War Angel: part fifty-eight

From the Journal of Steven Keys- June 8, 2019

We are getting nowhere. Okay, that isn’t quite fair. Every day that passes, we get a better idea of who the Omegans are and what their society is like. Our intelligence provides us with a clearer picture of their movements and their numbers. If we’d have known half this shit a year ago, we might have found a way to stop these bastards. Though realistically, there was very little chance they wouldn’t have achieved a landing of some sort. At this point, I’d estimate that we’ll need at least five to ten years in order to build ourselves up to a point where we truly stand a chance of beating them back.

In the meantime, some of the reports have been pretty gruesome. Even though they’ve stopped firing meteors at us, they’re doing a solid job of wiping us out when they land. Shock troops hit the ground running, firing on every living thing in their path. The worldwide death toll right now has moved passed 200 million. That’s so staggering that I can’t even truly comprehend it.

Yet weirdly, I am feeling a sense of peace and calm. I wake up in the morning, stretch, eat a light breakfast, drink a cup of coffee, and go to work. In the middle of all this, I have achieved normalcy and a routine. Crazy! On the mornings where Yumiko has stayed over, we lay together and enjoy the quiet as the sun rises. For just a little while, we forget. It is wonderful.

Then I get moving and remind myself that I am a linguistics professor living and working on a secret Japanese island, trying to find out why aliens have invaded the Earth and what they are doing here. After that, I take a moment to regain my sanity, and then I get back to it.

From the Journal of Steven Keys- June 9, 2019

All the credit goes to Pettit. My favorite frog sociologist (as he said to me “I’m the only ‘frog’ sociologist you know. I’d best be your favorite, cochon.”) was looking over the morning intelligence report while the rest of us yawned and scratched our asses. None of us had paid much attention to it when we read it. Thankfully, we have diverse interests.

“They’re digging in the wilds of Puerto Rico. Huh,” he said. We all just sort of looked at each other and shrugged. “Ah,” he continued, “I was just remembering taking holiday there. Had a crazy experience.” Shareen laughed and asked if it was weed or mushrooms, but Pettit begged off. “Non. Mes amis, we saw a UFO. I swear to you, this thing hovered over San Juan and then moved off into the distance and vanished. It was quite mysterious. Though now it seems rather trite in the grand scheme of things.”

I’m sure if we had footage, you’d be able to see all of our jaws dropping at once, probably in slow motion. Heads swiveled slowly as we looked at each other in amazement.

Pradeep spoke first, and I think he spoke for all of us. “Mother. Fucker. What if they were here before?”

“What if they left something behind?” Yumiko asked softly.

We huddled on that one, immediately calling up any data we had on UFO sightings, but it was clear that what was readily available was not enough. We asked for a meeting with the Colonel, and when we told him what we wanted, he seemed a bit skeptical. However, after explaining it to him, he agreed to try and get what we asked for. We’ll see what happens.

From the Journal of Steven Keys- June 18, 2019

It’s taken us almost a full week, but the data the Colonel was able to get us has started to make sense. There were a surprising number of unexplainable incidents over the past hundred years, almost one actual UFO for every one that can be disproved. We started building that map next to the map of the Omegans’ movements and landings, and after a while we could start to pick up a pattern with certain locations. We can attribute almost thirty percent of the “real” UFOs to places they are at in force right now. As a group we have decided to call that statistically significant.

So now we’re waiting for the Colonel to see if he can get us more intel about those particular incidents. I have no idea what we’ll discover, but at least we’re making headway into something.

From the Journal of Steven Keys- June 20, 2019

Walked into the room this morning to a stunning sight: six large crates. In them we found eyewitness reports from civilians, military personnel, and commercial pilots; telemetry data; classified photos; Presidential orders; an autopsy report; and debris.

Holy mother of God.

I’m glad we shut the door before we started looking at the stuff, because frankly our decorum was not great. For us, it was Christmas morning. A jackpot of goodies just dropped in our laps.

There may have been shouting and whooping.

The autopsy, interestingly, was not of a fully grown Omegan, at least not from what we could tell. That’s something we’ll have to come back to later, I think. Instead, we divvied up the reports, photos, and debris and got started.

