Here's an excerpt of chapter one of my new book We’ve Seen the Enemy. For more info on where you can download this ebook, go to www.pauldaytonscifi.com.
Prologue
Excerpt from Ivanov’s last log, now sung as a children’s rhyme:
The first ant looked up at the sky and said: “I think it’s a big egg because it’s round.
The second ant looked up at the sky and said: “I think it’s the sun because it’s shiny.
The third ant looked up at the sky and said: “I think it’s the moon because it’s not warm.
The fourth ant looked at the three and said: “You’re ALL wrong. It’s Thor’s Hammer, and it’s coming…”
Keenan sat on the Abadon’s bridge watching the split viewscreen in front of him, his attention divided by the two items displayed.
At the moment, the five surviving members of the crew were at their stations, dressed in full uniform and wearing their small but distinguished VALOR IN DEATH decoration on their chests. Keenan wasn’t so sure he should be wearing his. The rare medal was normally awarded posthumously to any volunteer who, knowing he or she would not survive the mission, agreed to fulfill mission objectives nonetheless. Keenan and his crewmembers, both those still alive on the bridge and the dead ones resting in Sanctuary in the front of the ship had all been awarded that medal while still alive, something that had never happened before. And here was the problem staring him in the face.
On the left side of the holographic viewscreen was the alien homeworld they were commissioned to destroy - surrounded by hundreds of thousands of dismantled, shredded or exploded pieces of space junk that had either been launched into space and discarded or towed to near planet orbit from some sucker planet, stripped and abandoned.
‘What to do…’ he said to himself as he stared at this nightmare. He turned to the bridge crew and repeated his question out loud this time.
“I think we should take our chances with the cloak,” Jane said. “The ants have nothing like this, and even if they see our lasers clearing a path, they’ll be confused. It will buy us time.”
“It´ll be a hell of a lot of laser firing once we get near Low Planetary Orbit,” Mike countered.
“Yeah. Once they get wind of us, we’ll have to chuck the cloak and use the shields.” John added.
Jane frowned at the idea. “Do that, and the shiny mirror surface will be seen clear back to Earth. It’ll be suicide with those planetary lasers.”
“Well, this is a suicide ship, you know.”
Keenan listened to the back and forth argument between the three. Ivanov was the only quiet one, lost in thought as he watched the right side of the viewscreen. They hadn’t yet gotten to the issue of the 142 ounces of antimatter in the containment bay.
“What of the antimatter?” Keenan finally asked. “If a piece of space junk slams into the containment bay, we’re toast.”
“All the more reason to use the shields,” John said.
Keenan hated both ideas.
And then there was the second object displayed on the split screen.
He studied the image closely. The medical supply ship St. Helena sat in the center-right with all running lights off, rotating slowly on the 3D screen. According to his most recent records, she had a crew of one hundred fifty plus injured and medical supplies. It slowly sailed by, ‘Dead-In-Water’ from the two alien Disabler mines on its hull. An unmanned alien tug was towing it to the same planet orbit that contained all the other space junk.
‘Damn,’ he said to himself again. He thought of his dead wife and daughter, and of those on the medical ship. ‘If the aliens haven’t killed the crew already, they’ll soon be dead anyway,’ he thought, not realizing he had mumbled the words out loud.
“It’s possible they’re still alive Captain,” Jane said. She had recently been promoted to Targeting following the death of Alexie, and Keenan laughed as he thought about it. Promoted. They’d be dead in six hours, one way or the other. His aptly named ship - Abadon, an old Hebrew word that meant ‘annihilation’, would end up doing the very same to them.
Jane continued her argument. “Being a medical ship, life support would be set up separately from all other systems and insulated against power failure, including DB’s.”
Keenan thought about her past – orphan, abandoned on Nigel Prime, living off the streets but somehow making it as a service fighter and ultimately getting here. As if this was some reward.
“Sir?”
His mind wandered to Ivanov, the ship’s magician, now sitting painfully erect at the engineering console watching the display of the St. Helena. His mastery of machines meant he could make even the most hopeless piece of junk work. At the moment he was dying a slow death from body rot and had only been able to drink simulated chocolate milk for the last two months. How he kept up his strength was a mystery to everyone.
He watched John and Mike listening in to Jane’s comments. They were quietly scanning the freighter for life signs. Keenan was about to say something but noticed it was only a level one scan, and he was enjoying their sneaky attempt and the cat and mouse game they were playing with him.
“Find anything?” he finally asked.
“Find what?” Mike replied, embarrassed that he was caught.
“We was doin notin, boss,” John added, doing his mobster impression. His attempt at humor was seriously sub-par, as the final moments of their lives was emphasized by the objective slowly rotating on the screen. The last two days had really taken their toll, and Keenan had made a note of Mike and John’s continued efforts at keeping morale up. He wanted to make sure EVERYONE knew they died true heroes, and had been updating his logs to reflect this.
