The Star Cross (2 page)

“Ready to
jump,” reported Captain Randson, as he listened to the readiness reports from
various ships over the short-range comms. His eyes focused on the admiral,
still studying the large tactical screen on the front wall of the Command Center.

Kurt nodded.
There was no point in waiting. Pressing the fleetwide button on his command
console, he announced, “All ships, initiate jump in sixty seconds. All ships to
fire upon targets as soon as you exit hyperspace. Don’t wait on orders from the
flag to engage. The element of surprise is essential if we want to win this
battle. Good luck and good hunting.”

Captain Randson
activated a counter on his console. “Helm, prepare for hyperspace insertion.” Randson
buckled himself in his chair in preparation for combat maneuvers.

The hyperspace
jump would only last a few seconds. Kurt, like everyone else, wondered what
they would find when they reached Earth.

“Tactical,
ready the main particle beam cannon,” ordered Kurt, noting the increased
activity in the command crew as they prepared for combat. “Lock on the enemy’s
nearest capital ship and fire as soon as you have a confirmed firing solution.”
The cannon could only be fired once every forty seconds due to heat buildup.
They needed every shot to count.

“Weapons are
ready,” reported Lieutenant Evelyn Mays from Tactical.

The counter on
Captain Randson’s console reached zero. “Jump!” ordered Randson, his hands
gripping the armrests on his command chair.

-

High Profiteer
Creed of the Gothan Empire stood in the Command Center of the Profiteer ship
Ascendant
Destruction
. He was bipedal and slightly taller than a human, with light blue
skin and coarse white hair. His face, while humanoid, had larger-than-normal
eyes. The last few days had been quiet, while he awaited the return of the rest
of his ships, plus the others he had sent for: a large fleet of detainee ships
and a number of heavy cargo ships.

The Gothan
Empire, with planet Marsten as its capital, was a loose federation of 118 star
systems that routinely raided many of the civilized races of the galaxy. It was
a dangerous living, but the huge rewards from the bounty collected more than
offset the danger.

“We’ll make
huge profits from this planet,” gloated Second Profiteer Lantz, as he gazed at
the main viewscreen on the front wall of the Command Center, depicting the
blue-white planet beneath them. “Their people will sell well in the slave
markets on Kubitz.”

“Their world
is rich in many things that will bring good profits on the black markets,”
added Creed, recalling his last trip to the bustling black market world. “Gold,
platinum, jewels, and even some of their art will add much to our coffers.”

Hundreds of
alien races could be found on the planet Kubitz, either selling or buying, some
of it openly and some done in the back rooms of the pleasure houses. It was
also a very dangerous place for someone unfamiliar with the workings of the
black market system. People were known to vanish quite routinely, and the local
authorities always seemed to look the other way.

“We were
fortunate to find this world in this backwater system,” Lantz said. “Few ships
have ventured into this area where the stars are so far apart.”

“We can thank
the Kreel for that,” Creed said. “Several of their cargo ships have reported unknown
ships detected by their satellite marker buoys in a number of systems they have
claimed. It wasn’t difficult for the computers on Marsten to correlate the data
and extrapolate the most likely location of those ships’ home world.”

Lantz nodded
in agreement.

Though it
hadn’t been quite that simple, as the computers had given them an area of space
nearly thirty light-years across, which had contained quite a few stars, even
in this sparse region. The Profiteer fleet had searched for two weeks before finally
pinning down the system they sought.

“It is well
that we found this system when we did,” Lantz said with greed showing in his eyes.
“They had a sizable fleet and, in a few more years, would have been too
powerful to overwhelm without major losses. They still remain hesitant to obey
our demands, even after we destroyed their cities. More examples might need to
be made.”

Before Creed
could reply, warning klaxons sounded, and red lights flashed in the Command Center. His eyes instantly went to the sensor operator. “What’s with the alarms?”
he demanded.

“We have ships
exiting hyperspace,” reported Third Profiteer Bixt, as red threat icons appeared
on the sensor screen before him. Then, after a moment, he looked at First
Profiteer Creed with astonishment on his face. “They’re human!”

“We didn’t get
them all,” muttered Lantz.

-

Admiral
Vickers felt the familiar gut-wrenching sensation as the
Star Cross
dropped from hyperspace within close proximity to its intended target. The
tactical screen quickly updated, showing the alien ships in orbit around Earth.

“Energy shield
is coming online,” reported Captain Randson.