I was reading reports, mostly. To be honest, after a while it got boring. People saw stuff, had no idea what it was, and couldn’t catch it. Same thing over and over. But it does seem from the descriptions that what were being seen in most of these cases was indeed were Omegan ships. Smaller craft, more maneuverable, but Omegan all the same. Just as I was about to take a break and stretch my legs, though, it got a little interesting elsewhere. Pradeep called me over to look at the debris.

“Professor Steve? How about a little linguistics help?”

He had my immediate attention. Parsing out the Omegan language is something I would love to be able to do on a grand level. My first thought was about how I could use whatever I was about to see, but what he showed me was pretty bizarre. Pradeep handed me a piece of jagged metal. Its surface was smooth and shiny, with some small scoring, and on the flip side it had a number of symbols that I recognized from my time on the ship in orbit. “Definitely our bad guys,” I told him, and handed it back to him.

He nodded and took it back from me. “That’s what I thought, too.” Reaching down, he picked up a second piece of metal. Showing it to me, he then placed it next to the first one, and I could see that they fit together. “Obviously two pieces of the same whole.” I was starting to get confused, which I think he could see. He flipped over the second piece and handed it to me. My confusion grew immediately.

“I don’t understand,” I told him.

“Does that look familiar to you?” he asked. I nodded weakly. There was damage obscuring some of it, but having worked in my field for a long time, and having lived in an area that focused on Native American history pretty heavily, I had no doubt in my mind about what I was seeing.

“This,” I told him, “appears to be written in Cherokee.”

Pradeep swallowed hard. “What does it say?”

I looked at it again, tilting the piece around to catch every angle of lighting I could. Finally, I realized I was just delaying the inevitable.

“Deep, I could give you a full, ridiculous translation, but the gist of it is this: what we have here is an invitation of sorts.”

“To what?”

“The afterlife.”

War Angel: part fifty-seven

Ben stared hard at Jack. His palms had begun to sweat, and his breathing was shallow. Yet he knew he had to focus. Jack stared back at him, his posture relaxed and free. How had it come to this, Ben wondered. Only days earlier, he had considered Keys to be a lightweight, a guy who took school and life a little too seriously and who probably would never rise above his social station. But now… “You’re a murderer, Jack. A murderer.”

Jack waived him off. “I may be a pirate. Or a terrorist. But I think murderer is a bit strong. If Morrison had his way, we’d be prisoners right now.”

“Like my dad is,” Ben interrupted. Jack nodded. “You going to kill me, too, Jack?”

“Why would I wake you up just to kill you? I even got Kate to promise not to kill you.” Jack paused. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“No way I can just lay here and let you let my father die, man. No way.”

Jack stood up and began to pace. “I want to save his life. I really do. I just need to find the way to do it. We need leverage.” The young captain stopped and picked up a scalpel, twisting it in his hand and watching the medlab lighting glimmer off it. “I just don’t what that leverage is.” Jack looked at a nearby monitor. “I have thirteen hours to find it, though. There has to be something…” his voice trailed off.

“These bastards have been looking for something on our planet for over a hundred years, and you’re going to figure out what it is in the next thirteen hours?” Ben swiveled to look at Wilma. “Doc, I think I’d like to go back into my coma. That’ll make my death a lot less painful than yours.”

“When you put it that way, it sounds a little more daunting,” Jack replied, Ben shaking his head in agreement. “So, uh, don’t put it that way, okay?” Jack did a heel spin and made his way out of the medlab, leaving a mystified Ben Drake behind. Wilma walked over to him and held up a syringe of clear liquid.

“This will put you back under if you really want,” she said quietly, her eyes focused on the door as it closed.

Ben looked up at her and thought about it for a moment. Finally, he shook his head no, and she walked away. As she did, he began looking around for his clothes. “Hey Doc? Have you seen my underwear?”

Without hesitation or turning around, she replied “Is there anyone on this ship who hasn’t?”

Sarah answered the door, wiping away tears. Jack paused for a moment, surprised to see her in such a state, his curiosity almost overwhelming. Seeing it in his eyes, she shook her head at him. “Not now, Jack, okay?” She moved aside and beckoned him into the room. He walked in slowly, almost as if he was afraid of disturbing the air.

