ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE

STAR BLAZERS---A STRANGE INTERLUDE…

Being the fifth part of THE NEW COMET--- BY: Frederick P. Kopetz

This Act is being completed with the Cooperation and Assistance of Derek A.C. Wakefield (as usual)---Freddo

ACT EIGHT: A WINTER OF DISCONTENT

I. DEPARTURES

Deep Space

Ten Thousand Lightyears away from

The Melezart System

Monday, October 20, 2206

1000 Hours: Earthtime

The battered remnants of the Gamilon, Rikashan, and Earth fleets warped away from the Melezart System about a day after making repairs and burying their dead in space.

The ships had warped together until they were sure they were out of the vicinity of Melezart, which they estimated would remain a molten mass for at least several weeks to months. It was now a dead planet, so it didn’t matter much.

Finally, Desslok was set to leave. He hadn’t spoken to Commodore Wildstar for several days…until now.

Both men faced each other across space…they were standing on the decks of the Argo and the Farushar. Desslok was protected under his ship’s shield, and went unhelmeted, while Wildstar wore a spacesuit set. They were both very subdued.

“Desslok,” said Commodore Wildstar. “Where are you going, now?”

“Back to Gamilon. We have much that we must rebuild. We have much to consider again. This battle cost us both very much, Wildstar. I must leave now because life support in many of my ships was damaged in the battle, and our time is limited without shipyard work. That includes my own carrier. I have left a liasion officer aboard the Westphalia to speak with your Commander.”

Derek nodded his helmeted head and went quiet.

“Wildstar…I am so sorry about what happened on that planet. Nova was very brave and kind…her actions took me by surprise. I never expected she could make such a sacrifice for me. She is a very dear friend. How is she?”

“Her life was, and is, in danger, Desslok. She is currently…in cryogenic freeze until we can return to Earth to have her treated and operated on.”

“I…see,” said Desslok quietly. “You know that I tried to save her…with the help of your young pilot, Wakefield. That man should be recognized, Wildstar.”

“He will be…Desslok.”

“I will be in touch. When we rebuild our forces, that evil has to be both defeated and eradicated. I cannot tolerate Invidia’s further existence in the universe. It is a curse to me to know that she has lived. I swear that I will not rest, Wildstar, until we are avenged.”

“Thank you, Desslok…”

Desslok raised his hand. “Farewell, Commodore Wildstar. We will meet again…soon…” Then, with a snap of his cape, he turned and went into his ship.

Wildstar saluted and held the salute until what remained of the Gamilon-Garuman fleet pulled away and then executed a space warp as they headed for home.

“Farewell, Desslok. Good sailing,” said Derek as he blinked back tears.

On the Westphalia, two hours later, Wildstar sat at a table with Captain Venture, Commanding General Singleton, Lord Anton Cha’rif, and General Veyzor, the bald liasion officer Desslok had sent over from his Fleet.

“You can’t be serious,” said the Commander as he looked at Cha’rif.

“I am,” said the Rikashan lord. “Ekogaru was there during the fracas in the Great Hall of the People.”

“But he’s dead!” said Derek.

“If he is, he makes a very healthy spectre,” snapped Cha’rif. “I did battle with him myself, Derek Wildstar. I have no idea how, but the man lives.”

“How did you see him?” said Venture.

“He came in a different guise than we are used to,” said Cha’rif as a strange image of a pyramid in the jungle somewhere and a spectral form rising from a Sphere came to Derek Wildstar’s mind. He had no idea what that particular vision, one of many visions that went through his head in the next minute or so, meant. “Yet, the man lives.”

“Was he embodied?” said the Commander.

“He was linked to the body of some person there in that hall,” said Cha’rif. “Which body and which person, I know not. I didn’t have time to probe more deeply as I had to fight for my phsyical and psychic life against him. But he lives.”

“Some weird memory is coming to my mind,” said Derek, as if half in a dream. “El Tigre. A pyramid. Ekogaru rising. A race team called Go Team. The Doctor.”

“The Doctor?” said General Singleton. “Doctor? Doctor Who?”

Then, they heard a commotion outside. “No!” yelled a Marine guard. “I have no idea who you are! There is a Command Meeting taking place in that compartment! I have no idea where you and that blue phone booth came from, but…”

The door whizzed open, to reveal a strange scene.

A Space Marine with his blaster rifle raised was snapping at a tall man with tousled dark brown hair and horn-rimmed glasses on a deceptively young-looking face. He wore a wrinkled brown pinstriped suit, rumpled fawn-looking topcoat, and white sneakers.

“It’s not a phone booth,” snapped the newcomer in a peeved British accent. “It’s called a TARDIS! And this certificate indicates I have a perfect right to see your Commanding General! And now! This certificate is my warrant from Torchwood Unit Six!” he snapped as he held up a black folder. It was a plain folder, but the Doctor now had a new power, thanks to a link with his TARDIS, that could make an observer believe they were seeing any sort of document, pass or license in any alien langauage the Doctor wished the viewer to see it in. The Time Lord found this very useful for getting into places he would not have otherwise been admitted to.

“Uhhmm…who are you?” said Singleton.

The man turned about, walked up, and pumped Singleton’s hand. “I’m the Doctor, of course. You mean you’ve never heard of me? You must not get out very much, sir!”

“You’re not the Doctor!” snapped Derek. “He’s a man with curly hair and a twelve-meter long goofy scarf, or does he have white hair and a cape?”

“Those were earlier incarnations of me,” said the Doctor.

“Ah…the man with Ten Faces,” said Cha’rif.

“Ten Faces?” said a thoroughly confused Venture.

“Yes,” replied Cha’rif. “He has ten faces because he is of a race that can regenerate their bodies and change their outward appearances and personality in that rejuvenation. This man has regenerated nine times, and thus, he has Ten Faces,” said Cha’rif. “He is hundreds, perhaps thousands of years old. Doctor. We meet at last. I thought you were a legend. Do you not always show up on the Wings of Death?”

“Bad wolf,” smiled the Doctor as he nodded at Cha’rif. “Let’s see. You’ve got the Time War, you’ve got Cybermen, you’ve got the bloody Daleks,” said the Doctor as he waved his hands around as if he had ingested twelve cups of coffee, “And…you’ve got…Ekogaru. Ekogaru. Nasty stuff. Bad juju, And he’s the reason I’m here.”

“He’s..the reason you are here?” said the Commander.

“I would have sent Melvin but he’s on a three-day drunk somewhere in a gutter on Gamma Vega Twelve. Nasty skid row there; the old goon loves it.”

“Your people died in the Time War,” said Cha’rif baldly. “Time War. Legend of ours. But, apparently, on this ship, legends walk in from out of the bulkheads. But he is authentic. No one else has two heartbeats I can pick up.”

“Not him. And he’s not entirely one of my people,” said the Doctor.

“So, why are you here, Doctor?” asked Veyzor of Gamilon. “We look askance upon you every time you enter the Empire. You are a busy-body, a troublemaker, and a weirdo. You also insulted Leader Desslok once.”

“Come now, I rather thought that picture of Desslok would look better with a moustache on it! I am here to tell you Ekogaru’s not dead,” said the Doctor. “Wildstar, years ago, you and Nova met one of my earlier incarnations in the late twentieth century to stop a plot by the R’Khells to destroy Earth by ruining it in the past. You worked with some race car drivers and agents of Interpol to stop this invasion. You may not remember it. I believe the memories were deliberately suppressed. In this invasion, one of my people, known as The Master, went mad and found a Sphere that held Ekogaru’s essence. He almost took over Earth and the universe with it, but the Sphere passed through a time warp to your time. It has been found, and Ekogaru has been exerting his influence through someone else whom he has possessed.”

“Do you know who it is?” sighed Cha’rif.

“No. That’s….the bad part,” sighed the Doctor. “But I sense he is aboard this ship.”

“A search might be in order?” asked Venture.

The Doctor nodded. “But do not have it performed by myself or by Lord Cha’rif. Have it performed by a member of your Fleet who is psi-capable…”

“Aliscea Rosstowski,” said The Commander.

“Bingo!” said the Doctor. “Have her brought here, and I will brief her before I leave.”

“You must leave already?” said Veyzor.

“I must be running soon. Trouble on Beta Sigma Twelve, and Rose is getting cooped up back in my TARDIS.”

“Who’s Rose?” said Venture.

“Travelling companion,” said the Doctor as he ran his sonic screwdriver over a suspicious Veyzor for a moment. “Bad filling in your tooth, General. I was just adjusting it. No charge for my services…this time.”

Half an hour later, Aliscea, having been briefed by the Doctor, sat in meditation, preparing to probe for Ekogaru’s presence while Singleton and Captain Walsh mustered the entire crew of the Westphalia in the fleet cruiser’s main messhall. It was rather crowded. Walsh walked up and down the ranks with Wildstar and the Commander as he barked, “It has come to our attention that some crew members have forbidden contraband aboard this vessel! We are performing a search of your persons and personal effects in order to ferret out whoever has these items so that they can be properly punished! We will not tolerate illegal drugs, hidden hard liquor, or other contraband in this command! Is that clear?”

“YESSIR!” yelled the crew while, at the back of the ranks, Stovall began to sweat.

“We’ll be found,” he muttered. “They’ll find you, and then, it’s all over for us, when they put me against the wall and shoot…”

“Patience,” said Ekogaru in his mind. “Have I not prepared for this possibility? I will leave you and I can temporarily take the Sphere with me into subspace for a short time. I will return to you later,” he whispered in Stovall’s mind.

“Lordship, I…” muttered Stovall.

“Hey, Marine, what are you mumbling about?” barked another Space Marine next to him. “You wacko in the head, Stovall?”

“Nothing,” he said as he put his hands in his pockets. He touched the Sphere just as it, and the presence of the Dark Lord, temporarily faded away. He smiled, looking as innocent as a lamb as the search party gradually came up to him.

Finally, Aliscea herself stood before him. “Well, Corporal. What are we grinning about?”

“It’s a good day, ma’am. Great day to be alive in the Fleet.”

“I don’t trust you,” she whispered. “I must probe your mind…”

“What?”

“I sense something,” whispered Aliscea as she put her hand on Stovall’s forehead. “A presence I have not sensed since…”

Stovall breathed hard and sweated and trembled as he felt Aliscea rutting through his mind. Wildstar looked on and said, “Aliscea?”

“Something odd here,” she said. “Commander…?”

“Mrs Rosstowski?” said Singleton.

Aliscea broke the contact slowly, looking very disappointed. “Nothing here, after all…” she said slowly. “Nothing but deep psionic B.O. and everyday, garden-variety human evil in deep measure…” Then, she pulled back from Stovall and slapped him across the face. “AND HOW DARE YOU THINK THAT ABOUT ME?” she snapped. “I AM A MARRIED WOMAN, YOU PERVERT!”

“You’re right pretty, ma’am!” said Stovall.

“Stow it, Corporal!” snapped Commanding General Singleton. “One more crack like that and you’ll be on report! Check the next man, Aliscea.”

“Aye, sir,” said Aliscea as she looked daggers at Stovall before going on.

TWO HOURS LATER…

The Doctor left a short time later. In the meantime, the crew of the Westphalia also endured a complete shakedown, having their cabins ransacked and spaces gone through with a fine-toothed comb. Walsh had the crew mustered together again before a small pile of illegal pornographic magazines, a few unlicensed bottles of beer and home-brewed booze, (Earth troops and space sailors were only given an alcohol ration on very rare occassions) and other such minor contraband, as he yelled, “You people sicken me. Aliscea has gotten names. Banks, Conwell, Harrison, Miyama, Rogers, Courtney, and Stovall! You are Combat Group people, Mechanical Group people, and Marines! The seven of you will be standing Mast before me later today, and be assured I will find extra duties to keep you men busy! As for the rest of you, you are dismissed! Back to your posts and carry on, men and women! DISMISSED!”

With a lot of grumbling, the crew of the Westphalia went back to work. Aliscea shook her head as she said, “We didn’t find him, men…not this time.”

“The old legends about Ekogaru state he had many strange powers when he was alive…powers far beyond that of a normal R’jhkarraz psionic of our culture,” said Cha’rif as the leader and Rikashan mystic played with his long brown hair. “We will be on the watch for him. We even have agents in the R’Khell Union who shall be on the watch now. And, someday, I will defeat that rebel band of our people and reunite our Federation. Until then, we have much to fear from those fanatics who still believe Ekogaru is, or was, some kind of god.”

“How long will your fleet remain with us, Cha’rif?” said the Commander.

