Consortium of Planets: Alien Test (8 page)

The loneliness always felt cold to Wystl. She blinked twice and then threatened back. “You will remain quiet or your mouth will join your arms.” She had to look away from Dean because she always hated this part of the test and because – on some deep level – his glare actually scared her.

Beth couldn’t believe her eyes. Amy’s fighter suddenly appeared on one of the screens as the monitor jumped from one location to the next. It was sitting on a round platform that was slightly larger than the fighter. “I see the fighter!” Beth screamed with relief.

Dean jerked his eyes from Wystl and saw the fighter in one piece without a scratch. He turned quickly to Wystl and demanded, “What’s going on?!”

Wystl didn’t speak right away. She considered how telling them might affect the test and if the timing of telling them was even correct. Finally, she decided the time appropriate for more information.

“Colonel, the Consortium of Planets is not interested in death and destruction. We have found that such events are counterproductive and contrary to adding to our culture. Long ago, our species did conquer and destroy new worlds to add to our resources and power; however, we found that once the worlds were conquered, they began to decay. They lost their spirit and drive. They were no longer able to contribute to the C.O.P. and ultimately became a burden.

“Searchers like me have found that if we treat new worlds as partners and allow them to continue unmolested, they will remain creative and productive. If their spirit and dreams are left intact, they continue to advance. Often, we are able to assist our Consortium partners with problems so that their continued growth is assured. We are only interested in developing a productive association with other appropriate species for the betterment of all civilizations. This Test is the way I will determine if Humans are an appropriate species to add to the C.O.P.”

Dean took a deep breath. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you. Since hiding your base on the Moon, you haven’t exactly been up-front with us. This could be more of your Test. If you’ve watched us for decades, as you claim, then you should be aware that equals work things out through diplomacy if they want to be partners. They don’t use a show of force or test their potential partner by putting them at risk.”

“That is your custom,” Wystl conceded with a slow nod. “But we are not negotiating the joint construction of a dam. As I’ve said, the future of both our species could rest on the results of this Test. It is our custom to study a species until the assigned Searcher feels it is appropriate to test that species under stress. There are many questions that a complex species like yours brings up and can only be answered under stress. The answer I’m most interested in is who among your people is best qualified to lead and represent Earth in the Consortium. It would be chaotic to say the least if we had to deal with multiple governments. If you pass the Test, a leader may become obvious.”

Beth broke into Wystl’s explanation, “In case you haven’t noticed, we have a leader: Jonathan Visen.”

“Lieutenant, your chancellor is an aberration in the history of your planet. He may not last long enough to be of any consequence. In the final analysis, if the outcome to the Test is positive, the diplomats will take over and negotiate what treaties are necessary.”

Chapter Six

Amy sat spellbound in her fighter and stared straight ahead at nothing. It was disconcerting to come that close to dying just to find that, somehow, she had survived. She fought to shake her mind into thinking again and gain control of herself. Slowly, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck started to relax and she was able to count her fingers and toes – everything arrived that was supposed to. Then she checked the gauges. They all worked and the ship’s integrity seemed fine.

“Alpha One, this is Alpha Two, over.” There was no response, so she tried again. “Alpha One, are you there?”
Apparently, radios don’t do well when they’re stretched to look like spaghetti
.

Amy had no idea where General Stranova was. From the vantage of her cockpit, she looked down from the platform and saw that she was on the alien base. She looked up through the top of her canopy and saw tall pylons reaching toward the stars. They were holding the underside of the massive dish at the center of the alien base. Out of the top, the Moonbeam’s glittering colors poured powerfully into the dark heavens.

She wasn’t sure if the aliens had screwed up or if it was fate, but the damn thing was right in front of her. Without any hesitation, Amy pressed the red button with her right thumb and the blue button with her left thumb.

Her effort was rewarded: brilliant laser fire ate into the dish’s base structure resulting in a dazzling explosion against her target. She was immediately blinded but quickly regained her eyesight. She could see that her weapons caused the target to become wavy, like water that she could almost see through. For an instant, she thought she saw the lunar landscape. Then the scene reassembled itself with no change. After two more tries with the same results, Amy’s bewilderment gave way to curiosity and she prepared to leave her ship for a closer inspection.

Just as she grabbed the release to her fighter’s canopy, everything began to shake and drop out from under her. Down the side of her fighter, she could see that the platform she sat on had started to descend into a cavern. It quickly grew dark, so she switched on her forward lights.