She walked past him and plopped back down into the bed, lying on her side, right in the middle. Seeing that she had not left room for him, Jack moved her desk chair across the room and next to the bed, and he sat down. Minutes passed as each waited for the other to talk. Finally, Jack broke the impasse. “I don’t know what to do.”

Her brow furrowed. “I’m not exactly full of ideas right now.”

“The easiest thing to do would be nothing,” he said softly. “We stay completely safe if we stay right here for now.”

“That won’t last, you know. Eventually…”

“We’ll have to find a new hiding place. Right. Hiding places, really. We’ll need more than one. Otherwise we’ll become predictable. Hey, can we survive inside the sun’s corona?”

Sarah raised her head, incredulous. “That’s a joke, right?”

“So that’s a ‘no’. Good to know.”

“Give me a year to really work on this old tug, and then we can talk about hiding near the sun.”

Jack grinned. “I may hold you to that.”

Sarah rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “Jack? What happens to us when we die?”

“I… don’t know. I’ve always assumed that when we do, that’s it. Nothing else.”

She exhaled. “For centuries, most of the people on Earth believed there was some sort of afterlife. That you would be reunited there with loved ones.”

“It’s a lovely idea, no question.”

Her hand reached over and grasped Jack’s. “I… dammit, Jack. It would be wonderful if that were true.” She gave him a squeeze, then let go. “I suppose the Omegans never think about this kind of stuff. Bastards.”

“Not entirely true. Being a big purple monster doesn’t mean there’s no Heaven. They call it Erestia, I think. Very similar place to some concepts believed in by early Native Americans. We’re talking stuff that’s five hundred years old, mind you, but you get the general idea.”

Sarah giggled. “That would be pretty funny, a bunch of purple monsters showing up and finding early North American natives in their Heaven. ‘Did you guys take a wrong turn or something?’”

Jack’s jaw went slack. “Holy shit, Sarah! I think you’re onto something.”

She sat up, looking at him warily. “Jack, the Omegans aren’t attacking us in order to look for the door to this Erestia. That’s crazy.”

“Not quite what I meant, and not as crazy as you think. What if, just for kicks, Erestia really is an actual place? And what if the door really is actually on Earth?”

“How could that even be remotely possible?”

His eyes opened wide and he flashed a maniacal grin. “Let me go get my ancestor’s journals. I have something I want to show you.”

War Angel: part fifty-six

Gina laid her head back on her pillow, her hair gently spilling out in both directions. Her eyes fluttered as she fought to keep them open, fatigue both physical and emotional settling in to her bones and joints. This was the first real chance they had to rest since she made her discovery in the caverns carved beneath Pluto, and it dawned on her that her life had suddenly become something surreal.

Yet, she realized, she had also caught a lucky break. “I’m alive and not trapped or imprisoned. That counts for a lot,” she thought. “I just have to stay that way.” Her thoughts turned to her parents and the escape plan she knew they had in place. The small island in the middle of the Pacific was a perfect hiding place; the volcano was long dormant, leaving underground passages where equipment could be set up away from prying eyes. The many years of activity before its dormancy had generated an electromagnetic field in the area that generally blocked sensor probing from a distance, and any up-close look by the Omegans would reveal no human habitation.

“As long as they get themselves there, they’ll be alright,” she said softly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the ship. “We’re not the only free humans left,” Gina smiled. “We’re just the only ones who can fly.”

Suddenly an insistent pounding came at her door. “Gina!” More pounding. “Gina!” The voice was half whisper, half-scream, but she realized quickly that it was Kate. Gina rolled out of bed and bounded across the room to open the door. As she did, she saw her friend doubled over in pain, blood running down the legs of her pants.

“Shit!” Gina yelled. “Let me call the Doc!”

“No! No! Just let me in!” Kate replied. Gina moved aside and Kate stumbled forward. She put her arm around Kate and led her inside. Kate slumped down to the floor and curled herself into a ball. “Doc Gray doesn’t need to know about this, okay?”

Gina’s eyes widened. “Know about what? What the hell is going on, Kate? You’re bleeding! You’re bleeding from… oh… oh no.”