“Target lock!”
called out Lieutenant Evelyn Mays, as green lights flashed on her console.
“Firing particle beam cannon.” She reached forward and pressed several buttons,
activating the deadly weapon. Beside her, two ensigns entered targeting
information for the ship’s heavy KEW batteries and prepared to fire the ship’s
missiles.

-

From the
Star
Cross
, a deep blue beam flashed across space, smashing into the targeted enemy
battlecruiser. Its defensive energy screen was operating at a low level, which
failed to stop the beam. A massive explosion tore into the cruiser, leaving a
gaping hole fifteen meters across in its hull and blasting a huge fragment off into
space. The ship seemed to stagger, as valuable systems inside were compromised
and ceased to function. Several secondary explosions rattled the ship, sending
waves of fire through shattered interior compartments and corridors.

From the bow
of the
Star Cross
, the two heavy KEW cannons fired, sending a pair of large
armor-piercing rounds at 10 percent the speed of light toward the reeling enemy
cruiser. The rounds impacted the alien ship, tearing completely through it,
setting off additional explosions. The energy generated was like twin nuclear
explosions. With a brilliant flash, the battlecruiser blew, sending debris in
all directions.

“Enemy battlecruiser
is down!” Lieutenant Brooks reported with elation, as the red threat icon
swelled up on her sensor screen and then vanished.

“We caught
them before they could raise their shields!” uttered Captain Randson, his eyes
shining with a wolfish glint. “We surprised them, just like they did when they
attacked Earth.”

“Switch to
secondary target,” ordered Kurt, as he intently watched the tactical screen,
seeing what success his other ships were having. They had to hit the enemy
quick and hard if they were to have any hope of victory.

“The
Hampton
has downed a second enemy battlecruiser,” reported Brooks, as she saw
another red icon vanish from her screen.

“
Vindication
is jumping in!” added Captain Randson, seeing more green icons appear on the
tactical screen. “We caught them flatfooted!”

-

First
Profiteer Creed picked himself up from the deck, looking around the Command Center in anger. “What’s happening!” he demanded, as his gaze shifted to the ship’s
tactical screen. He could see numerous red threat icons appearing nearby. They
were appearing almost on top of his fleet!

“It’s a human
fleet, and they’re attacking,” reported Second Profiteer Lantz breathlessly.
“We’ve already lost the
Warriors Pride
and the
Addax
. The enemy
is using a powerful particle beam weapon against us and kinetics.”

“Particle
beams and kinetics!” roared Creed in disbelief, his eyes growing wide.

He knew that,
for most warships, particle beams were impractical—as they required a
tremendous amount of energy and needed a long cool-down time between firings.
Most Gothan ships were armed with ion cannons, energy projectors, and missiles,
which were cheap and efficient. Kinetics were a thing of the past and had been
given up to be replaced by more modern weapons. No one used kinetics anymore!

“One of the
new arrivals is a carrier of some kind,” Third Profiteer Bixt warned. “It’s
launching smaller warships toward us.”

“We’ve lost
four of our escorts,” said Lantz, watching the ships drop off the tactical
screen. He groaned and murmured, “My profits … the pleasure houses …” Then he reported,
“All our ships have their shields up and are returning fire, but I fear we’ve
already lost too many. The
Glimmer Fire
is reporting heavy damage, and
they’re asking permission to withdraw.”

The
Glimmer
Fire
was their only other remaining battlecruiser besides the
Ascendant
Destruction
. Creed looked at the viewscreen, which showed numerous
explosions in space. He could even see the flash of a few beam weapons. “Order all
ships to jump!” he grated out, knowing that he had no other choice but to
withdraw or risk being destroyed.

They were in
this for profits, not to lose expensive warships! He would return to Kubitz and
come back with a much more powerful fleet. This planet was too rich to allow a
single human fleet to keep him from it. The humans could have the planet for
now, but, in time, he and his much larger force would retake it. He would also
have to intercept the detainee and cargo ships on their way here and have them
return to the Kubitz System.

-

“We’ve taken
out two more of their light units,” Captain Randson added, watching as a pair
of red icons fell off the tactical screen.

Andrew Randson
breathed a little easier. At this rate, they would win the battle, and then, as
soon as possible, he intended to take a shuttle to Houston and evacuate his
family. He knew others would be doing the same thing.

“Destroyer
Brant
is down,” Lieutenant Brooks reported grimly, as the friendly green icon
representing the small destroyer vanished from the sensor screen.

Kurt winced at
that news. It was the first ship under his command he had ever lost.

“Enemy ships
are showing an energy spike,” Lieutenant Brooks informed them, per one of her
sensors. “They’re activating their hyperdrives.”

