Prologue
Death and debris, that is all that remained of transport ship Yterrium. A kilometer long ship turned into shrapnel, ten crew lost. The Treslian armada swept through like a bad storm. The only signature of the event was the blast wave that moved into space like a splash in a pond. Chunks of the ship pushed into orbits, fragmentary grenade for passing ships.
On April 3rd, 2146, the Cruiser Hood departed from Mars colony to strike the Treslians forces. They were destroyed two solar days later. Earth colonies were in turmoil and indecision. They questioned the protection of being a colony. It was a time of remorse and recalibration. The multi-Trillion credits spent on the Galactic Laboratories was also questioned, argued, and debated since their mission was protection and prevention of hostile takeovers.
The Treslians demanded immediate surrender and all worlds to submit to them or suffer the same fate. Many supported the passive approach including the Earth mega-states. A response was needed before more died. The Earth Task Force, Halifax Class Republic Ship Calgary remained in orbit to face a threat with limited crew. The government response was urgent requests for a weapon that could even the odds. With more than a million souls distributed among the moons of Saturn, panic was the order of the day.
U.S.S Canterbury
“U.S.S Frigate Canterbury to Unidentified Transport, you are in government controlled, Terran space, please identify,“ Captain Thomas said.
The heavy transport executed a slow turn to port, lined up with the wormhole and paused, bobbing in a sudden current of solar tide like a buoy on the waves.
“Damn, that ship is beat up,” The Operator said.
Spinning around, the weapon’s officer removed his headset and tossed it on the console.
“She’s operating with only one reactor out of three. She’s a derelict.”
Thomas glared at him, turned back to the console. The comm center activated, the Moltog’s Operator’s image filled the screen.
“This is the Martian vessel Moltog, en route to K-5 with supplies and passengers,” the operator said in a monotone voice.
The Controlled tapped his hand terminal, swept aside the duties list and scanned the ship list.
“Authorized?” Captain Thomas said.
“Yes sir,” he said.
Thomas leaned over the communications technician and glanced at the display of the ship. He pressed the communications channel again.
“Roger that, you’re on my schedule,” Thomas said.
“What do you flyboys do for entertainment out here? It’s boring as hell,” The Moltog Captain said.
“Oh, we have our ways, you’re cleared to continue. Hold at the A24 wormhole, then proceed. Do you copy?”
At that moment, the long range panel on the Canterbury sensors turned red and alarmed.
“Captain, we have a Treslian ship that just appeared on our scopes, 14,000 clicks out.”
Spinning around, Thomas locked eyes with the operator, “how the hell did that happen?”
“It’s the Valok, look at her weapons, she’s a damn predator.”
“Thought they said this was a cold war,” the weapons officer said. His panel illuminated. He whipped his head around.
“They’re firing torpedoes,” he screamed.
“Evasive 1-delta now, 7 G turn, push it,” Thomas yelled.
The Cantebury’s engines thundered at 110%, she swung in a wide turn, engines illuminated the small moon they parked by. The crew were pinned to their seats. She reached sublight speed in a few seconds, crossed to the dark side of the moon and scanned the approaching torpedos.
“It’s going to be close,” Thomas said, gripping the bulkhead.
The torpedos flashed by them trailing a blue flame and continued in a sweeping turn. Thomas staggered for an instant, eyes wide, his heart pounding in his chest.
“What tha-?” He said.
“Captain, the weapons lock wasn’t on us, it’s on the Moltog,” he said.
Thomas dived to the comm panel, pressed the button and spoke with a command voice.
“Moltog, evasive maneuvers now,” he warned.
Moltog started to creep forward.
“They’ll never make it,” the operator said.
Thomas’s face was tense, his eyes open as the torpedoes made a gradual arc and struck the Moltog midships, a blinding flash of blue light flooded them and the ship was reduced to a huge debris field. The Volak casually entered A24 and disappeared.
“She’s gone sir,” the weapon’s officer said.
Thomas collected himself, scanned the bridge, took a deep breath and surveyed at the expanding debris that was once the Moltog.
“Gentlemen, we aren’t done, give me some distance.”
“Shock wave will impact in twelve seconds,” the Operator said.
“Roger that.”
Turning to the weapons officer, Thomas spoke, “what were those weapons?”
“I don’t know, haven’t seen them before.”
“Great, new technology, check the weapon signature,” he said pointing.
Thomas leaned over his shoulder and studied the data.
“Nearly off the scale, 100 GigaTon, forced implosion, IR signature guided.”
’Treslians couldn’t have developed them,” Thomas commented.
“So, where did they get them?” The Operator said.