“Okay, yes,” Kate looked up at Gina. “I’m having a miscarriage. Happy now?”

“But that’s impossible! No one has had a miscarriage in decades,” Gina replied.

Kate groaned. “You mean no one has had a natural miscarriage in decades. But if you mix up a few chemicals, create an abortifacient…”

Gina dropped to the ground next to her friend. “I… damn, girl. Did you overcook the mix?” Kate nodded slowly. “Come on, let’s get these pants off and start figuring out what to do next.”

“That’s what got me in trouble in the first place,” Kate replied, gritting her teeth through the pain.

“Only you would joke at a time like this, Stinson.” Gina slowly removed Kate’s pants and threw them across the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much blood in my life, Kate. Are you sure we shouldn’t get you to medlab?”

Kate shook her head. “There would be questions I don’t really want to answer,” she said softly.

“What about stopping the bleeding?”

“I got it under control.”

Gina rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

“Bitch.” Gina stood and walked across the room to grab some towels, then returned to her friend’s side and began cleaning her up. “I know this is crazy, Gina. I know.”

“I just don’t understand. I mean, yeah, I get it in a certain respect, but why not go to the doc and - ?”

Kate grunted. “No. No medlab.”

“You mean the place where maybe this could have been done without you exsanguinating yourself? Where a qualified physician could have made sure you didn’t overcook the mix?”

Stinson cut her off. “I just couldn’t, okay? He couldn’t know. He. Couldn’t. Know.”

Gina pulled back, confused. “Jack? Why would he care? Are you kidding, he’d probably be thrilled to see you matching him obsession level for obsession level.” Kate rolled over and looked Gina in the eye. As she did, she shook her head slowly. “Oh, no,” Gina said, realizing what Kate meant. “Oh, no. No wonder you hate him so much. No wonder you tried to kill him.”

“It seemed,” Kate exhaled, “like the right thing to do at the time.” A small tear fell down her face. “So did this.”

Gina threw the bloody towels into a pile and laid down facing Kate. “It goes no further than me. I mean, you’re pretty much my best friend you know.”

Kate coughed. “We don’t exactly have a lot of options. You’re kinda stuck with me.”

“Bitch.”

War Angel: part fifty-five

2142- In Orbit Around Pluto

Jack knocked on the door to Kate’s quarters. “Come in, Jack,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear. He entered and looked at her, surprised. She walked away from him, her fingers intertwined behind her head. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said.

“Huh,” he replied. “I didn’t even know I was coming here until five minutes ago.”

Kate plopped down onto her bed. “Women’s intuition,” she said with a sharp laugh. “Or logic. I know what you came to say, so say it and let’s get it in the open.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m on my way to the medlab, and I’m going to instruct Dr. Gray to wake up Ben. However,” he paused for a moment, “if you’re just going to try and finish the job the first time you see him, it would helpful to know that up front.”

She rolled her eyes as she shifted herself into the lotus position. “I have no current plans to murder Ben Drake, Captain.”

“Current?”

“Hard to plan ahead in the face of Armageddon.” Kate stopped for a moment, looking for the right words. “I know… I know we need every hand right now. And he has the right to know about his father.” Jack nodded. “So I’ll behave. For now.”

Jack nodded, seemingly appeased, and prepared to leave. But before he was fully out of the room, she added a new wrinkle he hadn’t thought about. “Have you considered, though, that he might try and kill me first?”

The War Angel’s captain stood motionless for a moment, considering her words. “I hadn’t.” He rubbed his temples, acutely aware of the pounding in his head that had begun to develop. Jack then took a couple of steps, and the door closed behind him. As he made his way to the medlab, he wondered exactly what he was going to say to Drake and how he was going to keep his own crew from killing each other.

“Good talk, Kate. Thanks,” he muttered sarcastically.

Kate paced around her quarters. It was a sparsely decorated space, even for an old heap like the Angel. The trip was only supposed to be for a couple of weeks, and she had anticipated spending most of her time in the lab, working on her samples. Back on Earth, she had few friends and loved ones, so pictures were something she had few of anyway. They were kept packed away in a small trunk in her campus housing. She did, however, enjoy reading, and had brought a tablet containing some of her favorite instructional manuals for fighting styles and weaponry usage.

