<< Back to Eps. 5-6 --- Continue to Eps. 9-10 >>
Episode 7: Into Hiding
"Gaaaaah!"
The utter frustration in that one word spread over the entire jungle in an echo of anger that made even the tree sap shudder.
"Where have you gone?" She sank to her knees in the midst of the jungle and cried, "Where have you been stolen away to, my Mariposa?" She wailed, clawing at hair that hadn't seen a good washing in weeks. The wild look in her eyes spoke of long sleepless nights filled with unseen terrors.
"Where did she take you…?" The question tapered off into a whisper that abruptly turned into a sob.
"No!" She vehemently chastised herself, coming back to her senses, "it cannot end this way! Giving that witch the victory is not an option!"
She turned her face to the tiny patch of sky shining through the thick canopy above and, fist raised in determination shouted, "I will have my daughter back, Aurelia, nachash of all nachashim*! I will have her returned to me!"
Then that little sliver of doubt that clung to her since she was dumped on this deserted world started nagging at her again, "How are you going to leave this place, you silly woman?" The voice stung. "How will you find one girl among millions of stars? You are a fool!"
"Get out of my head!" She bellowed at the torturous thoughts, then gritted her teeth and declared in a low, firm tone, "I will leave here. The first ship that I chance to meet I will be aboard." She thought for a moment and added, eyes hardening, "No matter what I have to do to accomplish that."
She stood and took her first steps of confidence onward, forging farther ahead into the dense jungle.
"Sir, we have to stop for repairs," the executive officer pleaded with his captain. "There is no way we can continue in this condition. The Eratites* may have only one battleship, but it is indeed a powerful one, and we have escaped it. Please, sir, we have to stop." The man kept on, "We must assess our losses – the casualties are great; we do not even know who we lost in that dreadful fight, much less –"
"Shut up, Pauker," the captain snapped at his second in command. "Just because you were promoted in the field doesn't mean you can prattle on whenever you please now." Captain Yitzhak Raphan, commander of the Rakiah Cobel,* let his unhappiness be loudly known.
The conflict with the Eratite ship ended in disaster with his ship being the only one able to limp away, and that just barely. Even Colonel Gantz, the fleet commander, didn't know they were still alive. If "alive" was the correct term. They lost so many good men and women in the Eratite encounter… Raphan wondered how they could ever recover from such a blow. Better, he thought, to be thought dead for a while and regain their strength as a unit before returning to Gantz's command. If they returned now, not only would it be a disgrace to Raphan personally, but he would risk his crew being split up and sent in different directions to other ships whose crews were depleted weeks ago at the edge of the Eratite solar system.
The Rakiah Cobel had been his home for many years, and the ship's crew his family for just as long. He was not willing to hand that over lightly.
"Sir, we have to stop now," the XO continued to insist, apparently immune to fear and good sense when it came to Raphan.
Raphan narrowed his eyes at Pauker. "I am aware of the situation," the captain growled. "Now, as I said before," his tone hardened and his vocal volume skyrocketed, "Shut up, Pauker!"
This, as last, earned Raphan some silence. The XO stepped back quickly and nodded, astonishment on his gaunt face as he murmured, "Oh… kay…" He let his gaze drop to the floor.
"Crew of the Cobel," Raphan began, his voice echoing through the entire ship, "We have seen a great loss." He stopped, the emotion of this last battle pressing on him, but he swallowed his grief and pressed on. "As soon as we can find a suitable planet, we will land for repairs and rest before we return to Colonel Gantz's command. We must not return this way."
There were nods and murmurs of agreement on the bridge where Raphan stood.
"We must –"
"Captain!" Raphan was interrupted by the urgent voice of the science officer on duty.
"Yes?" Raphan looked up.
"We have found a planet we can land on, Captain,"happiness glowed in the science officer's eyes.
"Let us land then," Raphan declared, "and end this nightmare."
A chorus of affirmations filled the bridge as they changed course for the planet.
"Night comes too soon…" she grumbled as she slashed at the underbrush ahead of her, trying to steer clear of the worst thorns and itch-inducing plants. She had learned the hard way which leaves soothed the skin and which ones did quite the opposite. She grimaced at the memories of those unfortunate encounters.