Thomas rubbed his chin, studied the screen.
“Helm give me more distance, three quarter speed, Shields up, aft,” Thomas said.
The shock wave arrived two seconds later peppering the ship with pieces of debris that skipped off the hull of the cruiser. The ship shook as it rode the wave.
“Captain, we have some penetrations on the secondary deck from debris, nothing serious.”
“Send repair crews,” Thomas said calmly.
The debris passed them, Thomas released his grip and glanced at the crew.
“We need to know what those weapons were,” Thomas commanded.
“Guess it’s not a cold war any longer,” the Operator said.
“No, it’s not,” Thomas said.
Titan Offices, Defense Agency.
“Captain Malaka, Terran Defense Agency here, what can I do for you?”
“Captain, I have bad news,” Thomas said.
Thomas settled in his cabin, leaned back in his chair and waited for her response over the noise of the ship behind him. He held his breath slightly. Her image fluttered on the screen. She wore her Galactic Navy dress uniform, ribbons filled her left side and glittered in the holograph. Thomas felt his heart racing as he waited for her to respond.
“What happened? Are you still on station?”
She leaned on the desk and glared at him.
“Yes ma’am, we are still patrolling at Ceres Mine.”
wheeling around her cluttered desk, she picked up a glossy red hand terminal, flipped through a message list and spoke to him without looking up, “So, what’s the problem?”
“Captain, Treslians attacked a transport using a new weapon.”
“Thomas, this war is a stand-off. They don’t have new weapons.”
Pausing, he took a long breath, stared at the 3-D display and coughed, “they do now.”
“Excuse me?”
“Captain, they attacked with a 10 GT weapon.”
Malaka stood and stared into the holo emitter, her facial muscles tensed, brown eyes didn’t blink.
“Damn, ok, send me the data, what’s the status of the transport?”
She stared at her desk. Thomas’ muscles tensed, “it was destroyed.”
Malaka raised her eyes to meet his like a large bore cannon.
“What did you say?”
Clearing his throat, he stood erect and gripped the ship’s console, “The destroyed ship was a Martian Transport.”
“I know what it was,” she yelled.
Thomas pushed a green hand terminal out of the way, and then glanced up.
Malaka rubbed her eyes with one hand, sighed and turned away from him. She glanced at the red hand terminal, tossed it on the desk and turned around.
“Thomas, you will gather all the data you can. This is a priority. We need to know what this is. Am I clear?”
“Yes Ma’am,” Thomas said.
“I will make notifications.”
Albuquerque Complex Spaceport, August 2146, Earth.
The holo-message flashed red for immediate action, to report to K-5 immediately by other means.
“What are other means?” Martha, mused.
“Hell, I don’t know,” David answered as he checked his hand terminal again.
Martha grunted, “Slow damn transport,”
“Yah, right.”
“Heard they hired the local waste disposal company.”
David peered at her, rearranged his lab coats again and noted the rough cotton fabric on his hands. He pulled the green colored hand terminal from his pocket and checked it for the travel information.
“How many of those do you need?” Martha said.
“As many as I have,” David said.
He checked his watch, thirty minutes to go. he studied his travel bag again with a wrinkle in his forehead.
“It’s neat enough,” she said.
David turned to face her, “I need to make sure I have everything I need.”
“Yeah, everything.”
“Do you have those shirts?” He asked.
Martha walked back to the laundry and pulled the company shirts, dropped them on the bed and went back to the corner. The main communication channel released a tone, she rolled her eyes and pressed the display. All Spaceports were closed except for official travel.
“You know, you’ll make a great target, right?” Martha said.
Got that travel message?” David said.
“The one you don’t need?” She said, her tone sharper than usual.
Martha’s jaw was tight, her face drawn up. She straightened her shirt and brushed lint from one corner. Turning, she retrieved the red hand terminal document, handed it to him, picked up her access pad and read the news again. She shook her head in a slow fashion like laundry hanging in the wind. She retrieved a jacket, pulled it around her and crossed her arms, locked her gaze on him as he read.
“Gotta see when we leave,” he grinned at her.
“should’ve known before,” she scolded him.
The retinal rehab allowed him to read without glasses but out of instinct, he grabbed them, then sat them down. Martha’s shoulders dropped and she shook her head as she watched him. Opening drawers, she grabbed the laundry and began folding it, and putting it away. She had the room perfectly arranged from the rustic wood cabinets to the southwest paintings on the wall. This disturbed her peace. David noticed her annoyed, then blank expression. He picked up family pictures from the bed stand and sat them on top of the clothes, held his wife’s picture and smiled.