“For three days, until we reach the edge of our galaxy. Then, we must part ways, for now. Be assured that Rikasha remains faithful to the Alliance despite our many losses.”

“As does Gamilon,” said Veyzor. “We feel shame that we could not escort you home, but…”

“That is all right,” said Singleton. “We understand the reports that Desslok and Talan sent about the damage in their fleet. In a sense, you lost the most in that battle at Melezart.”

“No,” hissed Veyzor. “The Cometines lost more than we did. And we were so close to destroying them, too. If only that proton missile hadn’t merely grazed the Eritz Gatlantis rather than hitting her point-blank…”

“Still, we did stop their progress,” said Singleton.

“For only a while,” said Wildstar. “They’ll be back….if Invidia is still alive, that is.”

II. INVIDIA’S DISGRACE

Cometine Space

The Vicinity of Planet Petronia

Thursday, October 23, 2206

1715 Hours: Earthtime

In spite of Ekogaru’s dark “resurrection” of her, Princess Invidia’s realm was still, in effect, limited to a hospital room in the badly damaged Eritz Gatlantis.

The doctors and nurses handled her very gingerly and said as little as possible—especially since Invidia had sucessfully ordered the execution of every doctor and nurse who had worked on her as she lay dying many days ago in the battle. Some of their severed heads were posted on poles around various parts of the city-ship.

Invidia had also had three thousand officers and men executed in what she called a “purge” in order to root out those whom she felt were disloyal, in order to make examples of them and to bind the rest of the House together in loyalty to her out of fear.

However, fear did not automatically guarantee obedience.

Dyre and Gorse came in together to visit Invidia as she lay in her bed of pain.

“How goes the war?” she hissed as her generals came in.

“Right now, it is not going anywhere, save from some small attacks we have started again at our former worlds at Sirius and Procyon,” said Dyre. “We are getting back into a position to harry the Earthlings again. Soon, we will start afresh with the Gamilons.”

“How many ships have we left in the Fleet?” yelled Invidia.

“Two hundred with us,” said Gorse. “Others are being levied from our base worlds. We are cutting back on defenses, Princess, per your orders in order to build up decent patrol and offensive forces.”

“What about the shipyards?” she snapped.

“We are in the process of capturing and training more slaves and forcing the slaves we have to build planes and new warships more quickly,” said Gorse. “At most, we may have fifty or sixty new ships of the line ready for trials by the end of this Imperial Year.”

“Not good,” snapped Invidia. “Make them work harder!”

“We have been using the stick, so long, Princess, that it is starting to lose its utility,” said Dyre. “We are facing strikes and work stoppages on two worlds because the slaves want more rations.”

“Well, kill some of them!” raged Invidia. “Make examples of them! When has the Comet Empire ever treated people with kindness? Enough coddling! Make them like children under the whip, not like babies at the mother’s damned breast! We have to win this war! And I still want Desslok tortured to death! How dare he say he rules over US?”

“He commands loyalty,” said Dyre in a nervous tone. “Why, Intelligence even says that Desslok is convincing his allies to begin building ships for him and his Alliance.”

“Who? Where?” hissed Invidia.

“It is some plan they have called ‘Neo-Lend-Lease’ in Terran,” said Dyre. “Members of their Alliance are beginning to construct vessels for their fleets. The Gamilons have begun to build Iscandarian Corvettes and Rikashan destroyers under license on their production lines with excess capacity from the newest worlds Desslok has conquered, while the Rikashans are building destroyers for the Gamilons and gunboats for the Earthlings. And, the Earthlings, it is said, are about to open a production line building dive bombers for the Gamilons. Our agents on Terra are trying to find it so we can sabotage it.”

Invidia snarled as Dyre said, “It is true. They are working together to begin building an Empire to challenge us and the R’Khells. It would seem our latest attacks have only stiffened their resolve to fight.”

“Yes,” said Gorse. “That is why we need to win this war, and soon…”

“Gorse, I must say that I agree with you,” said Invidia. “If we do not win this war by the end of the next Imperial Year, it may be too late.”

In the meantime, deep in the Eritz Gatlantis, Vila communicated with Radnar from a barely-used communications room in the bowels of the ship.

“So it is that bad?” said Radnar.

“Yes. Invidia is showing herself to be a thorough atheist. A hundred priests were slaughtered in the past few days alone in part of her purge. It is only by acting innocuous that I have managed to escape death, sir.”

“Still I appreciated the report you sent yesterday. And you uploaded a holo-clip today?”

“Yes. A declaration of Zordar’s you may find useful…we…”

“We have it already. In fact, I have seen to it that it was transmitted to Imperial Center on Great Andromeda and archived in the Hall of Genalogies. I put a notice in with the message calling for an Inquest on Princess Invidia’s future rule.”

“An Inquest?” said Vila. “You think that will work?”

“It may. I have heard rumor that the Throne may be asking for an Inquest on the war itself. I know that they are not happy with how it is proceeding, and you know Invidia has been ordered to stop. The Empire’s loss at Melezart has begun to convince people, I am told, that Invidia may be a threat to our future rule of the universe rather than a help to it. I will find out what happens when I reach Imperial Center in fifteen days. Try not to report again until then. I need your intelligence, Vila.”

“Of course.”

In the meantime, Dyre and Gorse were called to their own audience with the holographic image of the Grand Emperor later that day on the Eritz Gatlantis. They were not looking forward to this.

“Over three months ago,” boomed the voice of the mysterious Grand Emperor to a kneeling Dyre and Gorse while the eerie glowing red eyes leered at them from out of the darkness. “I believe I ordered you and Invidia to negotiate an Armistice with the enemy in the Southern Territories to grant you and Us Time to ensure our conquests in the Southern Regions did not slip from Our Grasp and to ensure us ease in a future strike south.”

“We negotiated, Sire,” said Dyre as he sweated. “But, sir, the enemy did not negotiate in good faith. They attacked us at the very table of negotiations. They…”

“Silence. I did not look much upon the typical propaganda video you edited to make them look like the barbarians. I had sources in your House who are true patriots to the Throne and our glorious cause who have sent me raw video of what truly happened. I am convinced you are lying, and that you caused the disaster at Melezart yourselves. In fact, I begin to become convinced our enemies have more honor than you led me to believe.”

“Sir, we stand up against those charges!” snapped Gorse as he stood. “I would plead against them in appeal before your face!”

“Did I give you leave to get up?” roared the Grand Emperor.

“NO, but…”

“THEN DOWN ON YOUR FACE!” roared the Emperor. “You will have a chance, Gorse, to speak before me. In person. I command you to bring a Fleet to Imperial Center. Get to the Homeworld in fifteen days! Then, we shall have an Inquest that shall cover many, many topics. I order you to come before me because I trust it that Invidia is still unable to make a long journey on a standard warship?”

“She is, sire,” said Dyre.

“Then, I will grant her time to recover,” said the Grand Emperor as he narrowed his red eyes. “By the time she is recovered, Gorse, I will send you back to the Eritz Gatlantis with the results of the Inquest. You will then have time to take action, before…”

“Before what?” snapped Dyre.

“Before events tumble out of your control,” hissed the Grand Emperor as he slowly faded from view. “Remember, Dyre, Our Patience is not infinite…and remember, Prince Fallen of House Kolog has a long feud with House Gatlantis that goes back to the days when Zordar’s grandsire still ruled, when you were young. I pray we do not have to remind old Prince Fallen of his dislike of your clan. He is insulted enough already ever since Invidia dared to plead with him for troops and ships. I hope that he does not grow further insulted with your House and how you stood in his way with his own plan for a Strike South…”

At that, the Grand Emperor faded away.

“Prince Fallen is an old enemy,” said Gorse. “Almost as fanatical and vicious as his friend Radnar.”

“One reason Zordar exiled Radnar was that he suspected that Radnar and Fallen were plotting some kind of game at long distance,” said Dyre. “House Kolog is one of the oldest and most respected Houses. It was second only to us in the glory and esteem of the Imperial House. I don’t like the idea that the Emperor might be turning him against us…”

“If that is so,” said Gorse. “None of our heads are safe.”

 

“No,” said the Grand Emperor as Savela brought him a drink. “Their heads are not safe.”

 

“Lord?”

 

“We accepted Radnar’s request for an Inquest on Invidia’s future rule because of what happened at Melezart. The glorious Empire took a great loss from the Alliance because Invidia had to tweak their noses and insult them at the very edge of our space. If Invidia’s madness is not stopped, and if Desslok and the Earthlings break deeper into our Imperial space, other Houses might be in danger. Zordar had a fine idea when he decided to conquer Earth…but his desire to conquer them has awakened a sleeping giant. We never knew they and Gamilon could be so powerful.”

 

“Are we giving up with them? Letting them insult us?”

 

“No, trying to stop this. If we stop Invidia, and if we can lull our enemies to sleep….you know we can attack again someday at a more opportune time. And if this mad declaration of Zordar’s ever comes true and we have Desslok in our pocket…so goes the rest of the Alliance. A victory, perhaps, without risking more equipment and personnel who are hard to replace.”

 

“And then?”

 

“Then, our will can be exerted, and we can draw them, slowly, so slowly, into our net. But Invidia must be stopped first. Somehow. She is far too dangerous to Us to be allowed to live.”

 

III. NEW ATTACKS

The Earth Fleet

The Edge of the Milky Way Galaxy

Friday, October 24, 2206

1100 Hours: Earthtime

Commanding General Hiram Singleton was sitting in the communications room on the Westphalia, listening to a communication from President Mendellsohn.

 

“Parliament just finished debate on the no-confidence vote today,” he said. “The final vote just came down. Kopechne has been voted out; he leaves office as Prime Minister on the 31st. I have already met with the new Prime Minister they appointed and I have asked him to form a new government.”

 

“And they appointed…?”

 

“Hiram, they appointed Doctor Gonjin as the new Prime Minister, as we expected. However, we are slowly releasing news of the Battle of Melezart to the public. It is possible that I might just survive re-election because of the valor of both of our Star Force units.”

 

“Second Fleet fought hard, too,” said Singleton as he gritted his teeth. “They took many losses. I am bringing them back decimated, sir.”

 

“We have also received word that the Wars of Unification have started again,” said the President.

 

“What?” snapped Singleton.

 

The Commander sat in angry disbelief as the President told him about the Josiahites, the destruction of cities in China and Burma with nuclear devices, and the many refugees from the new war.

 

Finally, Singleton took a deep breath and said, “How did they get their hands on atomic weapons?”

 

“We are still trying to find out. Stone has units working on…”

 

“Damn Stone,” snapped Singleton. “I’ve been away too long. I need to get home ASAP. We need to find their units and bases and attack them from orbit. I may have to assume personal command of the attack fleet.”

 

“Just like the Battle of Lake Victoria?” said the President.

 

“Yes,” sighed Singleton.

 

“Also, there is other bad news. Our patrol fleets at Sirius and Procyon have been attacked again in the past day. It is the Comet Empire…striking back.”

 

Singleton took a deep breath. “The Argo and the Arizona will be dispatched there to help fill the gap until their deployments are up. By then, we should have ships from the newest building program ready to send out there to take their place…”

 

“That is, if I am even re-elected, General. The opposition candidates have been talking about changes at the top in the Defense Council and the EDF.”

 

The Commander sighed. “I’ve been thinking about that, sir. I don’t like the idea of being relieved in the middle of a war…”

 

“Yet, who knows what the new people at the top might do…if I lose?”

“Yes, who knows?”

 

 

Later on, Singleton sat on the bridge of the Westphalia at a vacant position with his eyes closed and his mind deep in thought as he thought hard, and remembered a time when he had been in actual command of a space warship…dark times…times when he had been younger…much younger, and war had raged again on Earth….

THE PAST…

THE BRIDGE OF SPACE BATTLESHIP 105

(The Wilmington)

Friday, July 16, 2179….

 

Captain Hiram Singleton had been twenty-eight years old in this battle, along with his old Academy classmate and First Officer, Lieutenant Commander Abraham Avatar, who was at Weapons Control in his helmet and United Nations Space Defense Forces uniform. Avatar, at this time, was just beginning to grow his famous beard, which was black in those days. Another Academy classmate, a JAG officer named Lieutenant Karl Forrester, had been called up and was serving as Communications Officer and translator on this new space battleship. Singleton and Avatar were both twenty-eight, while Forrester was just twenty-seven.

 

From engineering, the ship’s thirty-six year old engineer, Lieutenant Commander Patrick J. Orion, said, “Captain, the reactor is functioning well. Fusion power is up to the max of what I can give ‘ye.”