"Where to sleep tonight?" That was always the question. At least water was abundant in this jungle. Shelter – that is, good shelter, meaning the kind that won't wither or collapse on you during the night – was harder to conjure. Some nights she slept out in the most open area she could find accompanied by a small fire to ward off the night animals that would like to have her as a late dinner.
She was just about to hack through another batch of thorns when the ground beneath her feet began to rumble. She was caught off guard and almost fell, but caught herself on a nearby branch just in time to avoid a nasty bruise.
"Volcanic activity?" She thought puzzled, "That's the last thing I need…" she rolled her eyes.
The rumbling, instead of dying down, got worse, and then an awful, deafening roar obscured every other noise in the jungle. The terrible sound was almost like an argument between a thunderstorm and a waterfall.
Her hands shot to her ears and she pressed against them so tightly that her head began to ache from the pressure.
It did little good. The sound persisted. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the cacophony vanished.
Silence fell again, and the jungle lay quiet in a way that she hadn't heard since she was abandoned here. Not even the chirping of crickets broke the silence.
"What was that?" She asked herself, knowing now that it was no volcano that disturbed the night.
She pushed on ahead towards where the noise stopped. Instead of hacking through the brush, she slipped through any openings she could find, hoping to stay as quiet as possible, just in case whatever it was turned out to be life-threatening.
A couple of minutes later she arrived at one of the few clearings she'd encountered and there, right in the middle of the open space sat a sad wreck – a ship, torn by a worthy enemy.
Her eyes lit up as she realized that it was also a ship that still had the ability to fly.
She waited silently in the jungle, watching the ship, waiting for a way to board it.
The night hours wore on and she began to wonder if there was anyone alive on board or if they hadn't survived long enough to see their own landing.
Then, just when she was about to come out of hiding and investigate, the ramp to the cargo hold descended and twenty people streamed out, set up lights, and began cutting away the damaged portion of the ship's outer hull and replacing it with new plating. They all wore protective suits so she couldn't tell if they were men or women, but by the look of the ship, they came from her world of origin, Gamilon.
Based on the appearance of the ship and the size of the work crew, she figured it would take them several days to be able to finish the work.
That was more than enough time for her to find a way aboard. The more pressing problem was figuring out how to stay on board without getting caught or identified as an intruder. Luckily, she still had a couple of things stowed away from her ship – the one gifted to her and then stolen by the woman who stole away her daughter and left her here to rot. She only hoped she remembered how to use the few tools she had left.
She found a hiding place near the ship to discourage the local wildlife from coming after her. No animals meant no need for a fire. No fire meant she could remain hidden. She watched the work crew intently through the dark hours, observing their routine, trying to determine the best time to make a break for that single opening – the cargo bay ramp.
By the time dawn came, she knew the crew's work pattern. And she knew they wouldn't be handing her an opportunity to sneak aboard. With that in mind, she slipped out of her hiding place and back into the jungle.
She looked around, considering what she might do to distract the crew long enough to get onboard their ship.
Her feet thumped softly on loose dirt.
"Hmm," she perched a finger on her lips as she stared at the upturned soil. "Wild boars?" She smirked as a thought came to her, "Exactly what I need."
The day went by more quickly than she wanted. The sun passed overhead and began to sink into the horizon long before she'd made it back to the ship's landing site. She forged on, hoping to find the work crew out hacking away the damaged hull again tonight.
She came to the edge of the clearing and nearly wept when she saw no one there. It was already well past midnight, closing in on the coming day.
She balled her fists and wanted to curse at the strangers who hadn't seen fit to work tonight.
"Come out!" she screamed at them silently, "Please, come out!" But to no avail. The clearing remained empty for the rest of the night.
She sat, dejected, just inside the jungle wall surrounding the ship. How was she to board the ship if she had no opportunity?
Just before dawn, in the darkness that preceded the light of day, she heard something coming from the ship.
At first she thought the wounded vessel might be trying to leave and panic began to rise in her, but then she realized that they were selectively testing the ship's systems, and judging by the clicking and grinding noises, the ship still needed a good deal of work.
She smirked to herself, "Good."