To her surprise, thirty aliens were waiting a few meters below for her to stop. They stood perfectly still and formed a large circle around the perimeter of the platform. From above, she couldn’t tell if they were wearing armor or if she was seeing what they really looked like. She came to a stop with a slight jolt and could finally see that they were wearing purple body armor with gold trim. When she saw the armor’s round shape and the aliens’ extra set of arms, she exclaimed, “You’ve got to be kidding!”

She was impressed and scared at the same time. None of her training had prepared her for aliens on the Moon, but she had received the best training the Corps had to offer. During that training, she had made friends with a crusty old gunnery sergeant who had been one of her instructors. Gaining his trust for the unproven lieutenant had been much harder than surviving the training. He taught her many things that she had used to get through some tough times, but the one thing that he drummed into her and all her classmates was to keep a charged blaster hidden under her seat whenever she flew.

She could hear his gravelly voice like it was yesterday. It rang of too many cigarettes and beer over the years. Just as he taught her, she reached under the seat and retrieved the weapon.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he would begin. “The engineers that built these magnificent machines have never flown in combat and have convinced the politicians that carrying a handgun will never be necessary; that carrying a gun could even be dangerous. That’s why the regulations prohibit them in the cockpit. But I’m here to tell you that for all their advanced capability, sooner or later, your fighter will break down or get shot out from under you. That being said, you’d better damn well be able to defend yourselves without all of your fancy hardware.”

His words rang loudly in her head.

“Lieutenant Argnoe, the only thing that you can count on in combat is that you can’t count on anything in combat, so have a plan B for that ‘rainy’ day. When that billion-dollar wonder you’re flying falls out of the sky and you’re one-on-one with the enemy, plan B is a fully charged blaster.”

Then he would finish the discussion by making the class recite his mantra as a group.

“Keep your blaster fully operational and never leave home without it.”

Amy looked at the charge indicator light on her blaster and whispered, “Never leave home without it.”
I think it’s about to rain on the Moon
.

Just like the bright green indicator light that showed the blaster was ready, so was Amy. Her fighter’s plasma cannon, four remaining missiles, and lasers blew into the aliens. She watched without emotion as they dove for cover.
Did they think I was going to give up just because they are the big, bad aliens?

Before they could recover from her assault, she punched the fighter’s eject button. The canopy flew off first. It sailed up in a high arch and then down onto the confused aliens. Two aliens who were just beginning to pick themselves up went flying again. An instant later, still buckled into her fighter’s seat, Amy exploded out of the fighter in a flash of blinding light. The ejection shot her right back up through the opening that she had just descended into.

The shock of losing her wing mate was almost too much for Sasha to bear. She hovered aimlessly beside some space junk about forty kilometers above the Earth and stared at it blankly. All the years of hard training that she endured still wasn’t enough to stop Amy’s death or even to prepare her emotionally for the loss. Then she thought about that “fine line” that commanders shouldn’t cross with their subordinates. If she crossed the line and got too friendly with her subordinates, her objectivity as a commander could be compromised. She wondered if she crossed that line with Amy.

Her training was extensive, but her actual combat experience was limited, and so were the number of casualties under her command. At the moment, that lack of experience with loss was keeping Sasha from pulling herself together.

Visen, who had also witnessed the incident, showed no emotion as Amy disappeared down the throat of the alien weapon. He had no compassion for Sasha and her struggle to save her comrade. After all, the pilot was just a pawn, thrown at the aliens to test their abilities, but it was a shame to lose the expensive spacecraft. He listened intently to Sasha’s desperation as her options to save Amy quickly diminished and realized how weak she must be at this low point. Like a large cat stalking its prey, he flipped on his radio and spoke sweetly to Sasha.

“General Stranova, I would like to express my condolences for Captain Argnoe’s loss. I’m sure you will miss her greatly.”

The slimy “snake” hissed into Sasha’s ear. The chancellor’s voice was the one thing that could jolt her back to reality and away from her despair. She took her time responding to the snake. The pause gave her some valuable time to factor him into the situation that she continued to struggle with.

Sasha summoned as much control as possible. “Yes, Chancellor, I regret any loss under my command.” Unable to completely hide her contempt for his untimely communication she pressed on. “I appreciate your immediate response to what just happened. I was attempting to honor her with a moment of
silence
.”

