seen Matrona become a ball of flame, he figured they didn't have a chance at all, now that they’d been left to fend for themselves.

  His mind turned to the destruction taking place before the jump. Six starships lost, one left behind, and only two, including his, made the jump. Over two thousand Thunderbird pilots dead, with Starbase Matrona missing.

  For nearly ten minutes, all was silent on the bridge as they waited for their home, their mother ship, to join them. “Systems check, Brigger,” stated Admiral Byrd, disrupting the quiet.

  Brigger had to swallow hard over the lump in his throat. There was a long pause; he couldn't take his eyes off the HDC.

  “Brigger!” repeated Admiral Byrd.

  Brigger jumped, startled by the admiral’s sudden bark. He tore his eyes away from the HDC and turned to see the admiral's stern face. “Yes, sir?”

  “What is the status of our ship, Lieutenant?”

  Brigger looked back at the HDC, and then gazed in the admiral's direction. He didn't know why this order was necessary at t
he moment.

  “Speak, Brigger!” snapped Captain Stripe, swiping blond hair out of her eyes.

  Brigger jumped again, looking around the bridge. All eyes were upon him, as if the information he was about to give was the most important information in the universe. He placed his finger on the HDC, watching it change from Sonar to Status Check. “We're not looking good, Admiral. Two percent shields, 19 percent ion blasters remaining, 23 percent ion photons remaining, 98 percent engine functioning, 99 percent hangar deck functioning, hyper drives 50 percent, almost all long and short range sensors off line, aquaponics—” He gasped, lifting his hand to his chest and shaking his head. He had stopped mid-sentence, even though there were more systems remaining on the checklist.

  “Brigger, is something the matter?” questioned the admiral.

  Eden walked over to Brigger, tapped him on the shoulder and whispered into his ear. He nodded and stood up, walked over to Eden's station, trading places with her. Eden sat down in Brigger's station ready to continue where Brigger had failed, but then she froze, eyes wide and staring at the HDC. “We need Matrona here, sir.”

  The admiral twitched his nose, annoyed. He knew what they needed. They all knew what they needed. Eden pointed to the HDC, showing the admiral what Brigger had just seen, and the admiral's eyes widened for a moment, and then he scanned the room, checking to see if anyone saw his tell. Any chance of survival had just decreased tenfold. He nodded his head, stating the obvious, “Yes, we need Matrona.”

  The admiral sat in his command chair, falling into deep thought, until he said, “Open com link to Starship Taranis.”

  Eden pressed a button on the HDC. A low voice sounded through, an image appearing on the holostage. “Admiral Jenkyns here.”

  “How's your ship?” asked Admiral Byrd.

  “Our ship has sustained heavy damage. Do you want me to go through the systems check with you?”

  “No,” responded Admiral Byrd.

  “I hope Starship Brigantia has fared significantly better than ours.”