A bit after dawn, the work crew slowly trudged out of the ship again and started working again, sautering the new pieces together and making the ship airtight again – not a small task considering all the holes the poor vessel had in her.
She looked on, thinking, "I must move soon, else I risk exposing myself; but if I move too soon it will be just as bad." She let her mind wander for a moment to her dear, lost daughter who she was determined to find again. "I cannot wait," she finally decided.
Pulling out a tiny, hand-crafted whistle, she gave the little thing a long blow. After a five-count, she quickly tucked the trinket away and swung up into the nearest tree.
It wasn't half a minute before the sound of hooves began to reverberate around the clearing. The work crew stopped and look about wildly in confusion.
"Let's get out of here!" She heard one man shout before streaking into the ship just before the tusked pigs appeared at the edge of the jungle and trampled through the grass into the clearing, bearing down on the work crew.
The strangers scrambled for higher ground. Some fled to trees or tall rocks. Others were so desperate to get out of the way that they clambered up the lights they set up for night time work.
She watched and waited.
As soon as everyone in the clearing was focused on the boars, she darted out of her hiding place, taking shelter in the nearest patch of tall grass. Her breath came in heavy gasps as her heart pounded with the thought of being able to get off this deserted world. She took another breath and streaked out from the grass. A few seconds later she reached the open ramp and slipped inside.
She hugged the wall, blinking furiously as her eyes adjusted. No one was in the cargo hold. She spied a shipping crate and took refuge behind it so that no one coming up the boarding ramp or in through the entrance would spot her.
She sank to the ground, breathing hard.
"I'm here... Now... to stay here," she peeked out from behind the crate. Still no one in sight. Staying in the shadows, she sneaked from her hiding place to the bay door on the other side of the room. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a shriek when it hissed open for her.
Half a second later, she'd mustered the courage to sneak a look out into the hall. She poked her head out and looked both ways down the long hall outside. No one. She tiptoed out into the hall. Debating which way to go threw her into a panic and she stood paralyzed until she heard footsteps in the cargo hold behind her. She darted down the right hall, moving as fast as she could without stirring up too much noise.
Several minutes later she found herself in the middle of a section of crew quarters. Ever so carefully she crept up to the nearest door and listened. A voice, accompanied by several others echoed through the door. She stepped back and tried the next room. At first she thought it was empty, but as she listened harder she heard the rustling of a sleeper turning over in their bunk.
She shook her head and moved on, chancing a look over her shoulder every few seconds.
Finally she came to a silent room. Thinking she was mistaken, she listened harder than ever at the door, expecting someone to move or say something at any second. She reached out slowly and was about the tap the door controls when fear gripped her. What if whoever lived here came back soon? What would she do?
Just as she pulled her hand away, voices drifted to her through the narrow hall. Gritting her teeth, she pressed her palm against the control panel. She squeezed her eyes shut as the door whisked open and she stepped in, letting it close behind her.
She cracked open one eye, daring to look around the tiny room. No one stared back at her - a relief. She reached back and locked the door.
The room was small. A computer interface glowed on one wall, a cot just behind it. A tiny closet and a small sink for washing, accompanied by a tiny lavatory screened off from the main room completed the accommodations.
The lights were still off, so she picked her way across the room to the computer. Just before she tried to turn it on, she looked down and noticed several holograms floating by the side of the bed. The images were not very crisp – probably old. But there was one that was clearer than the rest. It looked like it might be a family portrait. A middle-aged man stood with his hand on a young woman's shoulder. A woman about the same age as the man stood on the other side of the girl.
Though the picture was rather plain, one thing about it struck her. The young woman in the image sported fire-red hair.
Her eyes widened and she leaned in towards the holo and zoomed in on the strangely-colored hair. She nearly died of relief when she saw evidences of black hair roots starting to show at the base of the girl's red locks.
"Dyed…" she thought, letting out a long breath and fingering her own chestnut hair, "Thank the Shamayim.*"
She turned away from the image and managed to activate the computer. It looked like the previous session was still active - and logged in.
"At least I don't have to hack into anything…" she thought wryly, "After all… that was… my… brother's forte…" she felt odd thinking such a word as "brother."