Having served with both of them on Helo Prime, he was amazed they hadn’t been killed yet. He was sure they had used up all nine lives, and then some. Of the twenty two who had started out on this mission, he felt only a little guilty at the pleasant thought that these two had made it this far. He knew that the light banter was only a façade, but the twins helped relieve the heavy stress resting on all their shoulders right now.
“We can’t just let them die…”
Keenan mentally sighed. It was obvious Jane wouldn’t let this go, but he didn’t bother replying. Nobody here wanted anyone to die. Still, their only mission was to destroy the homeworld, and he couldn’t allow anything to put that mission at risk. The silence became awkward as Keenan sat there. The split viewscreen didn’t help, with the planet on the right and the St. Helena on the left. The cloaked Abadon was 100 meters off her starboard side while he went back to the task of figuring out the issue with the homeworld.
Ivanov cleared his throat. “Sir, I have an idea.” Keenan watched as he turned in his direction, wincing in pain.
“We can use that alien tug. Three of us can drop down to the freighter, disarm the DB’s and prepare to spool up the generators…”
Keenan considered interrupting, but his respect for Ivanov kept him quiet.
“A fourth would drop onto the tug, get inside and reprogram it to continue without the freighter to planetary orbit. I stay on board, and our cloaked ship trails behind in the tug’s shadow, allowing the tug to open the way for us through the debris. Once the tug reaches Low Planetary Orbit, I pop out from behind it and drive the Abadon home.
The freighter stays inactive until mission is completed, and then it escapes, to the wonder and amazement of the idiot ants. Just think, it’ll be like Santa sneaking down the chimney to deliver the gift!”
Keenan, who had been only half listening was now paying rapt attention to what Ivanov had just finished saying. ‘I’ll-be-damned’, he mumbled to himself as a rare smile showed on his face. The plan wasn’t perfect, but it was close.
“Input.”
“I like it,” Jane said. “Except the part where you stay behind.”
‘Yeah, you would,’ Keenan thought to himself.
“Well, it’s all good,” John countered, “but I can see what you have up your sleeve, Ivan. It’s a little greedy, I would have to say.”
“Yeah,” Mike added, “You’re just a glory pig. I could see the headlines: ‘Ivan the Terrible, single-handedly bringing down an enemy empire yadayadayada’. Don’t think we didn’t see that. And anyway, it’s been done. By Ivan the Terrible. People would just get confused if there were two of you. Give someone else a chance-”
“Yeah,” John said. “Mike’s right, for once. So Captain, plan is perfect except it should be Mike and me staying.”
Keenan waited for Jane to say something and wasn’t disappointed.
“Nope. Should be me,” Jane said. “You two pussies don’t know your right from your left. I’ve watched you trying to tie your shoelaces. I can multitask, and I can do it better.” Jane’s face darkened as she said the next words. “Captain, all kidding aside, it should be me and you know it.” Mike and John didn’t know how to reply. They hadn’t seen shoelaces since they entered the elite Combat Command Team.
“Jane, no. But thank you,” Ivanov said. He and Keenan looked at each other with knowing eyes. There were only two people here who could do this alone. “Thank you to all, I appreciate your…sacrifice. But-”
“Ivanov, you continue to surprise me,” Keenan said, cutting him short. “Your plan is perfect. Get suited up, the four of you, and prepare to drop. I’m staying behind. Don’t worry Ivanov, you’ll get credit for the idea.”
Everyone started to protest, but Keenan raised his hand to silence them. He had made his decision. Refusing to look into Jane’s eyes, he got up and rested his hand lightly on Ivanov’s shoulder. “Ivanov, that’s a medical ship. M-E-D-I-C-A-L. They have medicine and equipment that can cure you. If you think there’s any way I was getting off this ship in your place, you’re very mistaken.”
“But sir, it’s my plan. And at this stage it’s too late anyway…”
“My order stands!” he barked, looking at all of them to make sure they understood they had just crossed the line. He knew Jane would take it hard. She had never made her feelings openly known to Keenan, but he could clearly see she loved him. Ivanov, however, had just given them all a lease on life, and this was the best Keenan could do. They all loved Ivanov dearly and everyone knew he likely wouldn’t make it, but Keenan was grateful and wanted to make sure Ivanov would at least get the chance.
He looked at the alien planet with a renewed hope that they could pull this off after all. Payback would be late in coming. 743 years late, to be exact. But it would definitely be a bitch…
Chapter 1
Slight complications…
Jack picked her usual spot, trying hard not to be noticed which was next to impossible. Lithe, tall and unusually dark for one who had spent all her life on board a stellar craft, it was her mysterious grey eyes that were known to stop people in mid sentence. At the moment, no one was stopped in the unusually busy cafeteria that doubled as an impromptu social area.