 

“Good job, Orion,” said Singleton as the Wilmington cruised on.

 

“Report indicates no alien vessels,” said Lieutenant Daniel Parker, the ship’s radar officer, after he adjusted his helmet.

 

“Good. We don’t need trouble from those Gamilons out at the edge of the solar system today,” said Captain Singleton. “We’re having enough trouble from our own race from those rebel Tanzanians. Radar! Distance to that enemy base we will be bombarding from orbit!”

 

“Altitude, two hundred kilometers, actual distance, five hundred kilometers as the crow flies,” said Parker. “Our other two battleships and ten missile ships are behind us.”

 

“Helm, hold course,” said Singleton as the bridge lights dimmed and a few blinking lights lit up his navy blue peacoat while he adjusted his naval cap.

 

“Helm steady as she goes, aye, sir,” said Lieutenant Hiroshi Ooka, the ship’s Navigation officer.

 

“Message detected from the enemy!” said Forrester.

 

“Translate it,” snapped Avatar in his rough voice.

 

“Working on AI translation now; it is in Tanazaian,” said Forrester as he stroked his mustache. “It says the following: Totalitarian servants of the running dogs of the West! How dare you descend from orbit to crush those of us who are poor native indigenous peoples? Even if you win today, we swear that, someday, someday soon, we shall have our vengeance on you capitalists and your masters of the bourgeosie. Signed, Praxis the First, Chief Commissar of the Revolution! What do we send back, sir?”

 

“Tell them they’re idiots,” snapped Singleton.

 

“Sir?” said Forrester.

 

“I said, IDIOTS!” barked back Singleton.

 

I like that, thought Avatar as he smiled to himself. I’ll have to remember that someday, sir. Damn these neo-Communists. This is the worst they’ve ever been.

 

A moment later, while Forrester sent their response, Parker yelled, “Missiles approaching! Range, four hundred kilometers, speed, twelve space knots….impact in twenty seconds…”

 

“Fleet, take evasive action!” barked Singleton. “Then, bombard location missiles launched from!”

 

The missiles sped in, impacting upon and blowing up the missile ships Samurai and Mau Mau. The other missile ships retaliated, firing missiles towards the Separatist base in Nansio in Tanzania to which the missiles had been traced to.

 

A moment later, as the fleet cruised in over Lake Victoria as Bukoba disappeared beneath the fleet, enemy fighters roared up.

 

“Launch planes!” barked Singleton. “They have to be stopped!”

 

“Preparing to launch fighters,” replied Avatar.

 

The United Nations Space Defense fighters roared out of the bays of the three space battleships as an enemy plane broke course, and kamikazed right into the keel of the space battleship Kigali as she was launching fighters. The Wilmington’s sister ship blew apart in a spectacular blast of flame.

 

“One battleship lost,” snapped Parker in an emotionless voice.

 

“Range to Nansio, sixty kilometers,” said Avatar. “They’re in our sights!”

 

“Lock on turrets and return fire!”

 

“Turrets locking onto target, the main fighter base,” said Avatar. “Power to turrets ready.”

 

“Open fire,” said Singleton.

 

“FIRE!” barked Avatar. He squeezed his firing pickle as the battleship’s turrets went off, blasting deadly white energy into the city of Nansio, which was turned into a holocaust…

 

And, so, the battle went, thought Singleton as he opened his eyes. We sent in twelve ships. Only three got out of there. But we finally got the enemy, even though the survivors spent the next five years accusing us of genocide. And no one knows whatever became of that Praxis…but, at least, that day, it was the decisive battle of the war…our war…the last war between nations fought on Earth…until now. My God, what is happening to us?

 

 

On Earth, in the nearly abandoned city of Phongsali, in the jungles of Laos, a very old mahogany-skinned man with white dreadlocks sat across a battered desk from a younger white man.

 

“Brother Samuel,” said the old man. “I have been with you for years. Amazing that your cult accepted my surviving Separatists, given your old beliefs…”

 

“Brother Praxis, we can change and adapt, just like a virus,” said Brother Samuel. “I never thought I would have accepted my mad mother’s beliefs, but now, at last, I have finally seen she was a Prophetess. And word has it she still lives, in some form.”

 

“That is why I think,” said the old African, who was really known as Mgumbe Mlowo, “that you should take over my post, Brother Josiah. Long it has been since you defected from the EDF….”

 

“I never really defected. When my term of enlistment ran out, I just never re-enlisted. Wildstar tried to talk me into re-upping, along with that Southerner American Hardy and even my cousin Nova pleaded with me to stay. I gave them lame excuses for wanting to leave. How could I have told them that I was concluding that maybe my dead mother was right? That maybe she abused me for a good reason? That reason being to teach me the true ways of righteousness?”

 

“Experience is a hard teacher,” said Praxis as he tossed Josiah an automatic pistol. “Now, kill me, Josiah.”

 

“You?” said Samuel.

 

“The only way you will become the next Praxis is by shedding my blood, just like I did with my predecessor when he was wounded at Lake Victoria.” said the old African. “Do it. Before I change my mind. This radiation cancer that the damn United Nations Forces gave me years before at Lake Victoria eats me up from the inside like an evil spirit. Now, send me to my ancestors, young man.”

 

Samuel nodded, stood, released the safety on the Smith and Wesson automatic, and aimed it at Praxis as the old man shut his eyes.

 

Samuel Josiah fired, one, two, three times….

 

Little flowers of blood appeared at the chest of the white daishiki that old Mlowo had been wearing. “Thank you, Praxis the Third,” said the old man as he smiled, and then died.

“Now, I have much to do,” said Samuel as men ran in and saluted him as their new Leader. “And I have to plan our vengeance…I have plans in mind…great plans…”

 

 

Later on that day, Singleton sent orders to the Argo and the Arizona right after the Rikashans had said their goodbyes and had warped off for home on Rikasha.

 

“Commodore Wildstar, Captain Venture,” he said as he addressed the gathered bridge crews of both ships, who were on their First Bridges looking at him on their main video panels as his voice was transmitted throughout their ships through the intership intercom systems. “I have told both of you about the new attacks at Sirius and Procyon. Since your vessels are still deployed, I am, therefore, ordering the Argo to Procyon to resume patrol duties there, and I am also ordering the Arizona to Sirius to take up patrol there. You will remain deployed there for the remaining six months of your deployments, up to 26 April, 2207, when you will bring your vessels back home to Earth for refit and replenishment and four weeks’ worth of leave for your officers and men before you are again reassigned as per the needs of the war. Both of you will begin your patrols with the officers and men you currently have, although I have taken into account your requests to have some crew members transferred off your ships; these transfers will probably take place in early December when we have other ships making rendezvous with your ships. You will make regular reports to each other and to me. Astra of Iscandar will also leave the Argo today to retrun home to Earth aboard my ship. Are there any further questions?”

 

“No, sir,” said Wildstar and Venture together as one aboard their respective commands.

 

“Very well,” said Singleton. “It is now eighteen hundred hours. You will part ways at twenty hundred hours when my fleet leaves. Good luck to both of you in your tasks.”

 

Singleton’s image disappeared a moment later. “All right, everyone,” said Wildstar aboard his ship. “We have a job to do, and you know what we have to do to make it happen. I want every station checked and rechecked. I want this ship ready for a space warp at twenty hundred. Sandor, you have the conn. I have some work to do before we leave.”

 

“Yessir,” said Sandor as he saluted and Derek returned the salute.

 

 

In the Argo’s VIP quarters, after getting his peacoat and ascot from his cabin, Wildstar went down to visit Astra of Iscandar, who was packing to leave at last.

 

She greeted him with a formal hug and said, “I’m so sorry that the negotiations didn’t go better, Derek Wildstar.”

 

“They weren’t here to negotiate in good faith, Astra. I think you know that by now.”

 

“Yes,” she said with a sad nod. “I called you down here to say that I am sorry that I let my wishes for peace overwhelm my good judgment. Something didn’t feel right about this all along. And I’m so sorry about Nova,” she said with a sniff. “I was just down to visit with her in the long-term sleep room. She seems to be sleeping very peacefully in her tube.”

 

“Yes…she is,” sighed Derek. “This deployment will bother her the least of all of us….and we will do our best to keep her and our children safe. By the way, how are Conor and Jonathan?”

 

“My husband is fine, even though he has sent to me that he is a bit bored back on Earth in the Embassy,” smiled Astra. “Jonathan, our son, and your godchild, is doing well enough. He’s thirteen now, and getting more interested in girls,” she said with a smile. “He wants to go to the Earth Defense Academy when he becomes old enough, just like Sasha…would you believe?”

 

“What do you think of the idea?”

 

“Derek, Conor loves the idea. I…am opposed to it,” she sighed. “For now, we are taking our time on the decision.” Then, as an afterthought, Astra remembered something and opened a small bag. “The…Gamilons…gave these to me before they left,” she said as she fingered two small dark green boxes with the Gamilon seal stamped on the top in gold leaf. “The one on top is for Nova. The second one is for a Mister Deke Wakefield, Lieutenant,” she said. “They’re from Desslok. Brrr….he still gives me the creeps.”

 

“Why did you delay with these?” said Derek. “Nova might have liked to see what Desslok gave her before she passed into sleep.”

 

“I am sorry,” she said. “The Gamilons only gave me these after Nova had already passed into her sleep. At least hers will be something that Nova can wake up to. As for Wakefield…”

 

“I’ll have to summon him to the ship. Aliscea also wanted to see me before they left. I’ll see them both. Also, your father sends his love and wishes you good luck on your cruise back home to Earth. It is still dangerous out there, Astra.”

 

“I…I am sure I will be well-protected,” said the young half-Iscandarian as she hugged Wildstar again. “I will also want to see Sasha again at the Embassy. Do you have any letters to give her?”

 

Derek nodded and pulled an envelope out from the inner pocket of his peacoat. It was addressed to “Sasha Petrovsky” in his handwriting in case anyone saw it but it was sealed with both wax seals as well as with the normal glue on the envelope’s flap. “I wrote her this just last night. Please tell her that our e-mail will be a bit restricted for a while because of the deployment. She’ll understand.”

 

Astra nodded. Then, she quietly said, “Goodbye, Commodore Wildstar,” and then turned away with an elegant sweep of her dress as Derek left.

 

They would not see each other again for a long time.

 

 

A while later, as Deke Wakefield flew his fighter in his uniform and flight jacket in a short hop towards the Argo, he spoke with Aliscea Rosstowski, who was in the second place of his plane behind him in the cockpit. “I wonder what Wildstar wants,” he said.

 

“I have no idea why he needs to speak to you, but I know why I must speak with him,” said the young Pellian as she sat there in her uniform and helmet watching the necessary screens as she acted as his temporary RSO. “I owe him an explanation and an apology for why I could not heal Nova and the children that day. I want to tell him this before we part ways.”

 

“You’ve told me already,” said Deke with a sigh. “You said you were protecting all of us from that damn ghost of Ekogaru and your powers were drained doing that. He’ll understand. I’m the one who messed up and let it happen.”

 

“Are you still blaming yourself?” snapped Aliscea. “She told you not to. I told you not to.”

 

“I can’t help doing it,” sighed Wakefield. “I’ve been having nightmares about all of this. I can’t get away from it, even in my damned sleep.”

 

Aliscea sat in silence. Then, Mrs Rosstowski said, “Maybe talking with Wildstar will help you?”

 

“Maybe it will,” sighed Deke.

 

 

A short while later, after landing back on the Argo, Wakefield and Rosstowski stood together at attention in Wildstar’s Captain’s quarters. Derek sat in his chair quietly with his head bowed as Aliscea told him in a very formal fashion why she was unable to do anything for Nova that day. “And that is because I was trying to put a psychic shield up over all of us,” she said quietly, in deep shame. “I drained myself defending all of us, from him…and…”

 

 “Aliscea, you told me this yourself the same day after it happened,” said Wildstar as he raised his head. “There’s no need to torture yourself with guilt over this. It just…happened..” he sighed. “Nova is in good hands now, and she is perfectly safe until we get home. I miss her, but this is the best thing for right now. Go with a clear heart.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” said Aliscea with a quiet smile.

 

“Wakefield,” said Derek as he rooted in a drawer for a box. “You know I put in for the Navy Cross for you. In one of my talks with the Commander, he approved it, and he thinks that the medal should be waiting for you by the time we all get home in April. In the meantime, the Gamilons told me you were to receive this.”

 

“The Gamilons, sir?” said Deke.