Just before she was left here on this world she discovered that she had a family – a father and mother, and two younger brothers, but she was denied the opportunity to reveal her true identity to them – an identity she was still learning about. In truth, she didn't really know who she was. Many times during her exile here she wondered, "Who is 'Lady Daratina of Gamilon' anyway? And is there a need for me to become her again?"
The first question she had no real answer to, and the second she had come to realize would never be possible to answer. She could not go back twenty-four years and regain the life that had been ripped away from her. No, she was not now and never would again become "Lady Daratina," princess of Gamilon. She was just "Dara," a former cargo attendant, no more, and no less.
A list started scrolling down the interface screen and Dara's eyes widened when she realized what it was.
"A list of... casualties?" She whispered. Face after anonymous face whisked by. She looked at them all, sorrow in her heart for such loss. "No. No, it can't be..." she choked as the face of the young woman whose picture she stood beside appeared before her. "Computer, stop!" She ordered the thing.
Surprisingly, it obeyed her and halted on the image of the red-haired girl.
Dara read the short bio blip and tears began to well up in her eyes as she realized that the young woman was only eighteen, younger than her own child and not even fully grown. Dara read the girl's name through bleary eyes. All she could think of was her daughter. Constance's hair was similar to this girl's, though longer.
She wiped her eyes and bit her lip. Slowly, she pulled one more item out of her bag. Miraculously, it was still with her, even after her long jungle trek. She pointed the object at the screen and held it there until it gave a soft bleep, then, with shaking hands, she fastened the item just inside her left ear and activated it.
Dara stepped over to the tiny mirror above the sink in the corner. As she looked at the face staring back at her, she realized that this girl's dyed hair was the same color as her own. At least she wouldn't have to dye her hair again, so long as she wore this young woman's face. And she would have no need of disguising her eyes either. The holomask already adjusted her green eyes to the same blue as the image.
"Computer…" Dara began, taking a deep breath to bolster her courage, "delete this record."
"Deletion confirmed," the computer replied from a few feet away.
Dara looked down at the floor, still coming to terms with what she was doing. With a deep breath, she steeled herself, stowed her bag in a small compartment she found under the cot and returned to the computer where she changed the passcode to something she would know and logged out of the session.
With measured steps she went back to the sink and stared at her new face. Her hair was too long. She slipped her knife out of her pocket and grabbed a fistful of hair. As evenly as she could manage, she hacked off several inches and watched as the severed strands floated down into the sink. A quick rinse sent them all down the drain.
She checked the length again. It wasn't perfect, but it was close enough, and only one or two ragged edges glared back at her.
A sudden weariness overtook her and she realized how badly her many aches throbbed for attention. She cast a longing eye back towards the lav, then happily realized that there was no reason she couldn't use it. The mask was waterproof after all.
She discarded her smelly clothes and took a quick shower, scraping off as much dirt and grime as she could manage before the ten minute timer on the water ran out. Dara dried off then poked her head into the closet. She pulled out the first thing she touched. It was a plain uniform - green and black, much like many of the other crew would wear, though she was thankful it wasn't one of those dull brown suits the techs wore.
She slipped into the girl's clothes. They hung loosely on her gaunt frame. She shrugged. A few weeks of decent eating and the uniform would fit her properly. She started towards the door, knowing that she would have to try her best to fit in with the crew. Her only consolation was that this young woman had not been a crew member for long and was unlikely to have many friends on board yet.
Dara unlocked the door to the small room and stepped out.
She was nearly knocked over by another young woman.
"Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't see – Melda! Melda Dietz," the girl looked happy to see Dara – "Melda." "Where have you been? We've been looking for you!"
"Oh…" Dara hesitated, "I… got tossed around a lot during the battle. Ended up in the medical bay for a good while," she offered. "They wouldn't let me see anyone until I recovered."
"Ah," the girl nodded, "Got it. Those doctors think they own this ship."
Dara smiled a little, "Yeah," she said, dropping into what she thought might resemble the speech of someone nearly two decades younger, "they do."
"Well, come on," the other woman beckoned her to follow, "Looks like the repair crew got themselves into a jam outside. We have to chase away some wild pigs before they can get back to work. Wanna come help?"
