The Star Cross (8 page)

“Speaking of
fighters and bombers, can we build a flight bay on the station to handle
several squadrons of each?”

Simms looked
over at Hayworth before replying. “It’ll have to be a complete build. We have
nothing in the plans for such a flight bay.”

“I have plans
that I brought with me,” Hayworth said, as he thought over what would be
involved. “We can make most of the necessary parts in the manufacturing
section. I’m guessing we’ll need at least eight to twelve weeks, once we start
on actual construction.”

“Can the
Dante
be put in the station’s repair bay, or is the damage too severe?”

Simms thumbed
through a couple pages of information on the table in front of him. He picked
up one sheet and studied it. “We can do it,” he said after a moment. “Not sure
of the time it’ll take, as some of this damage is quite extensive.”

“Let’s get on
it,” Kurt ordered. “Once we’re done with the
Dante
and
Kepler
, have
particle beam weapons installed on all our ships that currently don’t have
them.”

“I was
expecting that,” Hayworth said. “Should we arm the station as well?”

“Yes,” Kurt
replied, pleased that Hayworth had guessed his next question. “Weapons plus an
energy shield.”

“That’s a lot
of work,” Simms said, his eyes narrowing. “Fortunately, with the people that
Colonel Hayworth brought, we should be able to do it.” Simms took out a
calculator and ran some numbers. “Four to six months to complete everything.
Does that sound about right to you?” asked the captain, looking over at
Hayworth.

“Sounds
doable,” Hayworth responded. “Our people will be putting in a lot of hours.”

“Recruit and
train more if needed,” ordered Kurt. “Also, when the ships are being updated,
don’t hesitate to use their crews to help with the work. We’re at war, and the
security of Newton is paramount.”

Hayworth
grinned. “Would love to order about the crews. We’ll get it done, sir.”

Kurt spent another
hour speaking in greater detail to the two men about the things he wanted. When
the meeting was over, he felt satisfied that a number of important issues had
been resolved. Now he wanted to go to Newton and speak with Governor Spalding,
plus visit his sister, Denise.

-

Denise was
busy cooking when her cell phone rang.

“I’ll get it!”
yelled Bryan, as he ran through the house toward her phone, lying on the
kitchen counter.

The six-year-old
had been hyperactive ever since they arrived on Newton. Denise put down her
knife and the potato she had been peeling.

Pressing the
green flashing light on the cell phone, Bryan said, “Hello?” He listened for a
moment, and then his eyes lit up. “Uncle Kurt, is it really you? When are you
coming to visit? Our new house is really neat, and it’s close to my new
school.”

“Let me have
the phone, dear,” said Denise, pleased that Kurt had finally called. She knew
he had been tremendously busy the last few days.

Bryan handed her the phone with a big excited smile. “He says he’s coming over!”

“Hello, big
brother,” Denise said. “Bryan says you’re coming over?” She listened for a
moment, nodding to herself. “The house is fine. It’s nearly as big as the one
we left in Houston. Alex is out checking on a potential job. One of the local
companies has a need for a systems analyst.”

“Let me talk
some more!” begged Bryan with his eyes open wide. “I want to tell Uncle Kurt
about our spaceship ride.”

“Why don’t you
come over for supper? I’ll have it ready around seven.” She listened to Kurt’s
reply, and a soft smile covered her face. “I’ll see you then, and Bryan can’t wait to tell you about our trip on the passenger liner.”

Denise pressed
the end button on her cell phone and looked down at her son. “Uncle Kurt’s
coming for supper, and you can tell him then all about your ride on the
spaceship.”

“I can’t
wait,” Bryan said, his face lighting up with excitement. “I’ll color him a picture
of the spaceship.” With that comment, Bryan turned and rushed off toward his
room.

Denise picked up
the knife and the potato again. She would have to cook a little more for supper
than usual. It would do her brother good to have a home-cooked meal for a
change.

