Thursday, May 31, 2012

War Angel: part sixty-three


2142- In Orbit Around Pluto

Jack leaned forward against the table, using his arms to brace himself. A small trickle of sweat dripped down his cheek as he studied the faces of the War Angel crew. If pressed to guess at their feelings at that moment, he would have picked “befuddlement.”

“So,” he said, then cleared his throat. “That’s my plan. Thoughts?”

Richard’s mouth opened, but no sound escaped his lips, while Kate leaned back and closed her eyes tightly. Jack swiveled his head to meet Sarah’s gaze, but she quickly looked away. “That’s not a good sign,” Jack thought. He turned to look at Gina, but she was staring at the floor. Wilma did the same. Finally, he gazed at Ben, and Jack felt a strange sense of relief that at least one person was willing to stare back at him. Jack braced himself, certain that Drake was going to offer a straightforward response to the ideas he had just put in front of his crew.

“Jack, this is crazy. Not just garden variety crazy, but seriously crazy, like the kind of crazy that they used to commit to asylums in Earth’s past history. It’s crazy and we’re all going to die trying. It’s that kind of crazy.”

The captain of the War Angel stiffened. “Characteristically blunt, Sounder. But considering that it might just save your father’s life-“

“More likely that we’ll be blown out an airlock with him.”

“I’d think you’d be a little more supportive. Of course, if you have a better idea, now’s the time. We’re on the clock here, in case you forgot. We have a date at Mars in nine hours. So: I’m listening.”

The heads of the crew slowly turned to stare at Ben Drake. The young communications officer noticed that he was suddenly in the spotlight and began shrinking into himself. As it became obvious that he had nothing to offer Jack, the group began turning from him one by one. Finally, Kate leaned forward and stood from her chair. “I think we can do it, Jack.”

“You cannot be serious!” Gina blurted.

Kate ignored her and continued. “We’ll be cutting it close at every stage, but if we execute every piece of it right we can do it.”

“That’s the thing,” Jack said. “We have to execute every step of it perfectly. That means that everybody in this room has to fully commit themselves to it. If some of you can’t, we have no shot. That’s why I’m not doing this as an order; I’m asking you all: are you with me on this? Can you do what I need – what the ship needs – what the Earth needs – you to do?”

Richard took a drink of water and coughed. “I can’t like, Jack. This entire thing terrifies me. I was never meant for this kind of stuff. I don’t know if I can do it.”

Jack walked around the table and knelt down next to Richard. “Clover, honestly, it scares me silly, too.”

“It should!”

“But it’s a chance, man. A chance to regain an advantage against these guys. This works, and we might just win this thing.”

Richard frowned. “You realize I have never done anything like what you’re asking of me, right? And I don’t exactly have time to train.”

Jack stood and slapped his hands on Richard’s shoulders. “I know. But I also know you can. Our success depends on it.”

“No pressure,” Richard muttered.

“Gina?” Jack asked, turning his attention to the ship’s driver. “How about you?”

“Oh, I think it’s crazy, but I have nothing else, so why not? I’m in.”

Jack grinned. “All you have to do is fly in a straight line. Mostly. Sarah?” He looked to his lover and second-in-command, awaiting her response. This he knew would be the toughest moment. Sarah had never been afraid to call Jack out when she felt he was wrong or off-base, and as first officer, it was her job to stop him whenever he was putting the lives of the crew and safety of the ship at risk. It was also her duty to offer him secondary options. They locked eyes, staring at one another for a long moment before she finally inhaled and began to speak.

“I have reservations, of course. The margin for error is nonexistent. Have you considered what happens if this doesn’t work?”

He shrugged. “We all probably die. Likely after we’re tortured horrifically.” Suddenly the tension level around the table went up.

“Not just that, Jack. As far as we know, we’re the only ones out here, Maybe there are pockets of resistance elsewhere, but none of them have what we have,” she said, tapping the table with her knuckles.

“What good does it do to have it and not use it?” he responded.