Kurt switched
his gaze to a large viewscreen just in time to see one of the two remaining
enemy battlecruisers jump away. On the tactical screen, other red threat icons also
vanished.

“Their last battlecruiser
is too damaged to jump,” Brooks reported, as the enemy ship turned toward them
with its weapons firing. “They’re attacking!”

Kurt felt the
Star
Cross
shudder slightly as an energy beam struck the ship’s screen.

“Some type of
ion beam is hitting us,” Lieutenant Brooks reported, looking at the data on one
of her sensor screens.

“The shield is
holding at 84 percent,” Captain Randson said.

“Particle beam
is recharged,” Lieutenant Mays stated, as she targeted the alien battlecruiser.
“Firing!”

-

The deep blue particle
beam smashed into the
Glimmer Fire
, flashing right through its weakened
defensive energy screen. A huge hole was blasted in its bow, and the ship
seemed to lose all power. Two heavy KEW rounds from the human’s bow cannons plowed
into the Profiteer ship, traveling nearly its entire length, and then the vessel
detonated in a blaze of light as too many vital systems were compromised.

-

“All enemy
ships have either jumped or been destroyed,” reported Lieutenant Brooks,
breathing a sigh of relief. “We have control of Earth orbital space.”

Kurt nodded,
allowing himself to relax. This battle had gone far better than expected. “Get
me Captain Watkins. I’ll have the
Vindication
check out the shipyard. We
may need their Marines to secure it.” Kurt turned his attention back toward one
of the viewscreens, which showed Earth.

“Now let’s try
to contact someone down on the surface and see just what the hell is going on!”

Denise Hunter looked
up at the star-studded night sky with renewed hope, after hearing the recent
horror stories on the few news broadcasts they had been able to get. For two
weeks the world had been held in the tight grip of their alien conquerors. At first
the governments of the world had refused to cooperate and had paid a terrible
price in the loss of a number of cities. Denise knew that, in the North American
Union, both Chicago and Washington, DC, had been struck. Hundreds of thousands
of people suffered from radiation sickness. The total number of dead from the
attacks remained unknown but was believed to be in the millions.

Over the last
few minutes she had seen brilliant flashes of light, briefly lighting up the
night sky in a furious frenzy. She knew she watched an ongoing battle being fought
in space. The only ships Earth still possessed that could rally such a fight was
her brother’s fleet, which had been at Newton on maneuvers.

“Please let it
be Kurt, and please keep him safe.” She spoke softly, as the flashes died away.
The last few weeks had been terrifying, and she was ready for the nightmare to
end.

“Is it Uncle
Kurt?” asked Bryan in his childish voice, looking up at the flashes.

At six years old,
he didn’t understand the recent events or what the bright flashes in the night
sky were.

“They’re
pretty,” he said with a big smile.

“They’ve
stopped,” Alex said, standing just behind his son. Glancing about the neighborhood,
he could see a lot of people outside, looking up toward space and speaking
excitedly.

“Are the
pretty lights coming back?” Bryan asked his father.

“I don’t
know,” responded Alex, putting his hand protectively on Bryan’s shoulder, squeezing
gently, and gazing at Denise.

“Alex!” yelled
Claude, one of their nearby neighbors. “The TV’s on, and the president’s making
an announcement.”

“Let’s go
inside,” Alex said, reaching out and taking Denise’s hand. “Maybe we can find
out what just happened.”

Since the
attack, the TV had only been on sporadically. The government of the North
American Union had been strangely silent, perhaps afraid the aliens would
discover where they were hiding.

Bryan ran to the kitchen. “I’m getting a drink first.”

“I’m glad to
hear the president’s still alive,” Denise said, as they entered their house in
a secluded residential development just east of Houston.

There had been
no formal word as to what had happened to the president and others in the government
once reports had reached Denise that Washington, DC, had been destroyed. The nuclear
blasts and the ensuing fallout had supposedly killed millions. She had heard unconfirmed
rumors that the government had gone underground, and was in hiding. The brief reports
issued over the TV had instructed everyone to stay indoors and to not leave
their homes unless absolutely necessary. At least the power had remained on,
and several local radio stations had stayed on the air, informing people where to
go for food and emergency services.

“If the
president announces the aliens have left,” suggested Denise with hope in her
eyes, “maybe that had been Kurt’s fleet in orbit, and he drove off the
invaders.” She couldn’t imagine her brother not returning, once he learned what
had happened to Earth.