The tablet sat next to her bed, which was always immaculately made when she woke up in the morning. “Order is important,” she had explained to Gina, and she meant it. “All things have a proper place.”

Looking around her quarters now, though, she couldn’t help but see the room as a tomb. “I suppose there’s no time like the present,” she whispered to the walls. Kate spun on her heel and left the room in a hurry.

Passing through the ship, she strode into her lab and began opening cabinets and pulling out chemical vials. Kate worked quickly and efficiently, mixing different substances in varying amounts, until she was finally satisfied with the results. She placed the finished substance in a rack, then opened a fresh syringe and used it to withdraw the amount she thought she needed.

She sat the syringe on the table and lifted her shirt over her head. Kate walked to a nearby mirror and stared at herself. “Stinson, what the hell are you doing?” she asked herself. “Don’t you realize this is crazy?” Her eyed darkened and her tone changed. “It would be crazy NOT to do this,” she replied. “Letting this go any further is the worst thing for me and the worst thing for this ship.” Her right hand snatched up the needle and her left hand traced a slow path across her abdomen. When she reached the point she was looking for, she gently slid the cold, steel tip into her body. As it reached the proper depth, she pushed the plunger, and the concoction made its way into her body. Done, she tossed the syringe into the waste recycler and left to return to her room.

“How do you feel,” Jack asked Ben, watching as the groggy young man struggled to gain awareness.

Ben coughed. “Like someone tried to kill me,” he replied in a low, gravelly voice.

Jack smiled. “Then you’re right where you’re supposed to be. Nice recovery, slick.”

“Thanks.” His eyes looked upward as Wilma leaned in to pull a thermometer off of his forehead. “Hey, am I gonna sound like this for the rest of my life?” Jack looked at Wilma and she shrugged. “Shit.”

Wilma gave him her best doctor smile. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Drake. You’ll heal up just fine. You just need some time.”

“So what’s going on? We getting ready to run?”

Jack’s emotions betrayed him. “No, Ben. We didn’t run. We’re not going to run. Ever.”

Ben swallowed hard. “Wait, what? You’re wearing Captain’s insignia!” Suddenly he looked paranoid and began to thrash in the bed. Wilma and Jack held him down, and he began to get more agitated and angry. “One of you tell me what’s going on!”

“Okay, man, okay! I’m getting to it!” Jack replied. “Just relax. You have a lot to catch up on.” Jack nodded at Wilma, and she moved away from the table. He then focused on Ben. “The first thing you need to know is that Morrison is dead, and I killed him…”

War Angel: part fifty-four

From the Journal of Steven Keys- January 8, 2019

Had dinner with Yumiko this evening. We cooked fresh fish over an open fire on the edge of the island. It’s weird; Nadine has only been gone for four months, but it seems like years now. I suppose that’s a side effect of your planet being invaded and occupied by an opposing force.

After, we took a walk along the beach. She very tentatively reached over and took my hand, and I admit that I jumped a little. But then I calmed myself and locked my fingers in hers and it just felt good. I was always prone to over analysis, but right now I’m asking myself what a relationship would be like in this new world we find ourselves living in. And not just for myself, either. As I sat down to write, my thoughts were drifting towards children. Why would you even consider bringing one into the world as it is right now? Yet, if we do not continue to breed and this war lingers, we risk our numbers falling and becoming an extinct species. Counterpoint: the idea of breeding merely to create cannon fodder is repugnant. What the hell is wrong with me???

Maybe I should just let this thing happen and see where it goes. We’re both adults, and we both have needs. Why think about it beyond that? If I’m being bluntly honest, the idea of her warming my bed, curled up next to my body… a little human contact would go a long way for me right now.

From the Journal of Steven Keys- January 10, 2019

The morning got off to a strange start today. I was preparing to go teach my class when a knock on the door came. It was a note asking me to head directly to Colonel Runton’s office. My initial assumption was that it couldn’t be good news. Of course, there’s rarely such a thing as good news these days, so that was a solid bet, but when I got there, he surprised me. He gave me a new assignment.