 

“Yes. They said something about it the day everything happened. However, the battle and everything that happened with Nova made me a bit…muddled…shall we say? You remember that day I was saying that was the worst day for me since my brother Alex died? I meant to say ‘that was the worst day for me ever since I learned that I thought Alex had died’…that was when Nova and I found Alex’s astro-automatic and the wreck of the Paladin on Saturn-Titan. But…anyway…open that.”

 

Deke did so. He was shocked to find a Gamilon medal in the box, made of some silver metal, lying on its black and scarlet ribbon on a dark green velvet-like background. In the lid of the presentation box was a piece of fine, creamy paper. “There’s a note in there, sir…probably in Gamilon, if it can be translated….”

 

“Open the note,” said Aliscea. “You might be surprised. My senses tell me it is a note to you from Leader Desslok.”

 

“Desslok?” said Wakefield. “Okay, why would the guy who brought about the deaths of my parents and my sister be writing me a note?”

 

“The man has changed somewhat over the years,” said Wildstar. “Read the note out loud, Wakefield. Don’t make me make it an order.”

 

“Yessir,” said Wakefield, wondering how he could comply as he unfolded the paper and found, to his shock, a handwritten note in Standard Terran English in a very fine, artistic script. It looked as if it was written very carefully in the fashion of someone to whom English was a second or third or fourth language. He began to read out loud. The note read:

 

“To Lieutenant Deke Wakefield of the Crew of the Earth Space Battleship Arizona, greetings and good wishes,

 

From the Gamilon Throne,

 

Mister Wakefield:

 

I write in haste, hoping I could have presented this to you in person. Sadly, this was not possible, owing to damage that my flagship suffered in the recent battle we have all been through at Melezart.

 

I write to tell you that your actions in helping me save the life of your injured comrade, Nova Wildstar, and in protecting her and getting her safely back to your ship have earned you an honored place in the memory of the Empire. I awarded her a decoration for saving my life. I cannot do any less for you. Therefore, please accept this medal, the Gamilon “Liebstandart”, or “Life Standard” in your tongue, in memory of your bravery that day as a Hero of the Empire. Even though we were once enemies, I have seen to it that your name and Nova’s have both been inscribed in the book of honor we keep of all Gamilons and outlanders who have rendered faithful service to me and to the Empire.

 

You are an outstanding young man, and I pray that you have further success in your military career.

 

With fond wishes,

 

DESSLOK, Leader of the Gamilons, Emperor of the Garuman People, Prince-Consort of the Pellians, Protector of Baldonia, Ally of Earth, etc.”

 

“What do you think?” said Aliscea.

 

“Damn…I don’t know what to say,” said Deke, whose heart was full of emotions. I don’t know what Mom and Dad would think of this…getting decorated by the same man who killed them… he thought. I guess this makes me some kind of high mucky-muck amongst the Gamilons or something like that…weird as hell.

 

“It’s hard to figure out, isn’t it?” said Wildstar, as if he knew what Deke was thinking as he looked over the medal. “Honor from the same people who were once trying to wipe us out.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“They decorated me twice, too. It’s an honor. You can wear the campaign ribbon right along with your normal EDF ones on your dress coat, Wakefield. Congratulations. You are only the sixth Earthling to be so decorated by the Gamilons.”

 

“Who else?”

 

“Myself, Nova, Venture, and Paul Rosstowski, and Captain Avatar, posthumously, of course, for the old Captain. If it helps, Desslok has promised us our names will be inscribed on a plaque somewhere in his capital someday.”

 

“Nice note,” said Deke. “If he really wrote it…”

 

Wildstar looked at it. “It’s authentic. I recognize the man’s handwriting. Your note alone must be worth at least one hundred thousand credits in itself to a collector…Desslok’s an interesting but very strange man. He was even sending us notes of congratulations when he was trying to blow us up back in 2199.”

 

Wakefield shook his head, squiggling a little as Aliscea took the medal and pinned it to his flight jacket. “Take this with good wishes from my stepfather, Deke. He means well.”

 

Wakefield sighed and looked at the medal. “Thanks, Aliscea,” he said as he blushed and realized he had been saying weird things about Desslok in front of his stepdaughter. Well, Wildstar evidently has mixed feelings about him, too, thought Deke.

 

Then, Aliscea turned to him and said, “I’ve heard far worse about him. Even I don’t know what to make of him at times, even though he is one of my liege-lords and my stepfather. I’d rather call him ‘father’ than that damned Gralnacz who turned to Ekogaru, that is for sure. Remember that my own father defected and turned evil before he died. But Desslok is a very unusual man. And it’s a good thing he’s on our side now.”

 

“Yeah,” said Deke. “It is.”

 

 

Later on, aboard the Arizona, Deke came back into his cabin as Brew was reading. Brew looked up, caught a look at the medal on his jacket, and gave a fake Gamilon salute and began to chant, “Wakefield! Wakefield! Wakefield!”

 

Wakefield gave his friend a quick slap as Brew laughed. Then, Deke said, “Very funny Brew, har, har, har,” as he carefully took the medal off and put it in its box.

 

“What did the Gamilons give ya that medal for, Sticks?”

 

“Helping Desslok save Nova. The same sort of thing I’m suppposed to be getting that Navy Cross for once it clears the bureaucracy at Headquarters.”

 

“Pretty slick, man,” said Brew as he looked at the medal in its box as Wakefield handed it to him. “You heard we’re back to Sirius again?”

 

“Yeah. More months of fighting ahead. You think the Comet Empire might have gotten the idea to give up after Melezart, but…”

 

“ATTENTION, ALL HANDS!” said Venture’s voice over the intercom. “We are set to warp to our new station at Sirius in fifteen minutes at twenty hundred sharp. All hands make preparations for a space warp and then head to your warp stations! This will involve continuous warp conditions, and it will be a long one.”

 

“Well, so ends another chapter of our lives,” said Brew as he and Wakefield began to secure the compartment for warp. Soon, they were done, and they ran to the Sun Tigers’ briefing room to strap in for the warp.

 

They arrived on time, and, soon, they were strapped into their assigned seats with the rest of the squadron, with Conroy nodding at their preparations in their seats as the sounds of the ship preparing itself to warp resounded all around them.

 

Soon, the final countdown came, and Deke and Brew tensed up for the space warp. When Holly Venture counted down “ZERO!” on the intercom, the Arizona soon passed into warp with the usual weird sounds and streaks of blue light. A few minutes later, the familiar bright star of Sirius appeared out of warp before them as the space battleship emerged into normal space and then began to cruise to her assigned station near the base.

 

The Argo warped out a moment later as the Commander stood on the bridge of the Westphalia and held a salute. Finally, he turned to Captain Walsh and said, “Walsh, send orders to the rest of the Fleet. We’re going home.”

 

“Yessir,” said Walsh.

 

“And, so it ends,” said Singleton to himself as the rest of Second Fleet prepared to leave. “We are going home…”

 

IV. INQUEST!

The Andromeda Galaxy

Imperial Center/Great Andromeda

Friday, November 7, 2206

1400 Hours: Earthtime

The Great Homeworld of the Comet Empire was an incredibly bleak place.

 

There was no greenery of any sort left on Great Andromeda, except for a few small domed parks accessible only by the nobles. There were no wild animals, and there were no forests, oceans, or deserts left. The entire surface of the Earth-sized world was covered with one vast artificial city, a city with both high towers and deep underground passages, caverns, and dungeons. The light of the world’s sun was seldom seen since both climate and the pollution of the Empire’s many slave-run factories, shipyards, smelters, and mines created a gloomy, almost perpetual pall of slate-grey clouds and fog that blew over the city-world’s surface.

 

The whole planet looked like a Cometine city-ship, and, in fact, it was slowly being turned into one. It was hoped that in the future that the very energies of the planet’s volcanic cores could be tapped and harnessed to turn this mutating obscenity of a world into a spacegoing fortress itself that would traverse the territories of the Empire and its conquests much like Ekogaru’s Fortress had done, with this difference; the scientists of the Empire were developing a mad plan to cover this planet with a truly colossal Comet Field, a field that would be strong enough to devour stars in a few minutes. They had heard of Ekogaru’s legendary Grand Fortress and came up with the idea that, someday, the Cometines would do far better than even that mad engineer had done.

 

It was felt that the launching of the Great Comet would take place in maybe a hundred Imperial Years. Until then, the Emperor was plotting to secure the many conquests of his Princes, Princesses, and other nobles and to build the Empire into a force that would act as second to none in controlling the whole universe.

 

General Gorse found himself very humbled by this might as his small-looking fleet of ten ships went into orbit around Great Andromeda. Even some minor Prince’s Dreadnought, lifting off at high speed on an errand for the Emperor, looked very small as it ascended from the planet and roared off into orbit.

 

“Gatlantean House Fleet,” said an officious-sounding controller on the bridge speakers of Gorse’s flagship, the Cometine space battleship Vygas. “Hold to your pre-arranged course and make landing at the docks connected to your House Castle Complex near the equator. You will not deviate from your approved course, General Gorse.”

 

“Understood,” said Gorse as he nodded, watching as a cloud of Scorpion gunboats in navy blue and white surrounded his fleet. “Helm, hold to our course.”

 

“Yes, sire,” said Gorse’s helmsman as Gorse stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

The city-world grew larger in their windows as Gorse wondered what would happen today.

 

 

A few hours later, Gorse felt very small as he stood in a vast, almost dark courtroom in the huge Imperial Palace at the witness stand.

 

An elderly bearded judge sat behind a high bench, while, in the darkness behind him, the Grand Emperor himself sat watching the proceedings on a high throne on a very high dais.

 

Behind a table stood General Radnar, who looked and sounded utterly fanatical as he snapped, “And what were Invidia’s reasons, Gorse, for committing lese majeste against the Throne?”

 

“We did not do so on purpose, Radnar,” replied Gorse as he looked to his left to the usual defendant’s cage; the glassteel booth stood signficantly empty, but he knew that if Invidia had been able to travel, she would have been the one sitting in the clear cage. “The Emperor was not there to analyze the full situation. Not even he could predict that the Gamilons would have attacked us and that the Terran woman Nova Wildstar would have tried to kill the Princess herself by throwing a dagger at her. What a barbarian!”

 

“Actually, the woman’s deed sounds almost admirable,” said Radnar with an evil grin as he stroked his beard and smiled at the fat, bald figure of Prince Fallen, who sat grinning next to him at the curved prosecution table. “The video that you have shown me proved that she was a very resourceful little barbarian. And it is amazing that the Gamilons and Earthlings have conspired to keep her alive. Such feats on the part of the Earthers are why Zordar wanted them to become a jewel in the Empire’s crown to begin with.”

 

“The Earthlings deserve nothing but extermination for their rebellion!” snapped Gorse.

 

“Maybe they deserve to live,” purred Radnar. “They could still be useful. Especially since they have managed to resist us for so long. Now, let me go over Desslok’s claim to the Throne of House Gatlantis…”

 

“I have told you; it is our contention that Zordar was mad when he made that bequest!” snapped Gorse. “It is of no effect if he was not of sound mind.”

 

“I think he was of sound mind,” said Radnar. “And, my dear Gorse, I can prove it…”

 

“Proceed…” said the Grand Emperor in a deep voice from his throne. “This should prove to be very interesting…”

 

 

When the first day ended, Gorse returned home to his House’s palace and slammed the door behind him in his apartments. Soon, he called Dyre back home on the Eritz Gatlantis.

 

“How is it going, Gorse?” asked Dyre over his screen.

 

“Not well,” said Gorse. “They have virtually decided already that Invidia should be dethroned.”

 

“I told you that she wanted you to argue in her favor?” snapped Dyre.

 

“True,” said Gorse. “I am trying. But it seems they are slanted towards Radnar. He is personally arguing for the prosecution.”

 

“I think it is possible he hopes he can make a deal with Desslok, once Invidia is deposed and ordered home,” said Dyre.

 

“I am almost wondering if it is worth it,” sighed Gorse.

 

“What do you mean?” yelled Dyre.

 

“I think we are going to lose. Let us make a settlement with them, Dyre. Do I have your permission to enter negotiations from behind the Throne?”

 

“You most certainly do not,” said Dyre. “Continue with our current course. You know how it might go; you helped me make contigency plans to fight the other Houses if it came to that.”

 

“It is possible we might be fighting Radnar himself, first,” said Gorse. “I do not like that possibility at all.”

 

 

Five days later, the last arguments had been made. The Grand Emperor and six other judges marched in along with the Presiding Judge. All of the parties stood.