She nodded. “Understood. I’m just making you aware of the risks. We lose now, this early, and the planet may completely lose in the long run. It isn’t just us on the line here; it’s everything.”

“Then we’d all better do our damned jobs,” he said, gritting his teeth. It took him a second to relax his jaw, and them he softened his voice and stepped back to address the entire group. “Look, in school failure was always a default option. You learn from it and get better. But on this mission, there is no room for it. So I’m asking each of you again: are you in?”

Around the table came nods of assent. Jack smiled. “Excellent. That means we have seven hours left here in which to prepare. Dismissed.”

The crew of the War Angel stood and began filing out of the room, as they did, Jack subtly gestured to Dr. Gray to stick around.

“Captain?”

“Doctor. I have a small mission for you before we get underway.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

He rubbed his temples. “I’d rather they didn’t know about this one, Doctor. Let’s keep it between us for now.”

Jack then laid out in detail what he wanted from Wilma Gray - to her ever-growing horror and dismay - then watched her walk away trying to hold back tears.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

War Angel: part sixty-two


From the Journal of Steven Keys- October 11, 2021

They managed to save my right eye. My vision isn’t exactly great in it; I think I’ll need a… shit, do we even have the capability of making a monocle anymore? I suppose if I could find a good prescription lens, I could break a pair of glasses in half and do it that way. On the bright side, if I hold the paper close, I can write, so I still have this.

I’m not sure I have anything else.

Still flabbergasted that they came for me. I understand it, but I don’t. Rationally, they needed to know if I had broken, what I had told. I’m certain they were moving and shifting things anyway, planning from the moment I was captured. The only smart thing to do. Stupid not to.

The good news, to them, is that I gave up nothing. They believe I didn’t crack, didn’t break under the torture.

A lie.

On the second day, when they took two of the toes from my right foot, my mind… I suppose I can best describe it as a schism. I faded out. Steve was away from the phone, please leave a message. Even now, it comes to me in bits and pieces, but what I do know is this: Nadine was there.

“But Steve” you say, “she’s dead. Not possible.” Trust me when I say that I realize that. But as they started snipping away at my feet, I felt my brain leave my body and I saw Nadine standing there next to me. She looked good, like the Nadine I met all those years ago. In fact, I think she was wearing the same dress she wore on our first date. We went to a Mongolian barbecue joint, a tiny little spot in a dying strip mall in east Mesa. She got tofu, I got steak. Tasted amazing. After that we went to a small local theatre and saw a performance of Much Ado About Nothing. It was one of the greatest- and most important- nights of my life. Anyway, there she was, smiling at me like she hadn’t seen me in years.

We talked. She asked me about Yumiko and told me she was happy for me. I asked her if she missed being alive, and she said no. I could hear the regret in her voice when she said it. Then she said that she only missed me, which was nice, yet also kind of sad. As we were talking, she cut herself off and said she had to go, like it was a real hurry. As she did, I snapped out of it, noticing then that the Omegan doctors were sewing up my foot. Seeing it, I cried.

Overwhelmed with missing Nadine, I cried more.

Logically, I realize that I manifested Nadine as a coping mechanism for the pain and agony coursing through my body. I continued to do so during the duration of my “stay” with our enemy. As far as this sort of thing goes, I’m rather impressed with my brain for working this one out. Appreciative, even. Whenever I snapped out of it, and the agony started setting in, it was all I could do not to whimper and beg. Never did, though. For whatever reason, I held on the idea that I would see her again when they started up, and I realized that I missed her so much that I… looked forward to it.

Obviously, I don’t think I’ll be sharing this with Yumiko. Maybe she would understand, maybe she wouldn’t. It isn’t important for me to find out. What is important is that she fought for the idea of rescuing me, and that she is alive and loves me right here and right now. I’m not going to throw that away for a mirage.

But… there is a part of me that wonders why I didn’t manifest Yumiko. What that means about my feelings for her.