"Sure," replied the new Melda, a bittersweet feeling welling up inside her as she followed her shipmate out to the chaos she had caused not an hour before.
* nachash of all nachashim – "snake of all snakes"; "the worst snake of them all"
* Eratites – people of Earth
* oniyyah – battleship
* Rakiah Cobel – ship name, "Sailor of the Cosmos"
* chazirim/chazir – wild boar(s)
* Shamayim – "heavens"
Episode 8: Through the Flames
The crowds cheered all around her as Nova Forrester moved with the rest of the processional towards their waiting ship. Argo's launch preparations were not quite complete, but the captain had decided it was worth the risk launching now since the Gamilons knew they had one last battleship the people of Earth could use against them.
Nova's mind wandered to the coming voyage.
"Such a long way… 148,000 light years and back in just one year… I have no idea how we'll ever be able to do it; and with a ship that's older than my grandmother at that…" Nova shook her head, hoping the guy walking next to her didn't notice. "We've got to!" She finally decided. "There's nothing else left. Nothing. This is what we all have to do to see our home live on." Something inside Nova morphed from wavering uncertainty into a concrete truth.
"Nova!"
Her eyes darted around the surrounding crowd, trying to see who called her name.
"Mother?" Nova finally saw the familiar face and hesitated to step out of line to see her, but quick glances ahead of and behind her revealed others stopping to see family or friends before their departure.
She quickly slipped out of the group.
"I didn't think you would be able to make it." Nova looked at both of her parents in surprise, "The hospital let you come, Dad?"
"Pfft!" Mr. Forrester scoffed, "Do you think they could keep me from saying good-bye to my one and only daughter?" Nova's father smiled at her, his tired eyes betraying just how worn out he was from the effects of the radiation poisoning he suffered from. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "They don't even know I'm gone."
"Dad!" Nova exclaimed, mortified, but also hiding a laugh at what her father pulled off. "You have to get back."
"I know, I know," he assured, starting to lean on the cane he'd brought along. "I will. I just… I couldn't miss this."
"Thank you Dad," Nova replied softly and hugged her father.
"Now, Nova," her mother began in her usual didactic tone, "Don't take any unnecessary risks out there; and come back safe, you hear?"
"Yes, Mother," Nova nodded, smiling, "I won't; and I will."
"Okay," Mrs. Forrester bit her lip as tears started to well up in her eyes. "Just – please, please be careful, dear," she sniffled.
"Oh, Mother," Nova hugged the woman tightly. "Don't worry. A year isn't such a long time to be away." She pulled back, "I'll be back before you know it." With a final farewell, she started back towards the ranks of Star Force members.
"Wait!" Mrs. Forrester grabbed her daughter's wrist before she was out of reach. "Take this with you." She handed Nova a tiny pin, and when Nova realized what was in her hand she protested.
"No, no I can't take this, it's –"
"Nova!" Her mother's voice silenced her. "Take it. It will remind you of how much we want you to come back to us."
"Alright." Nova's hand closed on the small object and she looked into her mother's worried eyes. "I'll wear it every day," she smiled, shakily this time, "I promise."
Mrs. Forrester nodded and gestured to the many men and women still walking past, "Go."
Nova gave her parents one final good-bye and stepped back into line, but not without first pinning her mother's tiny, glowing diamond onto her uniform collar.
The stone was from her mother's first engagement ring, the one Nova's biological father gave her mother. Mrs. Forrester would still be wearing the ring if it hadn't been for that first planet bomb that hit their house in Texas all those years ago. Nova and her mother were out shopping that day and her father had taken a day off to see to some repairs that needed doing at the house.
When Nova and her mother returned home, they'd found a smoking crater and the remains of what was once their home.
A year later, still grieving the loss of her husband, Nova's mother met Robert Forrester. The year after that, they were married and Nova assumed the last name of her step-father, though her first father's name – Lucas Tremaine – would never be far from her heart.
The line of crewmen and women had thinned and most of the others who stepped out to say their good-byes had already made it back to the group. Even though she had to wait a bit longer to see the inside of the great ship again, she was glad to be able to see most of her fellow crewmen up ahead. Most of them looked older than her, by at least three or four years – and in some cases, thirty or forty. Not everyone coming on this trip was green - thankfully.