 

“This Court has made its final decision in the Name of the Emperor,” said the Presiding Judge. “We find that Lady Invidia, of House Gatlantis, has committed offenses against the Throne on several counts. We find that Zordar’s declaration of succession was valid and that Invidia’s styling herself as the Princess of House Gatlantis was an illegal sucession and an illegal action. We also find that her continued war against the so-styled “Galactic Alliance” of Earth, Gamilon, Iscandar, Rikasha, and other worlds was an illegal conflict in which she persisted despite orders from the Throne to stop. We find that Invidia is found guilty of waste of Imperial resources and worlds in her throwing forces against the Alliance in the face of orders to stop her war. And, we find that Invidia and her retainers are guilty of treachery in negotiating in bad faith with, and in attempting to assassinate, alien envoys with whom Our Empire may have made profitable alliances.”

 

Gorse bowed his head and trembled quietly as the Judge continued with, “For these actions, the Throne finds Invidia and her retainers worthy of the death penalty and stripped of their ranks and honors. However, sentence is remitted if Invidia will sign a Warrant of Abdication that the Throne shall issue to Dyre and sign an undertaking to stop all actions against the Alliance. She will then return peacefully and in submission to her House’s Palace here on the Homeworld with her retainers, who will surrender the Eritz Gatlantis and its forces to the custody of a Regent whom the Throne shall name until the formal accession of the new Heir, Desslok of Gamilon, to the rank of Prince of House Gatlantis, be completed. Desslok will then have authority to deal with the war as he wishes. Invidia and her retainers will be allowed to keep their ranks, honors, and pensions if they shall undertake a covenant to retire from politics and live out their remaining years on the Homeword in exile free from prosecution in memory of the accomplishments of their father and liege-lord Prince Zordar. Thus has the Throne spoken!”

 

The rod of judgment was slammed down as Radnar smiled at Gorse as he shook hands with him. “You see, dear friend, that we have won.”

 

“Maybe Invidia shall decide otherwise,” said Gorse as he choked back tears.

 

“Maybe we shall have to kill you, in that event,” laughed Prince Fallen as he shook Gorse’s hand. “I feel badly for you, Gorse. For your sake. Not for Invidia’s. Why did you ever follow that swine?”

 

“Loyalty,” said Gorse.

 

“Come, Gorse,” smiled Radnar. “You won’t have to sit on your tail forever, friend. I’ll put in a good word for you when Desslok is sworn in sometime next Imperial Year.”

 

“That remains to be seen,” said Gorse.

 

“Then, friend, it remains to be seen if you will live to the next year,” said Radnar in a slow and dangerous fashion. “Come, Prince Fallen. Let us leave these heretics…to…their fancies. And pray with me Arishna will forgive them.”

 

Both men laughed as they left and Gorse was left alone.

 

One way or another, thought Gorse. We will win. We will beat this damned edict, and we will win!

 

 

In the meantime, a day later, on Earth, President James Mendellsohn sat in his office in Presidential House sharing champagne with General Singleton, General Stone, and Prime Minister Gonjin.

 

“Here’s to another six years,” said Mendellsohn as he clinked glasses with his friends and smiled.

 

“You were re-elected, but only by a hundred thousand votes,” said Stone. “That was a bit close.”

 

“Yes, it was. But I intend to stay the course,” said Mendellsohn.

 

“Which means, no further negotiations with our enemies?” said Gonjin.

 

The President nodded. “Not unless Desslok were to show up here near Earth driving that Comet or something like that. Interesting tactic he tried at that failure of a Conference.”

 

“Can we trust Desslok?” said Stone.

 

“We are signed to alliance with him,” said Singleton. “Mister President, I trust the Alliance will continue…?”

 

“It will,” said Mendellsohn. “And you two shall remain in your current posts as Commander and Chief of Staff of the Earth Defense Forces. Bring us a victory, men.”

 

“We shall do our best, sir,” said Singleton as he and Stone nodded.

 

V. THE HOLY WAR BEGINS

The Edge of The Andromeda Galaxy

The Vicinity of Planet Petronia

The Eritz Gatlantis

Thursday, November 20, 2206

1000 Hours: Earthtime

Princess Invidia, just as imperious as ever, sat on her throne in the Eritz Gatlantis and read over a portfolio that Gorse had handed her upon his return from the Homeworld.

 

“What do you think, Princess?” said Dyre in a slow, careful voice.

 

Invidia laughed and tore a page out of the book as she stood up. “They expect I am going to abandon the Throne Father left me? They are mad,” she hissed. She held up the page she had torn out of the book; it was the Warrant of Abdication. She tore it in half and spat upon it as she threw it to the deck. “Tell the Emperor he can use this as toilet paper, Gorse. I categoricially reject it.”

 

“They said they’d go to war against us if we defied them,” said Gorse as he sweated. “They pronounced the death sentence over all of us.”

 

“They will change their minds when I bring them Desslok’s head,” snapped Invidia. “The war continues. Dyre, keep on the attacks upon those Gamilon bases and those Earth bases. We will not give up while we are ahead!”

 

“Princess,” said Dyre. “We are not ahead. In fact, we are seriously out of favor. Can you not see that?”

 

“But we stand unbowed!” roared Invidia. “Gorse, I will compose an answer. Transmit it to the Imperial Palace, and then prepare for us to leave Petronia in a few days. We head to the Great Magellenic Cloud next. I want Gamilons to die, gentlemen!  And we will show them we shall win!”

 

“Yes, Princess,” said Invidia’s toadies as they bowed to her.

 

 

Friday, November 21, 2206…

 

A day later, Radnar reported to the Grand Emperor and Savela on his knees. “Sire, can you believe this response?”

 

“You prophecied treachery from her,” said the Grand Emperor. “Well, we offered her mercy. She has just signed her own death warrant, my friend.”

 

“Do I have permission to begin punishing House Gatlantis?” said Radnar.

 

“You do, but patience, first,” said the Emperor. “Work with Prince Fallen to bolster your forces. You will adopt the blue colors of his House for now for ready identification. Paint the green of House Gatlantis off all of your vessels, friend. I decree, at last, that Invidia and her retainers are rebels against the power of the Comet Empire and stand now as disgraced outcasts. You may enter into a holy trial of combat with her, Radnar. With my support, Radnar, begin your holy war. If you win, install Desslok as the new Prince of House Gatlantis and allow him to terminate the war by whatever legal niceties he would wish. If you lose, Radnar, you shall die and then Invidia can bring us a victory and forgiveness, if ever she gets that far. I do not think she will do so. You and Fallen shall act together. Ask him to aid you, Radnar. May Arishna go with you!”

 

“Thank you, Lord,” said Radnar as he prostrated himself before the Throne in tears, finally having gotten everything he had wanted.

 

“Go,” said the Emperor.

 

 

Sunday, November 23, 2206…

 

Two days later, Radnar spoke with Prince Fallen aboard his Dreadnought, the Purification, as he drilled and prepared his forces.

 

“My spy ships say they are still at Petronia,” said Fallen. “I will give you General Calvis and his squadron of battleships as support for your war, Radnar. I recommend you strike as soon as you can manage, my friend.”

 

“Thank you, Prince Fallen,” said Radnar as they shook hands and made their pact. “We shall not rest until Invidia lies dead and House Gatlantis is in our hands. Then we make Desslok our puppet.”

 

“I am glad we can work together, General.”

 

“So am I. Good luck with your holy war.”

 

“May Arishna bless us,” said Radnar as he smiled.

 

VI. THE COMETINE WAR GRINDS ON…

Space Battleship Argo

The Vicinity of Procyon VI

Tuesday, December 2, 2206

0934 Hours: Earthtime

It was a familiar scenario.

 

The Argo was again under attack from a squadron of Cometine destroyers and battleships that were protecting a carrier that was launching Scorpions at the Terran and Gamilon bases below on Procyon VI in yet another attempt to capture the bases.

 

The Argo, with the support of a few Gamilon destroyers and Garuman cruisers, was again engaged in heavy fighting to protect the base.

 

What a spot, thought Commodore Derek Wildstar as he observed a Garuman cruiser taking a hit for them outside. And we’re taking damage ourselves. The ship’s been hit five times already. What’s making them fight like this?

 

The Argo took another hit, and everything on the bridge darkened for a moment as the lights flickered. “C’mon, guys!” said Wildstar as he barked out an order from just the light of his instruments at his Captain’s station for a moment. “What’s the problem?”

 

“Sir, the enemy ships just evaded that last burst from our main guns,” said Domon.

 

“Well, lock on target and try again!” yelled Wildstar. “Becker! Where are they?” he snapped as the lights came back up.

 

In agony because part of her board had exploded and because her arm was bleeding, Lieutenant Victoria Becker held a combat dressing in place as IQ 8.7 taped it and she said, “Captain, enemy ships are at ten megameters’ range…they have us surrounded.”

 

Not far away, a Gamilon destroyer locked its own gun houses on the enemy fleet. “We have to do our best to help the Earthlings and defend our own base on that planet,” said its Captain. “General Dagon’s orders! Don’t let them escape!”

 

“Yessir,” barked a Gamilon officer as he sat ready to fire. “Firing guns!”

 

The Gamilon ship fired, and scored a direct hit on a Cometine destroyer. “Not bad work, eh?”

 

“Keep it up,” snapped the Captain.

 

 

In the meantime, on the Argo, Wildstar noticed Becker’s bleeding arm. “You have permission to leave your post, Miss Becker…” said Wildstar as the bridge lights dimmed for a minute again as the Argo took yet another hit.

 

“Sir, please let me stay,” she gasped. “I can keep on tracking them….”

 

“What do you recommend, IQ-8.7?” said Wildstar.

 

“Observe her carefully,” said the robot in his down-home voice. “If she gets hurt again or shows more bleedin’ relieve her at once.”

 

“Captain, I have the enemy in our sights,” said Domon. “Four ships…coming right in range…”

 

Wildstar nodded. “Open fire!”

 

The Argo’s guns went off again, and then they went off yet again as the enemy destroyers scattered.

 

“Wildstar,” said Sandor. “We need to get that carrier before it launches a second wave of gunboats.”

 

“The Earth base is reporting that they’re taking a beating,” said Homer. “They’re also reporting that the enemy has just landed manned and robot tanks, along with landing troops, both robotic and Cometine…”

 

“Domon, have Hardy and Hartcliffe take off at once to attack that enemy spacecraft carrier. Order Lubyanska to have her squadron attack those tanks, and have Hemsford take off with all of our landing boats and his men to help defend that base. Keep Collingswood and his squadron near the ship as our fighter cover.”

 

“Roger that!” said Domon as he barked out orders to the Black Tigers.

 

A moment later, the Argo fired her main guns again, blasting havoc into the Cometine battleships and destroyers as they took damage, but, nonetheless, fired back at the Gamilons and the Earth ship.

 

“How goes the battle?” snapped the Cometine commander from his carrier, a ship known as the Karanga.

 

“Not well, General Nason,” said the commander of the enemy battleship squadron as he called in. “We’re taking heavy damage. I never guessed the Star Force had such range.”

 

“You should have read the reports, Captain Hazek,” snapped Nason. “The Argo is not to be trifled with. But I want her dead!”

 

“We will do our best, lord,” said Hazek as he continued to fire.

 

He smiled as his guns scored a hit on the Argo, but then, a moment later, he screamed as a good hit from the Argo blew apart his squadron flagship even as the rest of his forces fought on.

 

On the Argo, Wildstar smiled. “Domon, cease fire. Let the Tigers take care of the rest of them, now.”

 

“Yessir.”

 

“Make sure you tell the Gamilons that,” said Sandor as pink blasts of fire continued to pump towards the enemy fleet.

 

“Yes, of course…,” said Wildstar. “Homer! Open a channel to their flagship!”

 

 

In the meantime, Hardy and Hartcliffe were roaring in together towards the enemy carrier at the fleet’s rear. It was a heavy carrier, and it was firing its anti-spacecraft guns as quickly as it could.

 

“We’re takin’ heavy damage!” barked Hardy. “Hartcliffe, you take them from starboard. I’ll get them from port. We’re gonna teach those green creeps a lesson or two, mah friend.”

 

“We sure will, mate,” said Hartcliffe. “All right, Second Squadron! We’re gonna teach those guys you don’t mess with our lot!”

 

“Heading in to finish them off!” said another one of Hartcliffe’s pilots. “Full power, people!”

 

The planes accelerated a moment later.