-

“What was the
final total of refugees we managed to evacuate?” asked Kurt, looking across the
desk at Governor Spalding. He had stopped by the governor’s office to cover
some of the events that had occurred at Earth and to discuss the potential
problem having Marlen Stroud on Newton might mean.

“One hundred
and twelve thousand,” Spalding replied, as he checked some information on the
computer screen on his desk. “Most of them families, with at least one member being
someone who can greatly benefit Newton. We have teachers, engineers, doctors,
nurses, scientists, and even some farming specialists.”

“We tried to
be very careful in our screening of potential colonists,” Kurt answered. He
just wished they had caught Stroud before he managed to board the Chinese ship.
That Cabinet member would be an ongoing migraine for Kurt and Spalding.

“We arrested
the Chinese crewmembers who brought Stroud and his entourage to Newton,” Spalding said with a heavy sigh. “He brought along several household servants and
six other influential people, who have been involved in his past political and
business dealings.”

This was the first
Kurt had heard how many others were involved. “What did you do with them?”

“Same as Stroud.
They’re under house arrest for the time being, until we can figure out what
use, if any, they can be.”

Kurt leaned
back in his chair and shook his head. “Stroud is bound to stir up trouble. We can’t
keep him isolated forever.”

“This might
help,” said Spalding, taking a thick envelope and a small metal box from the
right-hand top drawer of his desk. “President Mayfield sent this on one of the
first passenger liners carrying evacuees.”

“What is it?” asked
Kurt, curious. He hadn’t been aware that the president had any special orders
for Governor Spalding.

“One moment,”
Spalding said. “I need a few witnesses for this.” The governor reached forward
on his desk and pressed a button. “Send them in.”

The door
opened, and General Mclusky—in command of ground forces on Newton—plus Colonel
Hayworth, and several representatives of the civilian government came in with Spalding’s
secretary.

“What’s going
on?” Kurt asked in confusion. He was surprised at Hayworth’s presence, as Kurt
had only left him a few hours previously.

“Admiral Kurt
Vickers, will you please stand,” said Governor Spalding in a formal voice.

Kurt did so,
not understanding why.

Spalding
opened the envelope and took out a letter with the presidential seal of office.
“By orders of President Mayfield of the North American Union, you are hereby
promoted to the rank of fleet admiral.”

“But Admiral
Tomalson is fleet admiral,” protested Kurt, bewildered.

“Not any longer,”
answered Governor Spalding. “He has no fleet to command and is retired from
combat. He has resigned his active commission but will continue to advise
President Mayfield, as long as his services are needed.” Spalding opened up the
small metal box and removed two shiny five-pointed gold stars. Stepping around
the desk, he pinned them to the new fleet admiral’s shoulders. “Congratulations,
Fleet Admiral Vickers,” he said with a broad smile. “I believe the rank of fleet
admiral is on a par with a Cabinet member, during peace or war. That should
help us to deal with Stroud, if he becomes a bigger problem.”

The other men
and women in the room stepped forward, shaking Kurt’s hand and offering their congratulations.
Spalding then had each of them sign the Presidential Declaration and had his
secretary, who stood by to notarize it.

“We’ll put
this in a safe, in case it’s ever needed,” Spalding said in satisfaction. He
dismissed the others and then gestured for Kurt to sit down. “I believe we have
some other issues to cover. I understand from President Mayfield that you will
shortly be going on a rescue mission to this Gothan Empire.”

“Not until I’m
satisfied Newton is adequately protected,” Kurt replied as he sat back down.
“That’s one reason I want the
Kepler
and
Dante
finished and
repaired. With those two ships and the rest of the fleet, Newton should be safe
from attack.”

“How will you
find your way around this Gothan Empire or even find the abductees you’re
searching for?”

“I have a
Profiteer on board the
Star Cross
,” Kurt replied. “His name is Grantz,
and he has agreed to be our guide.”

“A Profiteer!”
exploded Spalding, his eyes bulging. “How can you afford to trust him after
what they did to Earth?”