Fuck, I’m a mess. Thinking about this kind of stuff instead of the fact that we’re currently being occupied by a military force of big purple bastards. Or maybe this is a good sign, that I am thinking about something normal in the face of all this insane shit happening to our world.

Fuck, I’m a mess.

Anyway, once I am feeling up to getting around and moving, I have been asked to report to the design group. I’ve spent more time inside Omegan vessels than any other living human, and they want to pick my brain about the things I’ve seen. Apparently there is a movement to design a ship of our own to meet the Omegans in the air, taking them on ship-to-ship. Whatever they come up with, it’ll probably take years to get it going. Better get started now, I suppose.

Nurse just came in and left a sleeping pill for me. Guess the word is getting around that I have been avoiding sleep since I got back. There’s truth in that, I know. I… shit. There’s a part of me that is terrified that I dreamt the rescue. That I have replaced Nadine with this scenario. That I look down at my six remaining toes and eight fingers, using my one good eye, and I fade out into imagination land. What happens if I go to sleep and I am right back there on that ship? Maybe that’s what will push me over that final edge.

No. No sleep until I am sure.

Yet how bad could death really be? Would it be better than this “life” on Earth?

Fuck, I’m a mess. A rambling, barely coherent mess. Can’t survive like this, that’s for sure. Maybe I’ll take the damn pill and just let things play out. Ugh.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

War Angel: part sixty-one


F’ath M’isti leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on his knees. “Fascinating. Simply fascinating.” He turned to look at his second in command. “M’aschi, what do you make of him?”

M’aschi T’reen bowed his head in respect to the Omegan commander. “I think he is a vile, untrustworthy worm. He has the stench of betrayal about him.”

“I agree with that assessment. But look deeper than that. What do you see?” M’isti asked.

The Kan’Tar’s second stopped for a moment, thinking about the conversation he had just watched. In his mind, he replayed the words spoken by the captain of the War Angel, finally putting his finger on what bothered him. “He is not meant to be in command of that vessel, is he not? The records we gained access to spoke of a Morrison leading that crew. Strange.”

“Indeed. Young Keys was in command in battle above Saturn as well. I would doubt highly that Morrison is anything but a corpse. There is a human word: mutiny.”

“Murdering one’s superior. Yes, Commander. You think this boy?”

M’isti smiled and leaned back. “M’aschi, have I ever told you of my days during our first occupation of this wretched planet?” He shook his head. “I was a pilot on a B-class ship. One day I was performing maneuvers when I saw one of the other cruisers acting strangely. It was listing in its orbit; very odd. Then I saw an explosion tear through its hull. Had it not been one of our own, it might have been beautiful. The fire cascaded through the ship, eventually shattering it into pieces. Nearly every soldier onboard found his way to Erestia that day.”

“I have read of that moment. A small human force had made its way inside and sabotaged the ship.”

The Omegan commander laughed. “Indeed. And history would later us that of all the humans who invaded that ship on that day, only one survived: a man named Steven Keys.”

“The boy’s ancestor.”

“Aye. He took with him weaponry and other tools that the Earthmen began to reverse engineer in an effort to build up their ability to resist us. Some of that technology went into building ships like the one orbiting the outer planet right now.” M’isti closed his eyes. “My squadron was diverted almost immediately to destroy the place where Keys and his fellows had come from on the ground. We reduced every square inch of it to rubble. But the true damage was done. Keys himself had not gone back to where he had left, which we did not know at the time, so we missed our first shot at him.”

“But you had a second chance and you killed him?”

M’isti’s eyes popped open. “We did get a second chance. And a third. A fourth. An eighth. This human…” he flexed his fists, “he was a thorn in our sides for a long time before we finally captured him.”

The Omegan second recoiled in shock. “He was not immediately put to death?”

“No. At first because we did not know it was him. Then, for pragmatic purposes- he had information we wanted in order to put an end to the resistance once and for all. Torture. Horrible, brutal torture.” F’ath M’isti smiled at the memory. “I was part of the squadron that brought him in, so I was given the privilege of watching his suffering. It was glorious.”