“We’ll see,”
Alex said noncommittally, as he turned on the TV and sat down with Denise next
to him on the couch. “Don’t get your hopes up yet. We don’t know if the aliens
attacked Newton as well. Those flashes of lights could have even been two
different alien fleets battling it out for control of Earth.”

The TV came on,
and the emergency broadcast emblem appeared with words scrolling across the
screen, stating that the president would be making an announcement shortly.

“Do you want
some coffee?” asked Denise, looking at her husband. They were fortunate that they
had a well-stocked pantry. Alex was always teasing her for having so much food
in the house. Denise disliked spending time at the supermarket, so, when she
did go, she bought in volume. That way she wouldn’t have to return anytime
soon.

“Later,” Alex
said, squeezing Denise’s hand. “Let’s see what the president has to say.”

“Is the TV coming
on?” Bryan asked, his eyes growing wide, walking slowly with his drink in hand.
“I want to watch cartoons!”

“Maybe later,”
Denise answered with a smile. “We have some of your favorite shows recorded,
and, if you eat a good supper, we can watch one later.”

“The one about
the horse,” announced Bryan, sitting down with his parents. “I like that one.”

“Sure,” Denise
promised, as the emergency broadcast emblem suddenly vanished, and the president
appeared on the screen. “Now be quiet, so Mommy and Daddy can hear the TV for a
moment. Can you do that for me?”

Bryan nodded his head enthusiastically.

“People of the
North American Union,” President Mayfield began in a steady voice, “I come to
you tonight with important news. Two weeks ago the answer to whether we are
alone in the universe was answered. In a very decisive and aggressive manner.
Alien ships appeared in our orbital space and launched an unprovoked attack against
our orbiting spacecraft. Most of our ships were quickly destroyed, and only a
few managed to escape.” The president paused, as if making sure of his words.

“As we learned
from one of our fleet’s survivors, the aliens are called Profiteers. They’re a
race who raids planets, and strips them of their wealth and anything else of significant
value. Once they secured the space around our planet, they issued demands,
instructing us to gather up gold, platinum, jewels, and other valuables at
specific sites to be picked up. When we refused to do so, they nuked a number
of cities around the planet. In our own country, Chicago and Washington, DC, were lost. Civilian casualties from those two attacks are expected to reach ten to
twelve million.”

“So many
people,” Denise said, shaking her head. “It’s difficult to imagine the horror
of what it must be like living close to either one of those cities.”

“And that’s
just in our country,” Alex said with a heavy sigh. “Claude said he heard that Rome and Cairo were also nuked.”

The president
continued. “There have been unconfirmed rumors that a number of humans were taken
away on some of the alien ships. As of this time, we have been unable to
substantiate those reports.”

“I hope that’s
not true—the aliens abducting people,” continued Denise.

“The president
said it wasn’t confirmed,” Alex reminded her. “Those rumors have been circulating
for several days.”

“Fortunately
not all of our space fleet was destroyed in the original battle,” President
Mayfield continued. “A large task group was at Newton, undergoing special
maneuvers. The light cruiser
Johnas
was heavily damaged in the battle
above Earth but managed to escape into hyperspace, and so Captain Owens informed
Admiral Kurt Vickers about what had transpired. Admiral Vickers returned to
Earth a short time ago and destroyed part of the Profiteer fleet in Earth orbit,
forcing the rest to withdraw.”

“It
was
Kurt!” Denise said, her face lighting up. She leaned forward, closer to the TV,
wanting to hear every word. “I knew it!”

“But how long
will the aliens stay away?” questioned Alex, raising an eyebrow. “We don’t know
how big a fleet they might have.”

“Is Uncle Kurt
coming to see us?” asked Bryan.

Denise smiled.
She knew how much Bryan liked his uncle. Uncle Kurt always brought him special
gifts whenever he visited.

“We don’t
know,” answered Denise. She hoped her older brother would find some way to send
a message. “Be quiet and listen to the TV.”

“I will
shortly be contacting other world leaders to determine our future path of action
during this time of uncertainty,” Mayfield continued, his eyes looking directly
into the camera. “I am ordering everyone to report to their jobs as normal
tomorrow. We need to get the stores open and our economy running again. I am
also ordering the military to ensure no looting or price gouging occurs during
this emergency. People caught doing either will be severely prosecuted.”

“We better
fill up the vehicles with gas and stock up on groceries,” uttered Alex, looking
over at Denise for a long and thoughtful moment. “I’ll also see about getting a
portable generator for power. If the aliens come back, who knows what might
happen.”