“It’s quite
simple,” answered Kurt with a conniving smile. “We bought his loyalty. He has signed
a contract to act as a faithful member of my crew. The contract will be registered
with a Controller, once we reach Kubitz. Due to their culture, Grantz wouldn’t
dare violate the contract, because of the severe repercussions he would
receive. It would effectively ruin his life to betray us in any way.”

Governor
Spalding shook his head worriedly. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I,”
replied Kurt with a deep sigh.

-

Denise had
just finished setting the table when she heard a knock at the front door.

“I’ll get it!”
yelled Bryan, as he shot toward the door like a bullet. Opening the door, he
let out a happy whoop. “It’s Uncle Kurt!”

Denise set down
the last plate and headed toward the door, as a smiling Alex met her in the
hallway.

“Your
brother’s here.”

Reaching the door,
they found Bryan dragging Kurt into the house with a determined look on his
face. “I drew a spaceship, and I want to show it to you. It’s just like the one
that brought us here.”

“You can show
him the spaceship in a moment,” Alex said, reaching out and shaking Kurt’s now
free hand. “It’s good to see you, Kurt.”

Denise stepped
forward and gave Kurt a big sisterly hug. “I missed you, big brother.”

“I’m glad to
see you’re all safe and settled in,” Kurt said, as they walked down the hallway
to the living room.

“I heard about
Captain Randson’s family,” Denise said with a distressed look in her eyes.
“It’s just horrible.”

“There were
several thousand people taken off Earth,” Kurt replied.

“You’re going
to go get them, aren’t you?” asked Denise. “I know you won’t allow humans to be
held captives by these alien Profiteers.”

“We’re going
to try,” Kurt admitted. “But not for a while. We have some other things to take
care of first.”

“I hope you
get them all back,” commented Denise.

“How’s the job
hunt?” Kurt asked Alex, wanting to change the conversation.

“Good,” Alex
responded. “I had an interview at a computer service company today, and I think
they’ll offer me the job.”

“That’s great,
honey!” Denise was pleased to hear this. “Once Bryan is settled in school, I’ll
also look for employment.” Denise had an accounting degree and had been working
at a law firm on Earth.

“Can I take
Uncle Kurt to see my spaceship now?” asked Bryan, growing impatient.

“Yes,” Denise
said with a smile. “He’s very happy to see you,
Uncle Kurt
.” She added in
a whisper, “And he’s adjusting well to the move. Better than me and Alex.” She
patted Bryan on the shoulder. “Go show Uncle Kurt your spaceship, and then
it’ll be time to eat.”

“We’re having
fried chicken,” Bryan announced. “Mom says it’s your favorite.”

Kurt laughed.
“Let’s go see this spaceship.”

As Denise
watched Bryan lead Kurt toward his room, she turned toward Alex. “I’m glad Kurt
came over. It’s good to see him.”

“Yes, it is,” replied
Alex, taking Denise’s hand. “He’s a good man, and Bryan thinks the world of
him.”

Denise stood
up. “Come help me put the food on the table? I don’t know how long Kurt can
stay, and I want to make the most of it.” As Denise and Alex headed into the kitchen,
she couldn’t help but smile to herself. Facing Alex, she said, “You know, for
the first time since the aliens attacked Earth, I feel completely safe. We have
nothing to fear here.”

“I hope so,”
Alex said. “You sure fixed a lot of chicken,” he commented, as he set the large
platter in the center of the table.

“You’ve never
seen my brother eat fried chicken,” Denise said with a grin. “He can really put
it away. And, … for the rest of the evening, let’s not talk about events on
Earth or the Profiteers. This night will be about family. I know in my heart
that Kurt will enjoy that. Okay with you, honey?”

“Sure,”
responded Alex, knowing how important this was to his wife. “I think we can
manage that.”

High Profiteer
Creed gazed in satisfaction at the gold, platinum, and other rare metals piled
high in the large hold of the cargo ship
Diadem
, still in Earth’s orbit.
At a quick guess, he estimated easily eight hundred million credits were in the
hold. This was just the tip of what he expected to take from Earth.