Jonathan ignored the contempt and tried not to show the pleasure he felt from toying with her. “Yes, of course you were. I am so glad to be able to comfort you in this sad time. Please feel free to come by my office whenever you like if you wish to talk about your friend.”

Sasha’s stomach turned acidy and began to churn. His office was the last place she would go. With her strength to maintain the charade waning quickly, she could only respond weakly as she turned off her radio. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

Jonathan smiled as he considered their conversation.
It confirms what I’ve found throughout my career: no matter how strong someone appears, they always have an Achilles’ heel.
Stranova’s weakness was for the people under her command. It gave him some ideas for how to take advantage of her in the future. For now, he would file the information away for later use; at the moment, he was busy preparing a little surprise for some Swiss insurgents who didn’t agree with him having so much power.

General Martel held a poker face while he listened to his boss amuse himself at his general’s expense. When Jonathan finally stopped harassing her, Martel nodded discreetly and made a sick smile. He stepped quickly into a small adjacent office so the chancellor wouldn’t see his reaction. At this stage of the plan, he had to maintain the chancellor’s confidence.

Looking back through the door, Martel could see the young faces of his support staff. He saw their fear grow as they watched the alien Beam inhale the advanced starfighter like it was a piece of dirt being vacuumed up. Dr. Friedmark and his scientists weren’t faring much better: they continued to argue loudly with each other over speakers and monitors, then they would get quiet for a brief time and feverishly work on a possibility. Each time, their efforts would fail and the cycle would continue. Those things were important, but his immediate concern was Sasha’s ability to deal with the loss of her pilot and the failure of the mission.

Sasha sat silent in her grief and felt the chill of space. Her radio was off. There was no one she wanted to talk to, anyway. She looked wild-eyed past the stars in front of her and focused on the infinite emptiness. Slowly, it began to make sense.
I’m all alone now, responsible to no one. Amy is gone. Even Forge and Stone are probably dead by now
. They were dead because of the aliens – aliens that she would destroy or die trying! For Sasha, the mission had changed.

She desperately tried to think of a new strategy. If she was going to succeed, she had to do more than attack the sides and mouth of the Moonbeam. That hadn’t worked, so what else could she assault? Then it dawned on her – the Beam’s base. She would go after its support structure and knock the whole thing down on top of the aliens. Her plan was coming together in her mind as she came around to face the new target.
I’ll come in low and fast before the aliens can react, pull up hard, and sling the tactical nuke right into their fancy “salad bowl.” Wham, bam, and the light goes off.

Before she could initiate her new assault plan, a red button on her console started flashing. It was her boss’s secure channel. Martel wanted to talk to her. She hesitated and then broke left; the aliens would have to wait.

His voice was gentle, almost soothing. “Sasha, I am deeply saddened over Amy’s loss. I know how much all of your people mean to you and how important this mission was to you.”

Thankful for the friendly voice, Sasha wiped her damp eyes and sniffed, “Is this communication secure, sir?”

“You know it is or I wouldn’t have called you on it.”

“Did I just hear you say that the mission
was
important?”

Martel grew concerned when Sasha’s question abruptly changed the direction of their conversation. He straightened up in his large chair and leaned against the desk in his private office. “Sasha, you do realize that the mission has failed? You threw everything you had at them, including your wing mate, to no effect. Sasha, even Forge and Stone have been unable to stop the Moonbeam
and
they’ve been out of oxygen for thirty minutes.”

She couldn’t give up. “Boss, I still have my nuclear device and someone was able to turn the Beam away from Earth. I think that Forge must have done it from the Moon’s surface. Sir, I can’t return to Earth until I’ve used the nuke and tried to save Forge and Stone!”

Martel realized that he would have to pull rank and order her home. It wasn’t safe for her to attack without a wing mate to fly top cover. “General Stranova, I…”

When he began using her rank, Sasha realized that he was getting ready to order her to abort the mission. She cut him off in mid-sentence. “Sir, I’m having trouble hearing you. I must be getting interference from the aliens.”

The radio went dead because she switched to Forge’s frequency. Maybe she couldn’t save Amy, but saving Forge and Stone was still a possibility.

“General Stranova! General Stranova!” Martel barked for the last time. He knew she had turned off the radio and was only pretending that it was broken so she could go after Forge’s team. He could feel his eye twitch as he acknowledged to the empty room, “She’s in great danger.” An instant later, he shook his head and called the Space Wing’s Base Operations to get Sasha the support she needed.