 

The Tigers streaked in and began to fire missiles and guns as if they were going out of style. Many Tigers died, but many scored more than enough hits on the enemy carrier to make them regret they had ever followed Invidia’s orders and warped to this miserable system in the middle of nowehere to die unheralded deaths in a war that they were beginning to have doubts about.

 

“Sir!” barked an officer on the enemy carrier. “Power to the main engine is down twenty percent!”

 

“Possible reactor leak in energy control!” reported a voice on the speakers.

 

“Main flight deck forward elevator out!” yelled another voice on the speakers as a Black Tiger kamikazed right into the flight deck.

 

“Fuel supplies for the planes are threatened! Closing pressurized lines!”

“Main radar damaged!” screamed another voice on the speakers over the sound of an explosion and many screams. “Lower operations deck is on fire!”

 

We are going to lose, thought General Nason as he watched the carnage that was taking place on the flight deck of his mighty carrier. And I can never explain this to Dyre or Gorse.

 

“General,” said an officer. “I recommend we withdraw!”

 

“Why?” muttered Nason. “I am doomed now regardless of whether we come home or not,” said the Cometine commander. “We fight on until we die, Dehgas.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It is our way, friend, it is our…”

 

Then, a moment later, Bryan Hartcliffe himself grinned like a maniac and fired a burst of missiles right at the Karanga’s bridge. He pulled up just in time as the bridge tower of the ship turned into a burning mushroom cloud of fire and debris as the rest of his squadron rendered “paid” to the enemy carrier with six more missiles.

 

Soon, the Karanga herself was no more as Hardy flew away while screaming a Rebel Yell. “Not bad, guys! Let’s clean up this enemy fleet and then see if Tatiana could use our help down below on that planet.”

 

 

“General Dagon is on line!” said Homer.

 

A moment later, the Garuman commander appeared on the Argo’s main screen.

 

“General, I request that your forces cease fire on the enemy fleet,” said Wildstar. “I have fighter planes in the area taking care of that carrier.”

 

“And they did a good job, too,” said Dagon. “For Earthlings, that is. The carrier is already finished off. We just noticed that.”

 

“Will we have your aid in the next few days, General?” asked Wildstar.

 

“No, unfortunately,” said Dagon. “Desslok has summoned the bulk of my forces home in the next few days. “There is a planet of ours known as Pogi under heavy attack from the enemy. I have to return to the Great Magellenic Cloud soon to stop them. I leave you the 118th Destroyer Squadron and the 51st Cruiser Squadron to help defend our base. They will be under the command of General Halger down below at the base, but I have ordered him to make sure they offer you aid if we need it. After all, we are allies. Even if fighting you would have been glorious.”

 

“General?”

 

“I have seen how you fight. If ever we end up on each others’ wrong sides, you would offer a great challenge, Star Force. I mean this as a compliment.”

 

“Thank you, General,” said Wildstar. “Your men fought well, too.”

 

“I take that as a compliment, Earther,” said Dagon with a wicked smile. “I hope to share a drink with you someday in Hell, Wildstar.”

 

Wildstar nodded. “And the same with you, General Dagon.”

 

“Good flying,” said Dagon as he cut off.

 

Interesting ally, thought Wildstar. Even if he sounds like he holds us in contempt.

 

 

Down below on Procyon VI, a landing boat came down as the Cometines below fired missiles at the Space Marines trying to relieve the Earth base.

 

The landing boat included Marine Lieutenant Paul Hemsford, who had been reassigned back to the Argo in late October along with his group; they had been on one of the capital ships in Second Fleet.

 

“Feels good to be back,” said Hemsford as he looked at one of his men as he piloted the ship down.

 

“I’ve wanted to disassemble a few robots of theirs for the past few weeks, sir,” said one of Hemsford’s sergeants.

 

“Sounds, good, but what about the real ones?” laughed Hemsford. “Blood and guts, man. Let’s see if these suckas are green…on the inside…”

 

The Marines laughed as they went into battle, and won, later that day.

 

VII. LEST WE FORGET…

Space Battleship Arizona

The Vicinity of Sirius

Sunday, December 7, 2206

1210 Hours: Earthtime

It happened a few days later after the Argo’s close victory at Procyon.

 

The crew of the Arizona, including Deke and Brew, were busy eating lunch with Conroy on their ship in orbit of the base world at Sirius when the space battleship shook in a familiar way as they heard an explosion deep in the vitals of the ship.

 

From the feel of the blast, the ship had been hit near her stern. They would find out they were right a few minutes later when they found an auxiliary engine burning when they flew out to defend their ship.

 

“Oh, shoot!” yelled Conroy as the lights dimmed and the red alert klaxons went off. “Didn’t even touch mah main course, yet!”

 

Wakefield and Brew pushed back their chairs as the ship shook again. “You guys are the Alert-Thirty boys! Forget that and get to your planes!”

 

“Roger!” they yelled as they saluted and ran off.

 

“Wonder what it is this time?” said Deke as he ran beside Brew.

 

“They’re shooting something at us, cuz,” Marrable said as the ship shook again. “They sure aren’t shooting flowers at us.”

 

“Might be submarines,” said Wakefield. “They wouldn’t have gotten the jump on us otherwise…”

 

 

“Enemy fleet picked up by sonar!” said Aliscea Rosstowski as Captain Mark Venture ran onto the bridge. “Squadron of eight submarines. They just warped in eight destroyers and three space battleships, along with eight missile cruisers!”

 

“Damnit, they sure showed up in a hurry,” said Paul Rosstowski as he brought up his weapons systems.

 

Captain Venture sat down as he said, “This is ironic, guys.”

 

“Why?” said Holly as she struggled to keep the Arizona on course.

 

“Anyone looked at the calendar?” barked Venture as he pulled off his Captain’s cap as the ship shook again. “This is damn ironic, that on 7 December, the 265th observance of Pearl Harbor Day, I am skipper of a ship named Arizona under sneak attack from an enemy in space. This is downright SICK, my friends.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” said Paul Rosstowski. “Lest we forget…”

 

“To remember, let’s fight on,” said Venture. “I don’t want the Arizona to sink again under my watch!”

 

“Damn straight!” laughed Lieutenant Marchand from Engineering. “Except for that hit on the starboard auxiliary, I can give you all the power you want, sir!”

 

“Good,” said Venture. “Give it to us! Mister Rosstowski, Miss Morris, ready space mines. We have to get those subs first.”

 

 

Outside, just a few minutes later, Wakefield and Marrable were leading their sections into battle yet again. First, they attacked the space submarines as they surfaced out of hyperspace to blast at the Arizona with more torpedoes. Then, Marrable noticed one of the anti-matter missile ships firing its deadly load at the planet.

 

“Shoot, gotta stop those!” he yelled as he put on full turboburners and roared off to chase the missiles. At long range, he fired, and after two or three bursts, he got them. Joined by his other planes a moment later, they attacked the missile cruiser that had just fired the missiles.

 

After losing two planes, Marrable’s section won that round.

 

In the meantime, Wakefield and his group were busy with one of the space battleships. This ship was particularly hard to bring down, and its anti-spacecraft guns shot down two of his pilots. But, Wakefield fought back with a burst of missiles; followed by his other pilots, and, before long, they finished the ship off.

 

“Return to base!” said Conroy in his headset a moment later. “The Arizona is about to fire!”

 

“Fire what?” said Wakefield.

 

“You’ll find out soon enough, Sticks! NOW CLEAR THE GODDAMN AREA!”

 

“Yessir!”

 

 

After the Sun Tigers had landed, Paul Rosstowski smiled grimly through his target scope at what was left of the enemy fleet. “They’re throwing themselves at us all at once!” said the ship’s Combat Group Leader.

 

“Not bad,” said Venture. “Playing right into our hands, huh? Stop all engines. Wave Motion Gun ready!”

 

“Roger that,” said Marchand as he flicked the right switches. “We’ll be at 120% in two minutes!”

 

“All hands!” snapped Venture over the PA. “We are firing the wave motion gun at the enemy fleet! Brace yourselves and ready for recoil shock!”

 

The surviving Cometine space battleship fired its shock guns in the Arizona’s direction; the deadly cyclone-like surge just missed them. “How long do we have?” asked Venture.

 

“One minute!” snapped Rosstowski. “Safety lock open!”

 

“Energy level one hundred percent!” said Marchand over the oscillating hum of the Arizona’s wave motion gun as he lowered his goggles. “Now at one hundred and five percent!”

 

“Missiles fired and approaching!” barked Aliscea from her post.

 

“Thirty seconds to firing,” said Rosstowski as he lowered his own goggles. “Brace for shock!”

 

“Range of missiles, eight megameters and closing!” said Aliscea. “Ready to take action myself…”

 

“No need to!” said Paul. “Commencing ten-second countdown! Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…”

 

The missiles rushed in closer as Rosstowski finished the countdown. “two…one..zero!”

 

“FIRE!” barked Venture.

 

The Arizona’s wave gun went off a second later.

 

It was just in time. Only one missile got through, causing minor damage as it slammed into the lower part of the Arizona’s bow.

 

The rest of them went up like snowflakes in a blast furnace, followed by the rest of the enemy fleet as the blue-white tachyon beam struck home and sped off past an asteroid.

 

As space went silent, the battered space battleship Arizona cruised on, having avenged its honor very well on 7 December at last.

 

And, at that, Captain Mark Venture was very relieved. Good job, everyone, he thought to himself as he caught his breath.

 

 

VIII. INVIDIA BEGINS TO EAT A COLD DISH

The Edge of The Andromeda Galaxy

The Vicinity of Planet Petronia

The Eritz Gatlantis

Wednesday, December 10, 2206

1942 Hours: Earthtime

“Gentlemen,” hissed Princess Invidia as she gestured over and over again with her pointer at Dyre, Gorse and their men. “You idiots didn’t get either the Arizona or the Argo! I am not happy with that! Those accursed space warships have more lives than the undead! When can we attack Earth?”

 

“We sent good men after those ships and bases,” said Dyre. “In both cases, we were just outfought. Every day we attack the Earthlings, and every day we lose. I wonder more and more when we should just stop this.”

 

“Intelligence estimates state that for the first time, Princess, the Alliance forces might just finally outnumber our own,” said Gorse. “And we cannot count on other Houses as you had once hoped to. We are on our own now, that is what that declaration of the Emperor says.”

 

“How could it get any worse?” hissed Invidia with a mean smirk. “Surely the other Houses will not dare to attack us, idiots?”

 

A Colonel came into the briefing room and saluted. “Enemy fleet spotted off the starboard, one hundred gerad! Fleet identified as Cometine!”

 

“How do you know they are enemies?” snapped Dyre.

 

“They just fired on our picket ships!” yelled the officer.

 

“NO!” yelled Dyre. “IDIOTS!”

 

 

A moment later, a video signal came through to the Eritz Gatlantis as they looked at the strange fleet that faced them down; they were Cometine ships, all right…but ships in a light blue marked with royal blue in places. What are they doing in the colors of House Kolog? Invidia thought as an image of a face replaced that of the fleet they were facing down.

 

Dyre recognized that face at once. All of them did.

 

It was Admiral Tendor.

 

Their former comrade. Before Zordar had banished him and his maniac General Radnar, of course.

 

“Lady Invidia, Gorse, Dyre,” said Tendor. “It is good to be here. For me. It is rather bad for you.”

 

“Why do you dare attack us?” said Invidia.

 

“Simple. Arishna has declared you, through the mouth of our prophet Radnar, a blight to the Empire, and a blight to the very mind of the Emperor. Will you not see reason and surrender, or must we crush you?”

 

“You? Crush us?” roared Invidia.

 

A blast then hit the Eritz Gatlantis. “What was that?” screamed Invidia.

 

“Magna-flame gun!” said Gorse. “He’s standing off and using the field to warp those blasts in!”

 

“Just as we used to,” said Invidia.

 

“Not good, is it, being on the receiving end of Arishna’s wrath?” laughed Tendor as another blast roared in. “We’re just going to damage you and ruin your picket fleet today…and give you time to repent. We can be merciful.”

 

“You will have to kill us!” yelled Invidia. “Dyre! Ready our own Magna-Flame cannons…target…”

 

“We have something better in mind,” said Tendor as a third and final blast came in from his ship. “And now, I leave. We will meet again, Invidia.”

 

At that, his fleet warped away.

 

“Hit and run attack!” said Dyre as he was handed a sheet. “We have lost ten more ships. With this loss, we have just a bit less than nine hundred ships deployed throughout our House’s space. We have two hundred ships left for offensive action now, and we have a hundred already committed to fight the Gamilons at Pogi…”

 

“Pull the ships away from the colonies!” yelled Invidia.