As she came closer to Argo's boarding ramp Nova couldn't help but think, "Just how many of us will come back from this trip?"
"Mark! Mark! Come over here!" the voice of young Jordy Venture beckoned his older brother out of line.
"What are you doing here?" Mark bent down on one knee so that he could be on eye-level with his brother. "They let you out of school?"
"Oh yes," Jordy answered. "Everyone got out of school early today so we could watch you leave." The boy smiled broadly, then his face fell, "I wish you didn't have to go."
"I know, Jordy. I wish I didn't have to go either, but the future of the whole world is in our hands, and we have to do our best to see that you and everyone else is safe here on Earth. That means we have to leave for a while." He paused, then added, "But we'll be back. Don't you worry."
"Yeah, I know," Jordy replied matter-of-factly. "I just wish it didn't have to take so long. A whole year is going to take forever."
At this Mark couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, Jordy, a year'll go by much faster than you think it will."
"If you say so," the boy acquiesced, "but make sure to bring me back something, okay?"
"Okay, Jordy. I'll bring you something from Iscandar."
The boy's face lit up, and he let out a triumphant, "Oh yeah!"
"But until I get back you have to look out for Mom and Dad, okay."
"Okay. I will."
"Speaking of Mom and Dad –" Mark began.
"Jordy! Don't run ahead of us like that," Mrs. Venture called out from the crowd.
"But Mark was gonna miss us if I didn't," the boy protested.
Mark's mother pushed through the sea of people until she and her husband stood with their sons. "Well… just don't do that again," she gently chided the boy who nodded reluctantly before looking back at his big brother.
"Have a good trip," Jordy threw his small arms around Mark's neck and Mark hugged his brother back.
"I will." Mark looked his brother in the eye and said soberly, "Don't let anyone say we're not coming home, Jordy."
The boy looked back with stalwart eyes and nodded in grim determination, "I won't."
Venture gave his brother one last quick hug and stood to bid his parents farewell.
The entire ship was alive with activity as everyone prepared for launch. Crewmen familiarized themselves with their stations and went through all of their pre-launch checklists meticulously before pronouncing their responsibilities complete.
The Argo resonated with everyone's excitement and anxiety.
The underground cities were in dire distress. They'd moved from several dozen feet below the surface to several hundred. Already the radiation was leaking through more of the Earth's crust, and anyone unfortunate enough to come in contact with the smallest piece of it felt its effects. Several hundred thousand people were in treatment for radiation poisoning, and there was not a single person onboard the Argo who didn't know someone suffering the poison's ill effects.
Radiation in small proportions was not uncommon before the bombardment, and was easily tolerated by the human body, but the radiation they were plagued with now was more plentiful and of a more concentrated sort than what they were used to. As a result, mankind was forced to either try to shield themselves from the falling bombs, or hide beneath the earth.
Only one nation was successful in protecting itself - because of its technical innovation and small size. The Israeli Union forged a shield that was even now holding back the dreaded radiation, but that shield was slowly shrinking. Now, it could only protect the capitol of Jerusalem, and some of the smaller surrounding cities. Many fled there seeking refuge, but it was only a matter of time before the shield failed.
The crewmen and women of the Argo hailed from all over the globe, a mix of nations, cultures, religions, and languages, all united by the singular goal of bringing home a cure that might save everyone they held dear from death.
It was with these heavy thoughts that every member of the crew went about their duties. They pressed on, pushed forward by the knowledge that their home needed them.
When the alarms began to ring an hour before the ship was set to launch, they set aside their fear and took up their courage.
"Captain! A message from the EDF," communications officer Homer Glitchman announced. "Gamilon missile are headed our way, bigger than we've ever seen. ETA is ten minutes."
Captain Avatar didn't say a word for several painful seconds. He surveyed the bridge, then to Homer he said, "Thank you." The old man stood up behind his station and addressed his officers,"Crew of the Argo." He stopped. These faces - the faces of men and women much too young to be officers - belonged to the ones he was about to embark on this journey with. He hoped he would see them all at the end of the journey. "Man your battle stations and prepare to launch!"