“A good
beginning,” commented Clan Leader Jarls. He stepped over to a large crate, brimming
full of different colored precious stones. He picked up several diamonds and
rubies, and gazed critically at them, probably estimating their value. “These
will bring a good price at the gem markets on Kubitz.”

“The first two
shiploads of humans leave tomorrow,” Creed said, wishing Jarls would keep his
hands out of the gems crate. Creed wouldn’t put it past the Dacroni to slip one
or two into his pockets.

“I have seen
the women of this world,” Jarls said, turning around to face Creed, still
holding several dark red rubies in his hand. He held them up to the light,
gazing at their radiant color. “They will do well in the slave markets on
Kubitz. There will be a high demand for them in the pleasure houses. I suspect
many humanoid races will be highly interested in procuring them.”

“They have
other uses besides the pleasure houses,” pointed out Creed, watching the clan
leader closely. “Household servants, taking care of children, and basic labor
to name a few. Races other than humanoids will be highly interested in
acquiring them for a number of uses both domestic and in their general labor
force.”

“Nevertheless,
when I return to Kubitz, I may go to one of their pleasure houses to sample
these human women myself,” responded Jarls, as he turned and dropped the rubies
back into the crate. “As for labor uses, this is not a heavy-gravity world. They
will be useless in the mines and other heavy industries.”

“One of your
battleships will escort the two detainee ships and this cargo ship back to
Kubitz,” Creed continued. He knew the humans would bring a good price; they
weren’t the first group he had delivered to the slave markets. “I will be
sending one of my battlecruisers and two light escorts along as well.”

“Very well,”
Jarls replied. “After all, you’re paying for my services.” With that comment,
Jarls exited the cargo hold.

“We should
keep an eye on him,” suggested Second Profiteer Lantz, who had been standing
back, watching the other two. “He will do everything he can to increase his
take from this venture. It wouldn’t surprise me if one or two diamonds are
missing from that crate.”

“He will abide
by our contract,” growled Creed, agreeing in part with Lantz’s statement. He
walked over and looked down at the crate of precious stones. There was no way
to tell if one or two were missing. “We just need to ensure that none of his mercenaries
go to the surface. As long as we control all access to the planet’s riches, we
have nothing to fear.”

“What about
the human fleet that left this system?” Lantz asked. “What of it?”

“They have a
small colony world a number of light-years from here,” High Profiteer Creed
replied. “From what we have been able to learn, it’s not a very rich world, not
worth the credits it would take to conquer it. As long as their ships stay away
from Earth, we’ll not interfere.”

“And Clan
Leader Jarls will see to that,” said Lantz, nodding his head as his large eyes
looked across the cargo hold. “That is why we signed a contract with the
Dacroni.”

Creed smiled a
greedy grin. “He will, and, while he makes sure the Earth ships stay away, we’ll
continue to strip the planet of all its wealth. Our latest estimates indicate
the potential for ten to twelve billion in credits, just from the gold and
other precious metals.”

“And the
humans themselves,” Lantz added. “Once they are sold on Kubitz, I plan to, at
the least, visit several of the more esteemed pleasure houses too. Maybe I’ll
see Jarls.”

“Next week the
humans will make their next payment of eighty gold bars,” Creed announced. He
walked over to the two pallets that contained the tribute the humans had
already paid. He picked up one, testing its weight. He turned it over in his
hand, gazing at the alluring yellow color of the gold. “We could buy a new
Profiteer fleet with each one of these pallets.”

“We could
become the largest and most powerful Profiteer fleet in the empire,” said Lantz,
as he thought about the ramifications. “With several fleets out raiding, we
could become the richest Profiteers on Marsten.”

“
Marsten
!”
gloated Creed, his large eyes glinting. “We’ll become the richest and most
feared Profiteers in the empire!”