She cringed as she saw Susan come near. “It wasn’t your fault, Jaclyn,” her wingman said. Very few people knew Jack’s real name, and Susan was one of them.
That morning on a training run her student, Mike ‘The Knife’ as he liked to call himself piloted his ship head on into a rock. Jack had spied the failing thruster just before it happened but she couldn’t do anything in time. He was one of the best they had, and Jack knew he had an immense crush on her which she played out for fun, but now he was frozen organic space dust. ‘He was only thirteen,’ she had repeated all morning to herself.
She ignored Susan, but soon the others came around too. After hearing repeated “There was nothing you could have done” comments, Jack couldn’t take it any longer and was about to get up and leave when Jason came by and said, “Why all so gloomy? Someone die?”
He realized too late that he had just put his foot in his mouth.
“Oh. Uh, I didn’t mean…I mean, I had no idea…” Jason mumbled as he tried to diffuse the angry stares. Jack felt the gravity generators fail again and took advantage of the opportunity. She had been holding in her anger, but Jason had split it wide open. She launched herself straight at him, giving him a solid blow to his nose as she floated by. The gravity came back on and Jack landed hard, but she picked herself up and walked away.
The crunch she felt as she smacked Scratch in the nose reminded her of the fights she had as a teenager. The kids in school teased her with her name, calling her Jack instead of Jaclyn. The girls were jealous of her quick physical development and early beauty; and the boys were angry she ignored them, which ended up being Class 101 in the school of hard knocks.
Once her parents were reassigned to WF221, she chose to call herself Jack. When people asked why she had a boy’s name, she said it was because she fought like one, and offered free demonstrations. Few took her up on the offer.
“Jack, I didn’t know!” Jason said while holding his bleeding nose, but she had already gone around the corner. He ran after her and eventually caught up.
“Hey, SLOW DOWN!” he said and grabbed her shoulder. She turned, ready to explode at Scratch again but saw the blood covering his old fashioned flight jacket as he held his nose.
“I didn’t know! Honestly! What happened anyway?” he said in a nasal tone.
Her anger simmered down as she saw the concern in his eyes. “Damn computer glitch! Or screwed up thruster! I don’t know. All I know is that he’s dead. He’s thirteen and dead Scratch! It’s bad enough losing someone because he got jacked, but this is just stupid, a stupid waste!”
Jason was quiet for a few seconds as Jack stood there trembling with anger and frustration.
“That’s not your fault Jack and you know it,” he finally said. “And he’s not the only thirteen-year-old killed either. It sucks, but by rights we’ve gone way past our due date too. Those ants should have had our number, but it’s the luck of the draw. And…” here Scratch was guessing, “Mike, I take it…his luck ran out, pure and simple. It really sucks,” he said as he saw her anger flare again, “but there’s nothing any of us can do about it. Except keep on beating those damn ants and pushing our own luck,” he added.
“Lucky for us, we’re smarter than they are,” she said, not particularly including Jason in the comment.
“Yeah,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.
At that moment, the COMBAT klaxon sounded as WF221 geared for battle.
###
“Sir, Unidentified Object in Low Planet Orbit,” Jumal, the acting Tactical Officer said. Commander Dietrich turned to the main Tactical display and watched as a UO, symbolized by a bright yellow triangle in LPO around Beta-9 slowly came into view. The triangle started blinking which made Dietrich very curious, because it confirmed what the object was, but couldn’t discern if it was ‘Friend or Foe’.
“Comp, list specs on main screen.”
Dietrich read the description as a high definition view of the object was finally processed. ‘Class 1 Orbiting Weapons Platform, origin – Human, Second Generation,’ had scrolled down the side, with the standard weapons inventory listed as per database.
“Confirm lack of transponder.” Dietrich couldn’t understand why the platform wasn’t sending a ‘friendly’ symbol.
“Confirmed sir,” Jumal said. “Our systems are fine. Pinged it five times. No Transponder.”
Now Dietrich’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. “Didn’t Intel establish this as unoccupied?”
“Unoccupied, light alien activity.”
“What do you make of it, Captain Hollander?”
The Captain of WF221 looked at the convoy commander and said, “Never heard of this before. If the transponder’s down, you communicate. I would say the platform is no longer ours.”
At that moment, all eyes turned as Council Intelligence Officer Ian Anderson walked onto the bridge. Dietrich didn’t blame them. In the twelve years Anderson had been on WF221, he had NEVER come to the bridge and had remained an enigma to the crew. He silently came to stand by Dietrich’s side to watch Main Tactical.