"But Captain, we're not ready –" one of the crewmen, Christopher Eager by name, started to protest but was cut short by the captain's steely, determined gaze.
Avatar continued, "We launch now, or we don't launch at all."
The bridge filled with solemn knowing. To hold off the launch would likely doom them never to launch at all.
Men and women flew around the ship working as fast as they could. The most important task of their young lives lay at their feet – getting this ship off the ground in less than ten minutes time.
Nova's mind, previously clouded with thoughts of leaving her mother and ailing step-father alone, now focused entirely on doing her part to make sure they all made it through the next eleven minutes alive.
As she worked she prayed.
"They've finally found us…" she couldn't help but give an involuntary shudder at the thought. The ones who tried to slaughter them all now knew precisely where they were and that the Argo would move soon. "Help us to do this right, Father. Because if we don't…" Nova stopped for just an instant, frozen by the idea of their failure. Then, in her disquiet, she remembered what the captain said at the christening ceremony, "But You have promised that the earth shall remain until the end of the world comes. And this is not how the end of the world is prophesied to be. So I can only think that we will make it through this." A smile spread across her face involuntarily. "Yes…" she thought, "Yes, Father, I believe we will make it, perhaps by the skin of our last few teeth, but we will make it."
With a new confidence, she dove back into her work, her fear melting slowly away.
"These people are all crazy," thought Mark as he prepped his station for launch. As the chief navigator he had to make sure his timing was perfect in the upcoming launch, or else he could end up blowing them all to tiny pieces before they got a chance to leave the atmosphere.
The global power network charging up Argo's engines for the first time was at its limit. It had run so hard for so long that it would fail within a few hours, so their launch, though early, was well-timed.
The network was receiving energy from every country that would lend it to them: the American Union, Canadian States, Central American Territories, European Union, Russia, China, the Arab States, Israeli Union, African Alliance, even what remained of southern Asia and Australia were sending everything they could spare.
Even though there were so many supporters of this effort, there remained dissenters, those who felt the journey to Iscandar was a useless endeavor - that Earth was doomed anyway. Some had gone so far as to commit acts of sabotage against the effort, destroying power relays in several countries, making organized strikes against the stations. It was so bad in some places that the stations were forced to post armed guards to stop the attacks.
One of the areas most effected by the terrorism was Tokyo, Japan, where Mark and his family lived for the past several years.
"Why would you want to try to stop this ship from taking off if there were even the barest hint of a hope for us all?" Mark shook his head in disgust, "What I wouldn't give to make sure that Jordy and my parents could live on Earth as they should, on the surface - not staring up at dirt and metal…"
Derek stared at his station for just a moment, the reality of where he was and what he was about to do finally sinking in.
"I'm here," he let out a long breath. The excitement trapped inside him was still building despite the coming danger. He knew he might be plastered into a puddle in a few minutes, but that didn't move him. Feeling the form of the chair, the controls under the guidance of his hands, seeing the dark viewport in front of him, the very one that he knew would soon display the surface of his home. These things moved him.
"I'm really here," he gritted his teeth and thought. "Just you try to shoot us down!" His mind echoed in defiance towards their absent enemies. "Try it and we'll show you what we really are."
"ETA eight minutes on those missiles," Homer's voice broke into Wildstar's thoughts.
"Eight minutes," Derek thought over and over as he checked and rechecked everything on his list. When he was done, he sat silently tapping his fingers on his armrest as all of his pent-up energy sent his heart hammering inside his chest.
After what seemed an eternity the captain announced, "Begin the launch countdown at two minutes."
A chorus of "Yes, sir"s went up and the mechanical voice of the ship's computer began counting down from one hundred and twenty agonizing seconds.
At one hundred seconds to go the captain ordered, "Disconnect the power network."
"Aye, sir," Orion replied. "It's been disconnected, Captain. Energy output for the engine is starting to rise." At ninety seconds the announcement, "Energy output at twelve percent," came to everyone's chagrin.
There was silence on the bridge. One small voice finally dared to speak, "At this rate we'll never be ready in time."
Avatar replied with a firm, "Be quiet."