-

Down on the
surface in the secret underground command bunker deep beneath the Canadian
Rockies—the Rocky Mountains in southern Canada—President Mayfield looked at
Fleet Admiral Tomalson. “I wish we knew what was happening on Newton.”

“None of the
Profiteer ships or the ships of their mercenaries have left the system,” Tomalson
responded. “We still have some surveillance data coming in via our stealthed
military satellites.” Even though Tomalson had retired from active duty he was
serving as the president’s advisor and would retain the rank of fleet admiral
while on the Cabinet or until Fleet Admiral Vickers returned.

“No one’s died
anywhere on the planet yet due to this latest appearance of the Profiteers,”
General Braid added. “We’re keeping a close but clandestine watch on all their
activities. They’ve been active across the planet, landing their shuttles in
nearly every country. So far no incidents.”

“They’ve been
content to strip the gold and jewelry from the shelves of our smaller cities,”
Raul Gutierrez reported. “We’ve sent word for our people to stay indoors
anytime a Profiteer shuttle lands. They’re to offer no resistance.”

“What happens
when these Profiteers realize how much gold and jewelry is owned by our
civilians?” asked Mayfield with a deep and worried frown on his face. “What
happens when they go door to door, taking our citizens’ personal wealth? A hell
of a lot of guns are out there. Someone will shoot one of the Profiteers, and
then all hell will break lose.”

Everyone in
the room was quiet at that thought. There had been numerous attempts to pass
laws to restrict gun ownership, but all had failed. The average North American
Union household had at least one firearm, with the majority being shotguns or hunting
rifles. Also a disturbing amount of large caliber semiautomatic assault rifles were
in the hands of a lot of people who knew how to use them.

“We could offer
more gold,” suggested Raul, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Perhaps we
can buy off the Profiteers, if there is, indeed, a shooting.”

“It’ll
happen,” General Braid predicted in a grim voice. “The question is, how will
the Profiteers react?”

“They could
bomb a city as an example,” Tomalson said somberly. “I don’t think they’re that
concerned about human life. We learned that when they first arrived and nuked
our cities.”

Mayfield
looked around the room. Most of the chairs that normally held Cabinet members
were empty. The vice president and the rest of the Cabinet had been dispersed
to several other secure underground bunkers to ensure the government would
continue to function in the event the presidential bunker was bombed.

“We’ll
continue to tell our citizens to cooperate,” Mayfield said, letting out a deep
breath. He leaned back in his chair and looked at General Braid. “Have our
Special Forces keep a close eye on any of the Profiteers down here. Our men are
to take no action, just observe.”

“I’ll make the
arrangements,” Braid replied. “It’ll be difficult, as the Profiteers are
landing their shuttles everywhere. We may not have people in position to get
there quickly enough. We may need to use some reserve units in some of the
smaller cities.”

“Do the best
you can,” Mayfield ordered. He knew they couldn’t move any military aircraft,
as the Profiteers would probably shoot them down. The aliens had already
restricted air travel to only a few flights per day. “This situation will get a
lot worse before it gets any better. Speaking of a situation getting worse, has
anyone seen or heard from the secretary of labor?”

“It’s not good
news,” answered Raul, opening a folder and pulling out a sheet of paper. “It
looks as if he bribed his way on board a Chinese cargo ship bound for Newton.”

“Crap,”
muttered Fleet Admiral Tomalson, his eyes widening in concern. “That could
cause some problems.”

“If Governor
Spalding and Fleet Admiral Vickers acted quickly enough,” Mayfield responded.
“Marlen Stroud’s welcome to Newton will not have been what he desired.”

“I hope they
can contain him,” Tomalson said in an aggravated voice. “I just can’t believe
he managed to get off the planet.”

“Money,”
General Braid responded. “I suspect he paid a huge amount to get to Newton.”

“Mr.
President,” Raul continued, as he shuffled through several papers. “I hate to
bring this up, but I’m getting reports that the Profiteers have been rounding
up people and taking them into orbit in their shuttles.”

“There are
several large ships up there,” Tomalson pointed out. “They may be transport
ships to house their captives.”