 

“And lose them?” said Gorse as he was handed another communique. “More bad news. What we have left in the Black Fox Nebula is also under attack. Radnar’s own fleet, they said…”

 

“NO!” hissed Invidia. “I cannot lose now! I cannot!”

 

“Invidia, face reason,” said Gorse. “Unless we slow down our offensive efforts…that is exactly what will happen.”

 

For once, Invidia just broke down, and, at last she began to cry.

 

Somehow, Dyre found her tears more terrifying than any sort of rage.

 

 

IX. A NEW LIFE FOR DAWN WESTLAND

The Vicinity of Planet Pluto

EDF Supply Ship Mount Rainier

Friday, December 12, 2206

1300 Hours: Earthtime

“I wonder what’s going on?” said Ensign Dawn Westland as she shouldered her seabag while carrying two heavy suitcases.

 

“They didn’t tell us anything, either,” said Lieutenant Samantha Cleveland as she carried her own worldly goods. “They just told us, get up and go,” she said.

 

“But where?” said Dawn. “They said we were doing a good job, didn’t they?”

 

“Deployments are often like this in the EDF, Dawn,” said Cleveland as she raised an eyebrow under her burdens.

 

“They didn’t give me any orders,” said Dawn.

 

“Our orders will be waiting for us when we get there,” said Cleveland as they got into a line in a passage on the huge supply ship Mount Rainier that gave a view down her foredecks through several viewports; Dawn guessed they were somewhere in the ship’s command tower, which was at the stern of these huge freighters. Dawn had arrived here on board the patrol cruiser Snake River, and she had thought that cruiser was big. This ship, at 229 meters long, was much bigger. Dawn remembered the ship recognition course she had been forced to sit through at Pensacola, and she knew that the only bigger warships the EDF had were her modern spacecraft carriers and space battleships. And I’m probably never going to see one of those, she thought. I’d give my eye teeth to know where we’re going.

 

Dawn stood in her place, smiling a little as she heard someone reporting in a sweet, slightly high alto voice that sounded somewhat familiar, somehow. She didn’t know where she had heard it before, but she heard the voice saying, “Sir, prior assignment, space destroyer Camden, Fifth Fleet.”

 

“You look a bit young for this assignment, Junior Lieutenant.”

 

“I was just promoted, sir. They say I did a great job at the Battle of Callisto, sir.”

 

“Okay, you can move on,” said the officer.

 

Before long, Dawn reported as she wondered who that young woman was; she had never seen her face.

 

“Ensign Westland,” said the bearded young officer as he looked down a list. “Glad to see you here, Ensign. Sign here for your berth. You’ll be rooming with Cleveland.”

 

“Sir,” said Dawn in a meek voice as she looked around the ship. “Where are we going?”

 

“You’ll find out…soon enough,” said the young man as he looked at one list and then another. “I think you might like your new assignment, Miss. Next?”

 

 

THREE DAYS LATER….

 

“How was that last space warp?” said Dawn as she undid her belt as spots danced in front of her eyes in their cabin.

 

“Awful,” said Samantha Cleveland. “I have no idea where the heck we are.”

 

“I know they seem to have been pushing this old ship mighty hard,” said Dawn as they walked towards an observation deck. “I see some kind of planet off in the distance….a rocky world…where is this?”

 

“We’re outside of the solar system,” someone said. “All of the stars look weird.”

 

“ALL HANDS,” boomed a voice over the intercom. “PREPARE FOR RENDEZVOUS IN TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES. DIRECT YOUR ATTENTION TO THE STARBOARD SIDE IF YOU ARE NEAR A VIEWPORT!”

 

“We’re facing starboard,” said Samantha.

 

“What could we be meeting up with out here?” said Dawn, who was more puzzled than ever.

 

A young man who was carrying a pilot’s bag looked at the stars and said, “This is Procyon. We’re way out of the solar system. The star is actually a binary. It is very bright.”

 

The ship turned a little so that Procyon’s blinding white orb disappeared beyond the superstructure, and Dawn suddenly noticed a very bright star with two smaller stars below it off in the distance.

 

“I wonder what that is?” asked a young man.

 

“Easy,” said another man. “Ship engines. What do you think?”

 

“But what ship in the Fleet has three engines like that? And is way out here?” said Samantha. “I….what…the…?”

 

“What?” said Dawn.

 

“Think of your ship recognition, Westland!” said Cleveland. “Deep space, three engines, out beyond the solar system…we…”

 

“We’re slowing down?” said someone else.

 

“No, the ship is. And she’s making a slow turn to port, and…”

 

Dawn took in a deep breath as her eyes ran over the ship’s superstructure as she was caught by a set of spotlights that suddenly shined off from the Mount Rainier’s upper works.

 

As the Mount Rainier drew closer to the ship, she saw that it was very large, and, after a moment, she happened to notice that she was not silver, but she was, instead, a shiny, distinctive blue-grey color with a deep scarlet keel.

 

Oh, my God, thought Dawn as the import of the ship’s color scheme came to her. Nothing else in the Fleet has those colors. Can they be serious? Or are we just stopping there for a minute? I…

 

Everyone came up to the windows and the deck went silent as everyone recognized the sleek silhouette of the mighty space battleship. They soon recognized her long foredeck, high clipper prow, high bridge tower, rakish smokestack missile silo, and large main and auxiliary gun turrets.

 

When they drew closer, they could see the anchor marks on her flanks and the white stripes on her main guns, but they could also see many damaged, dented, burned, and welded hull plates in the ship.

 

“God almighty,” whispered Samantha Cleveland in awe. “She looks like she’s been through hell.”

 

 “We’re really looking at a warship that’s been in battle?”

 

“You’re looking at the old grey lady of the Fleet, people,” said another young man in complete awe.

 

Just as Dawn finally registered that she was looking right at the space battleship Argo in person, as it were, for the first time in her life, a pilot snapped to attention and saluted.

 

Another pilot brought his fist up to his chest in salute. To Dawn’s shock, a woman who looked almost like Nova Wildstar, with somewhat lighter blond hair that came down to the middle of her back, came up and saluted with tears running down her cheeks.

 

Three, four, five men and women came up and saluted.

 

Before Dawn knew it, she, herself, was on her booted feet, at attention, and saluting.

 

“All hands on observation deck #2, prepare to disembark,” said a young officer in a peacoat who came into the compartment.

 

“Where are we going?” said a young pilot.

 

“Where do you think?” said the young officer. “Over there. You’ve just been drafted for the Star Force.”

 

An excited babble filled the compartment as the ship slowed and began to prepare to dock with the Argo. “Stow it!” yelled the young officer as he read from a list. “First Group! Cleveland! De Paul! Forrester! Garfield! Kiyama! Lewis! McCall! Morrison! Rigland! Westland! Get in line and sound off! You pilots, over there, get ready to man your planes. You people are flying over!”

 

The other men and women lined up and sounded off as the nine pilots formed a line and marched off that deck. Finally, the officer said, “All present! Good! Get your gear and get down to docking bay five! Ten minutes! They’re waiting for you!”

 

“Uh…waiting where, sir?” said Dawn as she walked around in a daze.

 

“Where?” barked the officer. “You are one hell of a ditz, Ensign! They’re waiting for you and twenty-nine others on the Argo! What do you think?”

 

Dawn looked at the space battleship and shook her head. I…can’t believe it, she thought. Chosen as part of the crew of the Number One ship of the whole Fleet? If Deke could see me now….he’d just die of incomprehension…and maybe envy?

 

“Ensign Westland!” yelled the officer. “Has the cat got your tongue?”

 

“Yessir,” she said. “It…it has…”

 

 

Half an hour later, Dawn was shaking her head in disbelief as she zipped up her skintight Medical Group shipboard uniform in the new cabin that she now shared on the Argo with Samantha Cleveland. It was white, with markings around the crotch, shouders, and upper sleeves and boot tops in bright red. A red cross was on her right breast, and she had been issued two new kits of gear that she didn’t understand. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw her transformation was almost complete. She looked just like an EDF flight nurse now. But she didn’t know what to do with her new pieces of equipment. One of them was an EDF belt. It had a holster on it. The holster had an astro-automatic in it.

 

“Did they make a mistake?” muttered Dawn as she looked at the belt on her bunk.

 

“No,” said Cleveland as she buckled on her belt. “We might be boarded. We might do a pickup in hostile territory.”

 

“I don’t know if I want to wear this,” said Dawn as she picked the belt up.

 

“Excuse me?” said a somewhat deep female voice as they noticed the hatch was open.

 

They both turned around. The woman who faced them was not young, but she was somewhat pretty.

 

She was short, with dark brown hair, and she wore an EDF nurse’s dress in a conservative cut, with a brown belt, weapon, and regular sturdy white pumps that looked a bit worn.

 

“I wanted to welcome you to to my section,” she said. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Penny Akers. Acting Head Nurse of the Argo.”

 

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” said Cleveland as she and Dawn saluted Akers and then followed up with handshakes after she returned their salute. Dawn cleared her throat and said, “Ma’am, with all respect, where is Lieutenant Commander Wildstar? I…I thought she would be welcoming us aboard. I’ve always wanted to meet her. And why are you the Acting Head Nurse, ma’am…?”

 

“You’ll find out when we tour every compartment in Medical for your orientation,” said Akers quietly. “As for you, Miss Westland, why aren’t you wearing your weapon?”

 

“I…uh…”

 

“You’d better put it on,” said Akers in a soft but no-nonsense voice. “Things can get mean out here fast.”

 

“Aye, ma’am,” said Dawn as she buckled on her weapon for the first time. Its weight on her hip felt very strange to her.

 

“We’ll have to make this first trip a bit quick,” said Akers. “The Captain wants to see all new arrivals at fourteen hundred on the port side observation deck.”

 

“Where is it?” asked Dawn.

 

“You’ll have five minutes to stidy your map of the ship when we get done,” said Akers. “This way.”

 

 

“You just saw the main operating suite and the central triage ward,” said Akers. “I’ve shown you Pathology, the medical labs, and the main examining room. Now, this section, people, is a vital but little-used part of Sickbay,” she said as she entered a compartment with pink bulkheads where they saw a nurse in clogs sitting in a chair studying a panel. “Regular internal Sickbay wear are those tunics and boots we issued to you. If you have other shoes, clogs or sandals in white you’re also authorized to wear those in Sickbay. You’ll be splitting your time between Sickbay and pickups; you’ll see the Medical boats later and will probably all do your checkout flights in the next day or so. We need to get you up to speed fast after our last battle.”

 

“Last battle?” said Dawn.

 

“Thirteen days ago,” said Akers. “It was a pretty nasty one, too.”

 

“What is this compartment?” said Dawn.

 

“It’s a long-term sleep chamber,” whispered Cleveland.

 

Samantha glanced at the young woman in her nurse’s tunic and boots sitting by the panel. “Tasha?” she said.

 

“Samantha?” said the brown-haired young woman as she looked up, and recognized her twin sister.

 

Both women laughed and hugged each other, rocking back and forth as Akers nodded, and took Dawn by the hand. “We have only two people in here at the moment,” said Akers. “Case one, Mechanical Group Ensign Terrence Rogers. In suspension since late September, and doing just fine. Needs treatment on Earth for radiation sickness.”

 

Then, Akers walked Dawn to the second tube, and Dawn’s mouth went open as she looked at the second case; a slender young woman in gold and black lying in her tube with a somewhat pregnant stomach.

 

“Case Two,” said Akers quietly. “Lieutenant Commander Nova Wildstar, the Living Group Leader and Head Nurse of the Argo. “

 

“What happened to her?” said Samantha Cleveland as she looked on in shock with Dawn.

 

Dawn looked at the sleeping form, hardly able to believe that the heroine she had admired for most of her life now looked pale and quiet in long-term sleep.

 

“Mrs. Wildstar has been under since mid-October,” said Akers quietly as she wiped away a tear from a corner of her eye. “She was poisoned by a knife thrown by Princess Invidia of the  Comet Empire. She and her unborn children needed to be operated on, but it could not be done here. She was put under so we can do it at the end of the deployment.”

 

“Oh,” said Dawn quietly.

 

Dawn and Samantha looked down at Nova’s sleeping form in silence for a moment, feeling oddly as if they were at a living person’s wake.

 

Dawn thought, Even there, she is wearing her weapon. She must have a reason. But why?

 

They stood quietly, not realizing it when someone else walked up behind them and looked down at the tube.