“We should
talk to Kurt,” Denise replied. She was certain that her brother would be
contacting her shortly.

“We will,”
Alex promised, as his gaze returned to the TV. “I’m sure he will better
understand what’s going on.”

“Our world has
suffered a great disaster in this attack and many lives have been lost,” President
Mayfield continued. His face took on a very serious and determined look. “As president
of the North American Union, I promise to do everything in my power to protect
our people and keep our planet safe. In the morning when you get up, take
comfort in the fact that our space fleet is in orbit around Earth, ready to
defend us if necessary. It may take a while, but our lives will return to
normal, but we will never forget those who died such a violent death. I just
want to ask each and every one of you to do your part to ensure that happens.
As soon as we know more, I will give another address. Thank you for your time.”

The TV
switched to a message stating that normal programming would resume at 6:00 a.m.

“I guess
that’s all they’re going to say,” Alex said, leaning back on the sofa, deep in
thought.

“So you think
the aliens will come back?” asked Denise, putting her arm around Bryan and pulling him close.

“Let me go!” Bryan said, squirming away. “I want to go play.”

“Go play in
your room,” suggested Denise, allowing their son to get up. “I’ll check on you
shortly.”

“Then can we
watch the horse movie?” asked Bryan, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes,” Denise
answered with a patient smile. “After supper we’ll all come in here and watch
the horses.”

-

In a secret
underground bunker deep beneath a mountain in southern Canada, President Mayfield looked around at his Cabinet. Not all the members had made it
out of Washington, DC.

Mayfield had
barely won the last election in a heated battle against his opponent. There had
been a lot of mud-slinging, and it had left a bad taste within the political
scene. Several new campaign laws had been passed to ensure that such activity
didn’t occur again. Mayfield sincerely hoped there would be future elections.
It would indicate this threat from the Profiteers had been eliminated.

Since the USA, Canada, and Mexico had eliminated their borders and established the North American Union, no
elected president had faced a threat such as the one Mayfield faced today. Some
important decisions needed to be made, and some of them would be very
difficult. He knew what they were about to do would probably anger several of
his Cabinet members.

“What’s the
status of Admiral Vickers’s fleet?” asked Mayfield, looking expectantly toward
Fleet Admiral Tomalson.

“He has his battlecruiser,
a light carrier, four light cruisers, and now five destroyers. One destroyer
was lost in the brief battle fought in Earth orbit,” replied Fleet Admiral
Tomalson, glancing down at a sheet of paper on the conference table before him.

Tomalson was
an older man, graying around the temples, verging on retirement, when he had
been offered the esteemed Cabinet post.

“There are
also a few destroyers based at Newton which he didn’t bring.”

“Can he keep
these Profiteers from attacking Earth again?” asked Secretary of State Anne
Roselin.

She had barely
escaped Washington before the first nuke fell.

Fleet Admiral
Tomalson let out a deep breath and looked around the small group of men and
women. “No,” he said with a deep sigh. “He caught them by surprise, and the new
particle beam cannons were quite effective. His task force got several kills
before the Profiteers could fully raise their shields. The admiral and I have a
strong suspicion they’ll be back and with a much larger fleet. When they do, Admiral
Vickers will not be able to keep them from attacking Earth.”

“But it’s his
job,” grunted out Secretary of Labor Marlen Stroud. “That’s why we allocated
the funds to build the fleet.”

A lot of
heated arguments had occurred between Cabinet members about spending so much
for a fleet of warships that might never be needed. Finally several other
countries, including the European Union, had agreed to help foot the bill.
Several ships with European personnel on board had been a part of the two fleets
destroyed in Earth orbit.

“If we order
him to stay and defend the planet, he will,” replied Fleet Admiral Tomalson.
“But to do so will be the end of his fleet and of any hope to free our planet
in the future.”

The room was
silent, as everyone digested what Tomalson had just said. No one liked the implications.

“Then what do
we do?” asked General Braid, the secretary of defense. “If we order our ground military
units to fight, the Profiteers will just bomb them from orbit. The few units
that tried to resist the original attack were annihilated by missile strikes.
The same goes for any jet fighters we launch.”

“We send
Admiral Vickers back to Newton with as many people as we can possibly evacuate,”
answered Tomalson, leaning forward, his voice sounding determined. “We relocate
off planet as many scientists, technicians, scholars, teachers, physicians, and
whoever else we determine might be useful in the war effort. Perhaps, if given
the necessary time to build a bigger fleet and more particle beam cannons, the
admiral’s fleet can return and drive the Profiteers from Earth permanently.”