“To sell on
Kubitz,” added General Braid with a forlorn look. “They’re selling our people
into slavery!”

“Fleet Admiral
Vickers has his orders in that regard too,” said Mayfield, trying to keep his own
anger in check.

He hated the
thought of more humans being taken by the Profiteers. It would make Vickers’s
job even harder. However, Mayfield could do nothing, other than use the military.
If he did that, he would risk devastating reprisals from the Profiteers. The
area around Washington, DC, and Chicago still bore witness to the dangers of
angering the orbiting aliens.

-

Captain Nathan
Aldrich gazed intently at the school across the street. A Profiteer shuttle sat
in the large parking lot with a number of the aliens standing guard outside. In
the last several hours, he had watched as a large number of humans had been
taken inside the school’s gymnasium.

“They’re
taking them up to their ships,” Corporal Lasher said in anger. “We can’t let
them do this!”

“What if
they’re eating them?” Private Malone said in a shaky voice.

“They’re not
eating them,” snapped Aldrich, glaring at Malone. There had been rumors of
every kind in recent days.

“I don’t
know,” Malone continued dubiously. “I saw several movies in the past where
aliens came down to Earth and took people away to be eaten.”

“Maybe we’ll
send you to them,” Corporal Lasher responded. “That will give them a
bellyache.”

“That’s
enough,” Aldrich said, shaking his head. These aliens had everyone on edge. “I
don’t see what we can do about the civilians.”

He had six
other Marines with him, and they had been following the Profiteers as they
moved through the small town. The aliens had stripped all the valuables from
the town’s two jewelry stores and then proceeded to round up twenty humans.

“We can take
them out,” suggested Lasher. “They’re not expecting an attack. We can take them
out and free the captives.”

“Then what?”
asked Aldrich evenly. “The Profiteers might nuke the town. That would result in
the deaths of thousands. Is that what you want?”

Lasher shook
his head and let out a deep breath. “No.”

Aldrich heard
what sounded like frightened voices, and, looking back around the wall he and
his men stood behind, he saw the captives being led from the gymnasium to the
waiting shuttle. He wanted more than anything to order his squad to attack, to
free the men and women. Several of the women were crying and sobbing
hysterically. A few of the men looked like they wanted to fight back, but the
heavily armed Profiteers were having none of that. Aldrich saw that most of the
twenty were young, probably in their early to mid-twenties. Most of the women
were quite good looking. Aldrich could feel his heart pounding, and he was
taking deeper breaths. His grip tightened on his assault rifle.

“What’s
happening?” asked Corporal Lasher intently.

“They’re
moving the prisoners,” Aldrich answered. He ducked back behind the wall, when
one of the Profiteers looked in his direction. “Let’s move and report in.
Headquarters needs to know the aliens are rounding up humans.”

As they pulled
back and went down several deserted side streets to where they had left their
vehicle, Aldrich felt as if he had failed in his mission. The duty of the
military was to protect civilians, not observe them being herded into shuttles as
if they were animals. Someday the word would be passed down for them to fight back;
he hoped that day would come soon.

-

Aboard the
Ascendant
Destruction
, First Profiteer Creed watched in deep satisfaction as the last
shuttle full of humans docked to one of the detainee ships to unload its cargo.
He had given strict orders that only young and healthy humans were to be sent
to the slave markets on Kubitz. He wanted prime merchandise to be presented, so
the prices could be driven up. He fully expected to receive anywhere from ten
to fifteen thousand credits from each sale. That would make this load worth
over twenty million credits! Enough money to buy several first-line battleships,
if he wanted. If he did that, and hired the necessary crews, he would never
have to hire mercenaries again.

The first
bunch of captives had been taken to Kubitz for training and should be nearly
ready for the slave auctions. He wished he could be at Kubitz for the sales,
but that was impossible, so he had hired a dependable handler to take care of
selling the humans. It would cost him a commission on each sale, but the
profits would easily cover it.