“How long did it take to break him? An hour? A day?”

Memories flooded the Omegan commander’s mind. He remembered chunks of skin carved off of Steven Keys’ body, toes and fingers being removed… of watching as Keys was struck so hard in the face that an eye popped out of socket. It was impressive that the human managed to take so much punishment without begging for mercy. As a young soldier, it was instructive for him to finally see his enemy up close and understand who he was truly dealing with on the battlefield. “He never broke, M’aschi. During a shift change, a small force penetrated our defenses, boarded the ship where Keys was being held, and rescued him.”

“Madness! They should have let him die!”

“Not at all. It taught me that the humans were far better strategists than I could have ever imagined. By getting him back, they could determine what he had told us and prepare themselves for any attacks we might be planning. If they killed him themselves, they would have the same problem. No, they showed intelligence, loyalty, and compassion all at the same time. That, my friend, is what makes them such a dangerous race.”

M’aschi exhaled. “Now we face another one, and this one seems to have a ruthlessness about him. As you said earlier, commander: fascinating.”

“And he knows just enough about our objectives here to be dangerous to them. Thus we must meet him on the… dinner table… of battle.”

“How long will you wait before you kill him?”

F’ath M’isti laughed. “Ahh, that is the question is it not? He will surely arrive with a plan to kill me. I will take his measure up close, see what information he truly has or is willing to share, and then…”

“He will die.”

The Omegan commander stood and clapped a hand on his second’s shoulder. “See to preparations for their arrival and send two ships to meet them.”

“It will be done.” M’aschi bowed and exited the command bridge. As F’ath watched him go, he sighed gently and shook his head. His second in command was a generation younger than he, and the Omegan commander found himself frustrated by that fact once again.

“This new breed does not know. It forgets,” he muttered. He lifted his uniform shirt and brushed his fingers across a large scar running across his torso. From mid-abdomen to his left shoulder, the raised and damaged skin stood out from the older man’s body. He gave an involuntary shiver, then lowered his clothing back into place. “But I will never forget.”

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

War Angel: part sixty


Richard flicked a switch and the lights on the bridge brightened. “That’s as high as they go, Jack. Are you sure about this?”

Jack shrugged. “No. But any level of image management we can engage in is important. If they think this thing is pristine, it gives us a little more of an intimidation factor. We don’t want to look like we took too much damage in that last fight.”

“I should have most of it fixed within the next twelve hours.”

“You have nine.” Jack swiveled the Captain’s chair around to face the front of the bridge, eyeballing the main viewscreen. “Okay. Let’s start broadcasting. Open it up.” Richard pushed a button and the screen burst to life. A pulsating sine wave began scrolling from left to right, a continuous hum echoing throughout the room. One minute passed, then two. Jack began to feel his palms sweat a little, and he reached down to dry them on his pants legs. Finally, as a third minute ticked away, the screen shifted to an image. There, in all his glory, stood F’ath M’isti.

Jack crossed one leg over the other. “Supreme Commander F’ath M’isti? This is Captain Jack Keys of the War Angel. I bid you greetings.”

M’isti gave a grunt that was half-laugh and half-snarl. “Captain. I assume you have called to offer your surrender?”

“I’m afraid not, Supreme Commander,” Jack replied calmly. “I don’t think that would benefit either of us.”

This time M’isti laughed fully. “Oh, I think it would be of a great benefit to you, boy. There are very few places you can hide from us. Not to mention all of the people we’ll kill if you don’t.” The Omegan smiled, sending a shiver down Richard’s spine. “You don’t really want those deaths on your hands, Captain.”

It was Jack’s turn to laugh. “I shot a man in the back in order to take over this ship, Commander. You really think I care about who you kill?”