From that instant onward the only sound anyone heard on the bridge was the ominous hum of energy building in the newly dubbed "Wave Motion Engine."
"Twenty percent." Orion announced, glancing nervously at the countdown to the missiles' arrival. Only four minutes remained.
"Let's just go now," Venture suddenly exclaimed, his anxiety finally getting the better of him. "We can make it –"
"No," Avatar replied, his gaze boring into Mark's. Venture instantly regretted his moment of weakness as the captain continued, "If we took off now our engine would sputter and die, and so would we."
"Thirty percent," Orion said, abruptly halting the confrontation. All eyes were glued to the chief engineer as he stared at the power indicator, beads of sweat running down his face into his white beard.
Thirty seconds remained, and still the power level sat stubbornly at seventy percent.
The tension on the bridge thickened to suffocating levels. Only three seemed unshaken by the engines slow start: the Captain, Nova Forrester, and the curious science officer, Stephen Sandor who sat on the far right of the bridge, staring intently at his own stations' readouts.
Mark felt like he would explode if he didn't do something.
They were down to fifteen seconds.
Mark reached out to lay a hand on his controls when Orion's voice burst through the room, "Engine output at ninety, no one hundred percent!"
"Venture, take off!" the Captain ordered.
"Yes, sir!" Mark exclaimed and with shaking hands pushed the ship into its first upward thrust.
The ground rumbled and shook as the great ship ascended from the poisoned ground, leaving in its wake a hole in the earth where it lay dormant for over two hundred years. It didn't take them long to reach the lower atmosphere.
"Enemy missiles at two hundred thousand mega-meters and closing," Nova announced, watching the deadly blips move closer and closer on her radar screen.
"Wildstar, prepare the forward gun turrets to fire," Avatar ordered.
"Yes, Captain," Derek replied, itching to shoot something now that he knew he wasn't going to die on the ground.
Derek relayed orders to the men manning the turrets. Within ten seconds the main guns pointed squarely into the path of the oncoming missiles.
"One hundred eighty thousand mega-meters," Nova reported.
"Fire on my mark," Avatar said, leaning forward, bracing himself on his console.
Derek gave a sharp nod, ready to let the enemy have his best shot.
They waited.
And waited.
They could see the outer shell of the first incoming missile with their naked eyes. It was bearing down on them, coming so fast it looked like a humongous train was bearing down on them.
"Now!" Avatar ordered. "Fire!"
"All guns, fire!" Derek relayed.
Strands of brilliant light streaked through the atmosphere towards the first missile, striking it head-on. Then the rest of the swarm descended on them.
"Argo! Respond!" General Stone, Commander Singleton's aide shouted into the comm unit until he was red in the face. "Why don't they reply?" the General asked Singleton angrily. "Are they dead? We shouldn't have sent them. We –"
"Quiet, General," Singleton ordered. "Have a little faith in the abilities of Captain Avatar. And be patient."
Stone glared at the communicator, looking like he might kick it.
"Come on, Argo," thought Singleton, "Prove me right."
An image sputtered to life in the middle of the throne room in the Palace on Iscandar.
Starsha leapt up from her seat and ran to it.
The Eratites managed to use the Iscandarium core to finish charging their new engine. When the energy from their world proved insufficient, the core took up the slack and provided them with the rest of what they needed.
The images that met the young queen's eyes were intense. The ship was being assaulted by gigantic missiles - of Gamilon craftsmanship. The first missile closed in. A second later, it was cut down by the ship's guns.
Starsha's eyes brightened as she saw the bravery of this group of Eratites whom she hoped to meet soon. Then she saw the host of missiles that followed behind the first one and she gasped.
Every head in the EDF headquarters was fixed on the screen displaying the location of the Argo. The tiny blip blinked steadily, then disappeared. The whole staff was about to despair when that same blip suddenly reappeared, beyond the Earth's atmosphere.
"EDF Headquarters, this is the Argo," the voice of Homer Glitchman rang through the radio clearly. "All enemy missiles have been destroyed. I repeat, all enemy missiles have been destroyed."
A great cheer rose all through the room and traveled through the entire building.
Over the next several hours, the whole world rejoiced as news of the ship's successful departure spread around the globe.