 

“She looks so peaceful,” said a quiet male voice. “I hope she is at peace.”

 

Samantha and Dawn turned around and immediately came to attention and saluted as they stood face to face with Commodore Derek Wildstar for the first time.

 

“I hate to intrude,” said Wildstar. “I’m just here to visit, Miss Akers.”

 

“Of course, sir,” said Akers as she saluted. “Cleveland, Westland, let’s leave them in peace. Tasha?”

 

“I’m done taking status readings, ma’am. All normal for both of them. I’ll leave with you.”

 

“Thanks,” said Derek as he pulled up a chair and sat alone by the tube, placing a hand tenderly on the cold tube.

 

“He visits with her every day,” said Akers in a quiet whisper. “When he comes down here, we just give the man his privacy with her. C’mon…”

 

At that, the nurses left.

 

 

At the same time, on his ship, Radnar sat in deep meditation.

 

He looked out at the stars, trying to touch the spirit of Arishna.

 

Radnar…..whispered a quiet voice.

 

“Who are you?” muttered the old man.

 

Do you not know me?, said a beautiful but foreboding phantom as she appeared outside in the stars, with her face masked behind her legendary mask.

 

“A…Arishna?” whispered Radnar as he knelt.

 

I am part of a reality you know little of, said Arishna. Yet, you no longer grieve me as much as you used to, Radnar. You give me a sign that there is hope for my children.

 

“Are you alive?”

 

I can never die, said Arishna. You can, and you do. Sometimes, you go into perdition. Sometimes, you touch redemption and live. Many paths, all lead to one Country above all Countries. A Realm above Realms. An Undiscovered Country…

 

“Show me the way, Arishna,” said Radnar as he trembled. “Are you truly she?”

 

Understanding of all peoples, of all beliefs, of all races. Little has that quality shown it among you, but it arises every now and then. You have the potential to grow. Young Trelaina and I let Zordar pass to his long home so he could return to the Cosmos. Where he went there was quite beyond my ken except that I know it was not…good…You may be headed to a different realm. I do not know yet. But, you have hope, Radnar. You give me reason to hope…

 

“Arisnha…”

 

In another universe, I put you and my children to sleep in a grave without dreams. Here, you can be different. Your ultimate fate? I do not know it. Any less than Zordar’s or Invidia’s or Desslok’s…

 

“Are you not a goddess?”

 

I am, and more, and yet less. More and less, Radnar. In this realm, you have much to learn. I have much to learn. What is a goddess? Hard to say. So many universes. So many visions, so many places…so much to learn, and little to know, and a reality at its heart no one has come to comprehend…

 

“And?”

 

We have much to learn, Radnar. Let me teach you, as I learn it….

 

“Thank you, Arishna…”

 

 

Later on, Dawn wandered down into the Argo’s main spacecraft hangar bay. She glanced at the boat she knew she was going to be assigned to, Medical Boat Tail Number 21107. She looked over the veteran medical boat for a bit before she saw a man in a Black Tiger uniform inspecting the landing gear of one of the Tigers.

 

She looked hard at him, barely able to believe her eyes.

 

“Hardy?” she said. “Jeff?”

 

He turned. “Dawn? Is that you?”

 

“Sure is,” said Dawn.

 

The two parted lovers laughed and gave each other a quick hug. “I was wonderin’ why you weren’t writin’ lately,” said Hardy.

 

“I’ve been busy,” said Dawn. “I told you about my WHO Commission…”

 

“But ah thought you didn’t like the space service,” said Hardy. “I was hopin’ maybe we’d get togetuh after the war, but…”

 

“I still don’t like it, but, well, I was drafted into service as a nurse after accepting my WHO Comission. I was training on Pluto for months. That’s why I didn’t have time to write much.”

 

“It sure explains it,” said Hardy. "Well, how about you and me going down to the wardroom, and you telling me how a pretty lady such as yourself got shipped out to a God-forsaken place such as this over a cup of space Jo?"

 

Dawn smiled, and said, "might as well." 

 

At that, the two of them walked off holding hands. Dawn thought, This might be a very interesting cruise….

 

 

Later, in the wardroom, they sat and went over the details of their last few months apart as they shared a cup of coffee each.

 

While they talked, they were briefly interrupted by the young woman who looked a bit like Nova. She introduced herself as Brittany Forrester, the Acting Living Group Leader of the Argo. She explained she was replacing Becker because of Becker’s wounds in the last battle they had been in, which had become infected. Becker was on her way back home on the Mount Rainier where she would head home for medical treatment, leave, and rest. Brittany took a little time to explain that Nova would have been on her way home, as well, if it were not for the fact that the flight home on even the Mount Rainier would have endangered her and their children.

 

“And unfreezing her and refreezing her so quickly would be sort of hazardous,” said Forrester as she smiled. “So, I’m here, but, you know, Becker is going home. I’ll do my best job.”

 

“Thanks,” said Hardy. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss.”

 

“Now, I’ll be going,” said Brittany with a smile. “You two look…like you want to be alone…”

 

“Yeah, no crap we want to be alone,” said Dawn as Hardy tried to keep from laughing. “Jeff, what’s so funny?”

 

“Ahhh…just reminds me of a very much youngah version of her cousin. She was a little laike that on the first cruise to Iscandar. Got her a cup of space Jo once…she said it wasn’t strong enough…”

 

“What about you?” said Dawn.

 

“I’ve missed coffee…donuts…the way you cross yoah legs…”

 

Dawn blushed a little at that. “Really?”

 

“Well, it is cute. Laike you…”

 

“Thanks,” said Dawn as she smiled. “What about your life lately?”

 

“Well, we were in a bad battle a few days back. I didn’t start it, of course. They did. We don’t go lookin’ foah trouble in the Black Tigahs. It finds us.”

 

“How bad was it?” said Dawn nervously.

 

“Some of the pilots that came off with you…are replacements for guys we lost. Only one got evacuated off the ship alive. The rest of them…”

 

“Jeff?”

 

“The rest of those men and women…are still out there,” said Hardy as he sighed. “I’ve lived a few years in this line of work. I may eventually have to find another as I get older if I’ll want to live…but…for now, flying’s in my blood.”

 

“How can something so deadly and dangerous get into your blood?” said Dawn.

 

“It just does. I like the flying. Not necessarily the killin’ part…gets a bit old after a while. I just live with it. But, pushing my bird to the limit…I still like that part. Guess it’s part of what keeps me alive out there. Of course, I had a few close calls. A couple of times where I could have died. But, I go on….”

 

“Same with me,” said Dawn. “This business of fighting out here in space is more deadly serious than I thought it was…”

 

“It always is,” said Hardy. “It always is…”

 

 

X. PASSING INTO A NEW YEAR

The Vicinity of Sirius

Space Battleship Argo

Wednesday, December 31, 2206

2324 Hours: Earthtime

Jefferson Hardy came onto the Argo’s port side observation deck, having just come back in from a patrol flight.

 

He was tired, but not so tired that he just wanted to go to bed without ringing in the New Year.

 

Music and colored lights filtered around the festive deck as crew members gathered around the (non-alcoholic) fruit punch that Brittany Forrester had made up and set out as Living Group Leader.

 

Hardy smiled as he watched Bryan and Angie Hartcliffe slow-dancing with each other near a table to a contemporary song. Not far away, Homer was gesticulating with a celery sprig as he shared a conversation with Eager.

 

At another table, Tatiana Lubyanska was sitting across from Diane Henson, with both of them laughing and punching each other in the arms as they shared a joke.

 

The world suddenly went dark as Hardy felt hands going over his eyes.

 

“Hey!” he laughed. “Who tuhned out the lights?”

 

“Guess?” said Dawn in a whisper as she kissed the back of Hardy’s head.

 

She withdrew her hands and stepped in front of him and did a little pirouette. It looked as if she had just pulled on a light green turtleneck top over her nurses’ white minidress, which she wore with her open-toe clogs, but it looked like a nice party outfit thrown together at short notice.

 

“You look good,” said Hardy with a smile.

 

“A girl has to dress up a little on New Years’ Eve, even if it isn’t much,” said Dawn as she gave him a kiss.

 

Hardy kissed back. They got up to dance a little and share some punch.

 

Not far away, Commodore Wildstar sat at a table with Sandor, shaking his head sadly as he looked at Hardy and Dawn.

 

“They look so much in love, Steve,” he sighed.

 

“What’s wrong with that?” he said. “They’ve been naturally attracted to each other. It’s about time for Jeff. He took it so hard after Mio Hoshiyama was killed years ago.”

 

“That should have been Nova and I,” said Derek in a quiet voice. “She’d be…what….seven and a half months pregnant now? Still, she’d find a way to dance with me tonight. Even if she’d have to kick off her shoes to do it.”

 

“Against regs,” said Steve.

 

“I wouldn’t have cared,” said Derek as tears ran down his cheeks. He pulled his Naval cap down low over his eyes so that no one would see his red eyes in a few minutes when he would have to stand up and give the traditional Captain’s speech. A speech he didn’t feel like making tonight.

 

As the music turned slow, and Hardy and Dawn danced close, Wildstar looked at his wrist chrono.

 

“It’s time, Steve,” he said.

 

Wildstar walked up to a cart where Doctor Sane was standing next to Brittany Forrester, who looked surprised. “I didn’t know we allowed this,” said Brittany. “I never knew we…”

 

“C’mon,” said Doctor Sane. “Live a little, Brittany. These are just little glasses of my Spring Water for everyone to drink…”

 

“This Spring Water smells like it is 180 proof,” said Brittany as she wrinkled up her nose while Derek tried to keep from laughing and crying at the same time. He remembered that her cousin had had a similar reaction back when 2199 had turned into 2200 on the Argo and Doctor Sane had pulled the same trick then. Derek knew what he would do with his toast. He quietly took one cup and set another aside on a table.

 

Soon, Sane called the revellers up as the glasses were handed out.

 

Finally, the compartment grew quiet as everyone watched the digital chronometers as they ticked forward to 23:57:00.00/12-31-06.

 

Wildstar raised his tiny cup once and spoke. “Gentlemen and ladies,” he said. “Now, we have made our way through a very tough year of war. We have fought hard, and we have lost many of our friends, while making new ones. All of you have been a great crew this year. No one could have asked for a finer crew than all of you. Now, I wish all of you a good New Year as we toast to the old year that is passing away, and the New Year that will soon be upon us.”

 

Wildstar looked at the chronos and raised his cup again as the chrono read 23:59:50.00/12-31-06.

 

Then, he called out, “In memory of Captain Avatar, and the other members of the Star Force with us not in body but in spirit, and to Earth, we drink tonight!”

 

He held the cup to his lips as the crew counted down the last seconds of 2206. Then, when the chronos hit 23:59:59.59/12-31-06, they all drank together as most of the crew yelled “KAMPAI!” and laughed as the year 2206 flew forever into the past.

 

But, Wildstar took only a small sip as the chrono now read 00:03.32.21/01-01-07.

 

The crew cheered and began to sing “Scarlet Scarf” together as Derek nodded to them, saluted, and left, taking the second cup in his hand.

 

He knew where he was going. And he couldn’t stand to hear that song sung right now. He blocked it out of his mind as the crew began to sing, “See the girl, she’s waving to you….a scarf, so bright and red…as  you race, into the blue, she is waving, waving to you…”

 

It had been her favorite.

 

 

A few minutes later, Derek Wildstar sat alone in the long-term sleep chamber with Nova.

 

One cup was on top of her sleep tube.

 

The other was in Derek’s hand.

 

“Well, Nova, I guess it’s just you, me, and the kids,” he said as he looked at the sleeping form as tears blurred his eyes. “You’re missing New Years’ Eve, my love. You always liked the holidays, so much. It means nothing to me, this year, not in this war…and not without you there. I didn’t want to drink our toast without you, so, here we go. Kampai, Nova!”

 

Derek then drank his toast, and then he drank Nova’s cup for her.

 

Then, he draped himself over the cold tube and wept as Nova continued to sleep.

 

Sandor found him like that ten minutes later. Steve helped him up off the tube, made sure the sensors were working properly, made sure none of Nova’s sleeping life signs had changed, and then, he and Doctor Sane both walked the crying Captain back up to his cabin to bed.

 

And, that was how the New Year began for Wildstar. In bitter tears.

 

He did not know it yet, but the next New Years’ Eve Party he would be at would be very different.

 

 

END

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK SIX: RADNAR’S GAME. COMING SOON!

 

To Return to the Introduction to The New Comet, click here