“I do, Captain.” M’isti paused. “Or shall I call you Jack? You are a Keys. I know exactly what kind of man you are. The four pillars of life according to the family Keys: Be the very best. Uphold our family honor. Live a life of courage. Do the right thing.” Jack’s body went slack. “It’s that last part that tells me you’ll surrender… Captain.”

Jack stood from his chair, staring at the screen. He absently adjusted his uniform and slowly made his way closer to the viewscreen. “That’s… impressive, M’isti. You seem to know a lot about me and my family.”

The Omegan commander nodded. “Let us just say that… I have a history with your ancestors, boy.”

“Huh. Well, I’m not my ancestors, Commander. And I assure you, I am not going to surrender this ship.”

“A regrettable decision. Particularly for Mr. Drake’s father…”

Jack cut him off. “I am, however, going to offer you a deal, F’ath M’isti. One I think you’ll accept.”

“You have nothing to bargain with, Captain. You are wasting my time by stalling, and,” Jack saw him motion to someone offscreen, “I must now have Prisoner 1212 executed.”

“Do that,” Jack said, his confidence rising, “and you’ll never find the pieces of the gate.”
The Omegan froze. “What did you say, boy?” he snarled with barely contained rage.

“You heard me. You kill Patrick Drake, and I promise you that you will never find the rest of the pieces of Earth’s gate to Erestia.” Jack spun on his heel and walked back to the Captain’s chair, retaking his seat. “I mean, that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Closing the breached gate on this end. But you have to put it all together first in order to do it.” Jack leaned forward. “I can make that happen, F’ath. But not if you start killing family members. We all take that a bit personally.”

Jack watched as the Supreme Commander of the Omegan forces gritted his teeth and flexed his fists. F’ath M’isti then stood and towered over the broadcast camera on his end. “You… are a clever one, boy. Captain. Perhaps a little too clever.”

“Careful, you sound like my mother.”

F’ath M’isti growled in response. “Let us say that I believe you. That I believe you have information that will help… complete our quest to your planet. Why should I not just take it from you?”

“You certainly could try,” Jack responded. “You certainly have us outgunned and outnumbered. But,” Jack said with a smile, “we’re faster. After raiding your ship, I have plenty of supplies to get me out of the solar system. Who knows what we’ll find out there? I’m more than willing to find out. Or…”

“Or?”

“Or you could invite us to dinner. We can sit down, talk this out, put an end to 120 years of war between our peoples. The gate can be put together and shut down, and whatever damage has been done to Erestia can begin to be repaired. Everybody wins, F’ath. Everybody.”

The Omegan clasped his hands behind his back and walked back to his own chair. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

“Live a life of courage, do the right thing. This is the right thing for both our peoples, Commander,” Jack said with all the earnestness he could muster.

F’ath M’isti sat motionless and silent. Jack watched his purple-skinned foe think, not pressing the issue. After a couple of minutes, the Omegan smiled. “All right, Captain. Let’s have that dinner and… chat. What do you propose?”

Jack nodded. “In twelve hours, we will meet whatever escort you wish to send at the largest moon of Mars - Phobos. From there we will proceed under flag of truce to wherever you would like to dine and… chat.”

“I accept those terms. You will be met and escorted to the Kan’Tar, where we will meet in person, Captain.”

The captain of the War Angel smiled. “I’m looking forward to it, Commander. Keys out.”

Jack turned to look at Richard. “What did you think, Clover?”

“I think that guy scares the living crap out of me, Jack. No way in hell he has any intention of honoring his bargain.”

“Oh, he will for a while,” Jack replied. “No worries for you, though. You aren’t going.”

“I’m not?”

Jack shook his head slowly. “Nope. Got a job for you.” Richard started to look relieved. “Don’t worry, it’s also ridiculously dangerous.”

“I feel much better,” Richard said dryly.

“Cheer up, man. You’ll still be safer than you would be inside the RGC and in the middle of our backstabbing contest.” Jack took a deep breath. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

“You had a plan last time, too.”

“Stop killing the mood, Richard.”