Yesterday a new contingent of teachers and scientists arrived on the island. Like many of the others, they were smuggled away from the mainland and took small boats across the water to get here. So far, we’re keeping the Omegan eyes away from us here. If we’re ever to mount a solid military response to these bastards, we can’t have them figuring it out before it’s way too late.

What Colonel told me, though, was interesting- these guys weren’t all Japanese. Two are from India, one from Pakistan, one from China, and one from France. And they aren’t all physicists or engineers; the French guy (Pettit) is a sociologist, the Paki (Pradeep) is a psychologist, and one of the Indians (a woman named Shareen) is an anthropologist. The idea is that we need to really begin gaining an understanding of our enemy if we’re going to fight back and win. So we’ll need weapons and the ability to engage them in combat, but we also need to know some basics about the Omegans themselves. Such as…

Why are they here?

Runton asked me to head up this new task force and we met immediately this afternoon. They are an interesting group, and I was fascinated to watch Shareen and Pradeep deal with one another. Their two nations have been enemies forever, and now here they are working side by side to try and save the world. But they are professionals and were able to put that animosity aside, for which I’m personally grateful. I think Pettit might have been sweating it, too. Anyway, we got started by asking ourselves the basic question of why the Omegans are here, and while we didn’t solve it right out of the gate, it was helpful to really review what they had done so far.

Take the destruction of the cities, for instance. It’s clear that they could have continued raining down death from orbit until we were completely wiped out, so why did they stop? They could have left the atmosphere a mess, but they’ve scrubbed it mostly clean. Yet there is no sign of large-scale landing, so colonization doesn’t seem to be their goal. Intelligence suggests that they haven’t done much in the way of building anything either. Their forces are scattered around the planet, and they mostly seem to be using existing structures for living purposes and headquarters.

It’s all damned confusing, frankly. But Pettit said something late in the meeting that really jumped out at as. If they aren’t looking to kill us all and move in, then there must be an object or objects more important here than humans. Logic tells us that they want something; we need to figure out just what it is. Hell, if it isn’t that important, maybe we’ll help them find it if that will get rid of them. Or maybe we can bargain with it if we find it first. Who knows?

So tomorrow we’re going to start developing a large scale map of everyplace we know them to be and look for patterns. What is the geographic territory like? What resources are nearby? What machinery are they using? What’s the weather like? Maybe if we examine every minute detail of what moves they’re making, we can find out what they want and put an end to this war while there’s still a civilization left to be saved.

War Angel: part fifty-three

“Mother, have you ever considered that the Omegans could come back?” Jack paced around the library in his family home, his hands absentmindedly tracing a path across the covers of the books. He stopped and looked at the thin layer of dust on his fingertips, waiting for Victoria to respond. Finally, she sat her coffee down and scratched her left arm. As the scratching continued, it grew more fervent, finally stopping when Jack grabbed her arm and pointed silently to a small welling of blood. In her nervousness, she had broken the skin.

“I try not to,” she said, taking a deep breath. “In many ways they have never left. When I am plagued with nightmares… well, they’re of my childhood.”

“Understandable.”

“If they do come back… if they do… we must run,” she said, sadness filling her voice. “They are a race that remembers, and the Keys family has a history with them. That’s what got…” She faltered.

Jack nodded. “That’s what got Grandma killed. Right.”

She continued. “There’s a place we can go. But I hope it is never necessary for you to ever know where it is. They have to stay away. They have to. We’ve beaten them twice.”

“No, Doctor. Let’s not wake him up yet.” Jack stood and walked to the front of the bridge. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared out at the faces of his crew. It was clear that they needed him right then – they needed him to tell them what to do. If he didn’t act now and show leadership, he would lose them, that much he was certain about. He cleared his throat and spoke calmly and slowly. “My mother and the rest of my family have had a plan in place for years for what to do if the Omegans ever returned. Anyone named Keys went to ground the first sign of a ship in orbit. I need to know about the rest of you right now. Right now.”

Richard raised his right arm. “My father is in long-term care in a facility in Rhode Island. He doesn’t have much time left as it is.” He stopped for a moment, contemplating something, then voiced it. “For all I know, the shock of the Omegans arriving again could have killed him already. I… I have no one else.”