“Sir, we got more bogeys!” Jumal yelled as two more red triangles now showed up on screen, their tactical information scrolling down the side.
“We’ve got CAP ships! COMBAT ALERT!” Captain Hollander yelled as soon as the info was confirmed.
“Did you know of this?” Dietrich asked the Intel officer, but as usual Anderson remained quiet.
The Commander turned to Tactical with a sour look on his face, tired of the lack of answers he got from the secretive CIA. They had been set up by the Council over seven hundred years before. Rumor was they kept in constant contact. However, no one else had heard from them at all, and Dietrich doubted they even existed anymore.
He watched as the two Cap ships neared the orbital platform.
“Sir, what should we do?” Jumal asked, worried about its fate.
“Nothing, yet,” said Anderson, to Dietrich’s annoyance. “Tell me when they’re in attack range of the platform.”
“They are now sir, and have been for the last two minutes. Two more Cap ships have just jumped in!”
“I see. Captain Hollander, Commander Dietrich, make sure the convoy is aware of the situation, and set an intercept course for the orbital platform. You are to destroy it, and then attack the nearest Capital ship.”
Hollander looked incredulously at Anderson. “You’re telling me I am to position myself between four Capital ships and destroy a human platform, and then each Cap ship in turn? This is your order?” he asked, thinking that it was perhaps some joke.
“Yes,” Anderson said as left the bridge.
Knowing he had no choice, Dietrich confirmed the order and the bridge crew resigned themselves to their inevitable death.
###
Jack was startled by the combat klaxons, but they only meant one thing as she sprinted down the hallway to the launch bay. It was a mad scramble as everyone got ready, surprise showing on almost all their faces. Ever since Abadon destroyed the alien home-world, no one really expected to have to engage aliens in any serious fight. Jack didn’t know what to think. It was true they were hive oriented, but she guessed they could also function far from home independently of their queen. Intel kept quiet on the matter of course. As the saying goes, if you want to know anything, DON’T ask Intel.
As she ran, she thought of the brave crew that accomplished the impossible. From the very beginning no one thought that the mission objective could be achieved. Antimatter was extremely difficult to make, and it was almost impossible to store properly and safely for any length of time. At Luna 13, when ten ounces of antimatter reacted, the 180 petajoules obliterated not only the station, but the moon itself, killing over one thousand people in the process. But to store, transport, and somehow thread their way through enemy defenses and actually reach their target was a true achievement, an incredible win in a long string of losses. Jack would like to have met these heroes. The Russians were still ecstatically celebrating over their dead comrade, a crewmember called Ivanov on the fateful ship. Jack even joined them for a day of drinking from their very well designed still. What would happen now? What would the aliens do? She didn’t know, but after what happened to Mike she was ready to kick some ass and find out.“Nancy, Jack here. Did you check my suit? I had that interface problem the last time…” Jack waited at the wall comm while Nancy searched her memory.
“My Drop Suit? You know, suit to ship interface…got a lot of static, my ship would miss a beat…” she added, frustrated that Nancy couldn’t remember.
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Nancy replied. “The terminals were corroded. Too much moisture and the oxygen was a little rich in the storage compartment. Checked your other links too. Should be fine. Let me know if you have a problem.”
Nancy’s voice carried over to her suit comm as Jack suited up. Within seconds she was being dropped into her ship by the overhead carriage when she heard Nancy’s last words. A firefight was not the time to discover any problems with her interface connections.
“Just one more question Nancy. This morning, my student had some prob with his thruster. Any idea who serviced the ship last?”
“Who was your student?” Nancy said, as the launcher engaged.
Jack chose her words carefully. “It was Mike.”
“Mike, as in Mike the one who-?”
“Yeah. That Mike.” There was a pause and Jack activated Tactical and Targeting while she waited.
“Just checked. Nothing on the logs. Must be corrupted data.”
“R-i-g-h-t…” Jack replied. It was no surprise Nancy wouldn’t say. Mistakes always happened with the overworked crew, but in Ship Repair and Maintenance it usually resulted in injuries or deaths. When an error occurred in this department, it was common practice to delete the maintenance files to prevent revenge and keep things going smoothly. The person in question would normally be reprimanded and dealt with privately.
“Nancy, he was only 13 dammit!”
“And now he’s dead Jack!” Nancy shot back. “What do you expect to come out of this? Someone MAYBE didn’t notice an ignition wire screw loose out of the thousands we have to check every week, and you’re…what? Gonna nail this person’s ass? We’re doing the best we can here. If you don’t think so, come down and give us a hand! Maybe you’ll see why a person can forget to tighten a screw, or check a relay, or miss a short, or the million other things too few of us have to take care of! Now leave me alone. I’ve wasted enough time here and I don’t want to miss anything!”
Jack knew she was right, and hated herself for it all the more.