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

War Angel: part fifty-nine


2142- In Orbit Around Pluto

Sarah handed the journal back to Jack. “I don’t get it. He doesn’t seem to talk about it anymore after that.”

He set the book down gently on the nightstand. “He never mentions it again. Really, it’s one of the few actual loose ends in his journals. I’ve always assumed that they either found a simple explanation or it just wasn’t all that important. They had so much other stuff to work with that maybe it was something he couldn’t waste any energy on.”

“But now you think you have the answer?”

Jack smiled. “I have a theory, at least. Let’s say you’re the Omegans. Highly advanced race, traveling the universe, checking things out. You land on a backwater dump of a world, the inhabitants extremely un-evolved from a technological standpoint. But you see some potential in them and befriend them. So you share your beliefs, your culture with them. This includes your mythology, your religion, you name it.”
“Where are you going with this?”

He continued. “You tell them of your version of the afterlife, and the natives buy into it.”

“You’re starting to worry me.”

“I’m getting there. So you’re advanced enough as a species that you can travel across the galaxy. But what happens if you die a long way from home? How do you find your way to the afterlife?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Umm… you don’t because there’s no such thing.”

Jack held up his hand. “Hold on, hold on. They believe strongly, remember? So perhaps wherever they go, they construct a way for the dead to enter Erestia. And on Earth, they leave it in the hands of the natives that they liked so much.”

“It’s official: you’ve gone completely insane. Jack, come on! You’re suggesting that space aliens crossed the galaxy, befriended a tribe of Native Americans, and left them a key to Heaven when they took off. And for the last hundred plus years, those same aliens have been showing up and killing us in droves.” She paused to take a deep breath. “I’m starting to really regret sleeping with you, because I’m probably going to have to shoot you.”

“Have some faith. I know it sounds crazy, but think about this: the first attack was in 2018. Only a couple of years before that, Earth scientists fired up the largest supercollider in history. Things got a little crazy. There were dimensional breaches reported, small singularities cropped up, strange frequencies began showing up on the electromagnetic spectrum… there were some fundamental changes in our relationship with the physical universe at that point.”

She cut him off. “And you think that when this stuff was happening, the gateway or whatever that the Omegans left here got knocked offline.”

“Offline? Hell, there could have been an incursion! Our experiments could have punctured Erestia and done it damage. If twentieth century Earth people had discovered that Heaven had been invaded and/or damaged in some way, how would they have responded?”

“By nuking the shit out of whatever did it.” She rubbed her temples. “I can’t believe I’m buying this shit. I must be crazier than you.”

“That makes me feel better, oddly.”

“So why still come back here after all this time? They could have just turned the entire planet into rubble and forgot about us during the first period.”

“Only one answer to that: the gateway, or the pieces to it, must still be here and active. They must be trying to find it so they can close it permanently and get it away from the insanity of the human race.”

“Suddenly I can’t blame them.”

“I can; they’re still bastards. The tricky part is that when they eventually get what they want, I have zero doubt that they will try and reduce Earth into a new asteroid belt. So we have to beat them, and beat them decisively, at the same time sharing a goal with them: shutting down this gateway. Once we win, we can’t leave them any reason to come back. The Erestia thing has to be loud and public.”

She sighed. “I hate to ask, but do you know where it is?”

Jack stood and stretched. “I was thinking about it as you were reading. The Omegans have concentrated their searching of the planet to various areas over their various occupations. The only thing I could really see that these places have in common is a large number of museums. So the door to Erestia must have some sort of physical component. True or not, they must assume that archaeologists have found however many pieces there are and spread them out. It’s a logical assumption.”

It began to sink in for Sarah. “But we know where at least one piece of it was… back in 2019.”

“If we can get close to home, we might be able to jack into the databanks and follow where the stuff went when Steven Keys and his group were done on the island.”

“How do you propose we do that without taking on the whole damned Omegan armada?” she asked, finding herself uneasy about the potential answer.

Jack grinned. “By getting us invited to dinner.”