Kate shook her head. “My mom just got married and is living under a new last name. Haven’t changed it in the records yet. She should be safe. Other assorted relatives are out there, but nothing that can be held over my head.”

Gina exhaled. “My folks would have immediately into hiding. Pretty standard for scientists at this point. Extended family should be clear; none in the military.”

Jack turned to Sarah. She stared through him, saying nothing. He started to ask her directly, but her eyes narrowed and he knew that was the wrong moment. Instead he turned to Wilma. “Doctor?”

“I have a lot of old people, Jack. A lot. But they wouldn’t last long enough to get to the point where they could get the same treatment as Admiral Kelly.” Suddenly, she smiled. “Oh, and I have an ex-husband. They can kill that bastard in as many different ways that they can think of. They’d be doing the universe a favor.”

That sent the bridge into a round of laughter, bringing the tension level down to something manageable. “Okay,” Jack said, “you all need a break, and I need some time to think things out. Let’s reconvene here in five hours. Take a nap, get some food, do whatever you need to do. One hostage does not mean the end for us. Not yet, at least.”

The dinner table was beautiful. Taper candles flickered in the dimming sunlight, shadows creeping over the Matto home. Vincent Matto sat back in his chair, reading an old novel by someone named Irving. Sarah’s mother, Eliza, put the finishing touches on the meal she had spent most of the day preparing. It was, Sarah thought, one of those days that reminded you that life was beautiful. Even in a society regimented by technology, you could find a way to celebrate the past and honor it, and you could do so in ways that helped families bond and strengthen their love for each other. “I am very, very lucky,” she thought.

Eliza portioned out food to her husband and daughter. That Sunday, it was filet mignon, with fresh-grown asparagus and cauliflower, and homemade wheat bread. Vincent couldn’t stop smiling. “Honey, you have really outdone yourself. This is incredible!” Eliza blushed and gave him a slight grin, and took another bite of her own food. Her husband was a man prone to flattery; it had certainly helped during their courtship. But this time around, she also knew he was right. This was the best food she had ever prepared in their efforts to occasionally embrace traditional cooking.

Ever humble herself, though, she deflected the attention away from her. “Sarah, I am so glad you came home this weekend. How are things going?”

Sarah gave her parents an update on the mission planning for the War Angel. Vincent seemed pleased, but Eliza was more reserved in her response. “Space travel out to Pluto? Ugh, sweetie. That does not sound promising.”

“It’ll be okay, Mom. Two weeks and I’ll be back.”

Vincent leaned back in his chair. “I did a little space travel back in the Second Period. Upset my stomach. But when I got back, I appreciated this place a bit more. Might be that way for you, too.”

Sarah smiled. “I hope so. At least there are no Omegans for my trip.” She stopped and thought about that for a moment. “Or for my entire lifetime, I hope.”

Her mother and father both shuddered. “Not again,” Eliza muttered. “Never again.” Sarah looked at Vincent, an eyebrow raised. He stood from the table and walked over to the liquor cabinet. Opening the doors, he reached to the back and pulled out a green bottle and showed it to Sarah. “Hundred year-old whiskey. Worth a fortune. Tastes like liquid heaven.”

She perked up. “What are you waiting for, Dad? Pour the shots!”

Vincent shook his head and put the bottle back. “Your mother and I made a pact a long time ago. This bottle only gets opened for two reasons: if one of us dies, or if the Omegans come back.” Sarah looked at her mother and father, confused. He walked back to the table and sat back down.

Eliza turned to her daughter and took Sarah’s hand in her own. “I will not go through another occupation, sweetie. A shot of cyanide mixed in a glass of whisky…” Sarah pulled away, stunned by her mother’s calmness in explaining their pact. Eliza continued, “But it’s nothing to worry about sweetie. Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

Sarah bit into her steak, suddenly feeling as though it had lost its flavor.

Alone in her quarters, Sarah Matto dropped her façade and broke down, her tears overwhelming her breathing. She crawled into bed and curled into a ball, holding her knees to her chest. In a now uncertain universe, there was suddenly something she could be sure about: she was now an orphan.