“You know, your hair is getting darker with winter coming,” David said.
“Hair?” She said, “You’re worried about my hair?”
She glanced in the mirror, David noticed the slight gray appearing on her temples and grinned.
”I like the color,” he replied.
“I need a drink.”
“Except you don’t drink,” David said.
“Might start.”
The cool wind blew the white, sheer curtains against the small sunset orange lamp in the room. Martha stared out the window at the Sycamore leaves that played along their manicured walkways. The house matched a minimalist approach. For a moment, the center stage stone pond played a soft melody from the dripping waters.
“You might consider a wine instead,” he mused.
Martha didn’t smile or say a word. The silence was broken by their son’s scream as he chased their dog in the backyard. She watched her son and daughter for a moment playing in the leaves. At four, any game involving chase was fun and their dog provided hours of it, their daughter was the same way. He might have worried about neighbors but the two houses beside them were vacant. David laid out his white laboratory tunic, measured the distance for name tag placement with his scarred hand. He stopped and rubbed the scar for a moment. Martha sighed and walked back into the hallway, crossed her arms, and glared at him. A military transport passed overhead blanking out all sound for a moment. She surveyed it.
“Dad could take you,” she said.
“Oh, that looks good, Oriellian shows up with Cop.“
She grunted and watched him pack.
Never cared about clothes before,” she said.
“New standards.”
“Really? So, this is new? I mean you caring,” Martha said.
David frowned. Martha slipped out into the hallway, combed her daughter’s feathery blond hair back past her grayish ears and, whispered directions to her, she nodded and smiled. David pulled the test results from his pocket and hid them under a shirt, gave her a weak smile and thought about his old job. This one would be better. Maybe I don’t hide who I am. At least, he told himself that would be true. But he knew he’d better not screw it up. He had months to adjust.
“Your kids are going to miss you, especially this little one,” Martha said.
David lowered his voice. “I care because the place is different.”
He finished folding a shirt and sat it down in the case. She toyed with the wedding ring on her finger, twirling it around and watching the morning light reflect off the diamond.
“Bet It won’t be quiet,” she teased.
“No, probably not, but that’s ok.”
David was sure that Martha got that from her dad who always had to get a dig on on him about something. He knew he wasn’t her first choice, he’d called earlier to ‘check in’ and offer to help.
“We can go on here for a while longer, they’ll move us soon, I know it, or we’ll ask your uncle for a job.” Martha said.
“Uncle Hugh’s an ass, rather have this job, besides, if you get lonely, Kirk is down the road. He already said he’s do minor chores for you.” he said.
She nodded and smiled.
“Never told me what Hugh does.”
“No idea, worked for my father at one time.” David answered quickly.
“Yeah, haven’t heard from him either,” she smiled.
Martha sighed and glanced into the children’s room. David watched her and knew it would be her responsibility to care for them. He glanced at her.
“You’re a single parent now,” he said “for a while, but you have family around.”
Martha smiled.
“There’s Kirk down the street,” she mumbled.
She took off her wedding ring and placed it on the counter, and turned back to David with a frown. David caught the look and remembered how she eyed the young police officer. Changing the subject, he tried to put it out of his thoughts.
“Calgary’s up there,” he filled the silent moment, “supposed to protect us.”
“One ship, yeah, not gonna help,” she muttered.
David shook his head, “yeah, very human.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” he said, “look, this has been a bloodless war so far, no need to jump to conclusions.”
He went back to his suitcase and rubbed its rough canvas sides. It had seen trillions of kilometers in travel and so had he. The news played on the nearby monitor, Martha increased the volume. The newscaster read the report with his face tight and his jaw jutted out:
“This is no longer a cold war, The Maltog was attacked and destroyed. All lives were lost.”
Martha turned back to David with a smug look.
“I warned you,” she remarked tossing a small towel back into the adjacent bathroom.
David shook his head, “Don’t worry, we’ve time.”
“How do you know?” she said.
He stayed silent. Martha watched the monitor again, saw the gray again and smirked. She turned back.
“That’s why you took the job, isn’t it?” She pressed.
“We were called in early, besides it’s more money,” he said.
“That’s not it,” she straightened the southwest quilt spread and smiled at him.
K-5 Laboratory, Secluded moon.
Jack Reynolds sat with his back to the desk, flipping through the transport supply list.
“Damn, we’re out of everything,” he said.
An inspection was scheduled later that day, Jack decided he would inspect it himself. All part of the job, he thought. The comm center buzzed. He reached back and tapped the connection. Senator Ben Matthew’s image filled the screen.
“Jack, I have some disappointing news,” Ben Matthews said.