War Angel: part fifty-two

The crew gathered on the bridge, filing in slowly, each one full of dread, yet also curious. There was no question- the message would be from The Omegans. The War Angel had bloodied their noses, and a response wasn’t going to be quiet or subtle.

Jack looked at Richard, and the engineer walked to the comm. station. He typed in an access code, and the ship’s main video screen flared to life. In the center of the picture was the Omegan they had seen in the first communiqué they received. Only now he looked different- the Omegan seemed to almost be smiling, which sent a shiver down Wilma’s spine.

“That is one creepy bastard,” Gina said in a whisper, though the message was not live. Still, looking at him gave her a sense of omnipresence about their alien foes, which was extremely disconcerting for the War Angel’s pilot. The image remained still for a moment, and then he began to speak.

“Greetings, children. I am F’ath M’isti, Supreme Commander. I am aboard my ship, the Kan’Tar. I believe that you Earthers refer to it as ‘the RGC’. No matter. I send you this message as an offering of congratulations. You engaged one of our ships in honorable combat and emerged victorious. Impressive for such… neophytes. Our warriors live on in Erestia.”

“But there is a penalty for such a victory, and you will pay it now.” The screen flickered for a moment, and the picture changed. They were now looking at what appeared to be a cell of some sort. In it, Admiral Kelly was being held up by by two Omegans, one on each side of him. One nodded to the camera and reached around behind the old man. Kelly barely had a chance to scream before a knife plunged through his chest, piercing him just below the heart. As blood began to flow from his chest and mouth, the Omegan’s arm began moving wildly and Kelly gave one last blood curdling scream before he hit the ground. The Omegan held his bloody hand toward the camera, displaying a section of the dead man’s spine in his hand and laughing.

Richard paused the message and threw up on the floor. Jack looked away and at the rest of his crew. Gina had tears in her eyes, as did Sarah. Kate’s eyes were filled with hate and anger. Wilma was stone-faced, betraying no emotion at all. Jack looked back to Richard and saw that now his whole body was shaking. He knew he had to do something immediately, or he would lose his crew.

He just didn’t know what that “something” was.

Jack paced the bridge, his thoughts in turmoil. At first he walked back and forth, as if trying to dig a path in the floor. But after a few laps of doing so, he began walking to each of the others. As he walked past each one, he stopped and placed a hand on their shoulders, speaking a single word. To Kate: “Revenge.” To Richard: “Survival.” To Gina: “Courage.” To Wilma: “Justice.”

To Sarah: “Freedom.”

As he finished, he turned back to Richard and nodded at him to restart the message. The screen flickered again and F’ath M’isti reappeared. He now appeared smug and amused.

“You were warned about the price of disobedience before. Your Admiral Kelly has paid for it with his life. This is just the beginning, children. You will stand down, or more will die because of your actions. Indeed, I will make it simple for you.” M’isti gestured off camera, and the crew could see an Omegan push a body into view of the camera. There was a hood over the man’s head, but he was clearly alive. Jack briefly wondered if the Omegan was going to execute a second person on camera and braced himself for his crew’s reaction.

“I have,” the Omegan continued, “read a little bit about you all in your precious EAD files. Thus it was a pleasant surprise to discover that you all have more to lose with your actions than you’ve truly considered. So let me make myself clear: you will stand down. You will fly back to Earth under flag of surrender. Or the next person to pay the price for your willfulness will be Prisoner 1212.” The Omegan violently snatched the hood off of the man’s head and the camera lingered for a moment on his face. His face was scratched and bruised, and dried blood speckled his lips, but he was recognizable to everyone watching. “You have twenty-four of your Earth hours to respond and comply.”

The message ended and the screen went dark. No one spoke. Jack walked back to the captain’s chair and sat down, leaning back and staring at the ceiling for a moment. Minutes passed, then finally Sarah broke the silence. “Jack? What are you thinking?” He turned his head slowly to look at her and said nothing. They held each other’s eyes for a moment, locked in a stalemate.

Wilma, fed up, let out an exasperated groan and spoke up. “Look, let’s just start with a simple question: should I load a syringe with stimulants and wake up Ben? He might be interested to know that his father’s spine is probably going to be ripped out by this time tomorrow.”