Shortly before the humans escape, Jardzen Dzor makes it to the bridge. His spine is aching, even with a regenerator on. He had three of the humans in his actual grasp, and they managed to defeat him. Perhaps these mammals truly are more formidable than he gave them credit for.
However, they are fleeing aboard one of his own shuttles. And, he is finally done playing games. He snarls, “{Ready all cannons. We shall sow the stars with their disgusting fur.}” He winces in pain as he tries to climb into his seat.
His navigation officer cries out, “{Yarjen! The Falight drive! I… I can’t shut it off!}”
“{EXPLAIN!}” roars Dzor.
“{We’re about to jump! Destination unknown!}”
Dzor is stunned for a moment. That moment was a moment too long. Just as he bellows, “{DROP POWER!}”, the screens are flooded with white light, going dark as they overload.
Dzor roars in helpless, enraged fury. Filthy, lesser evolved mammals outwitted him as well? How could this be possible? They still practice government handouts. They have differing languages and nations. They still use rocket fuels and solid projectile ammunition. And, they still reproduce out of control. They are MAMMALS. On Grodurra, they are food. Nothing more. Even on their world, mammals are food.
Jardzen Dzor slumps into his command chair. The pain in his back doesn’t register a sound from him. He is completely speechless.
If they kill power now, the ship will disintegrate when the protective bubble dissolves and they impact even photons and space dust at speeds normally impossible for solid matter alone. And sadly, Dzor is still considering it. They wouldn’t even know it had happened, it would be so instantaneous. They would suddenly be nothing more than cosmic dust; a memory in the universe inconsequential to its design and forgotten by all but a few.
But then, Dzor was a poet as a hatchling. Now, he is a Baskylla Jardzen. His duty is to the Fievegal, and then his crew. If he draws breath, he will serve them before himself. He sits back, meditating silently as they warp across space. Only time will tell where they have been warped to.
Six hours pass before his crew regains control of his ship’s systems. For six hours, the humans have had control of his ship, without a single one of them even on board. Doors wouldn’t open, rooms wouldn’t pressurize, and the Falight drive wouldn’t decelerate. By now, they’re probably halfway across a second or third solar system beyond the human system.
The engineering and navigation teams coordinate to initiate proper emergency deceleration, which still carries risks, but much less than the shell dissolving. The ship decelerates, and the virtual field assembles celestial bodies around them while the screens stabilize before recycling. They are inside the heliosphere of a large star, but probably still at the extreme edge of its effective pull, meaning they just ‘crossed into’ this solar system’s boundary. Still, until visuals are restored and manual navigation can be performed, they are as good as in empty space. The computer navigation relies on the gravionic pulse generator to precisely map celestial bodies prior to a jump, and keeps track of all known celestial bodies by relative travel. However, Falight is not an exact science, and while they are untouched by time dilation and can travel unfathomable distances in reasonable times without hundreds of years passing them by, they also are helpless against quantum slopes, magnetohydrodynamics of the space medium, and singularities, which have the strongest gravitational pull in the known universe. A ‘perfect’ jump usually drifts from the effects of MHD and quantum slopes by several astronomical units, and so the computer navigation will think they are somewhere much further away than they are. Just travelling to Earth took dozens of stops to remap to ensure they didn’t drift off course by lightyears at a time. So, while the computer is displaying a virtual starmap around them, Dzor’s only accurate indications are the radiation levels consistent with the internals of a heliosphere for a given star, consistent solar wind direction readings, and a light but steady gravitational pull.
Dzor asks, “{Communication status?}”
His comms officer replies, “{Quantum entanglement still establishing connection, Yarjen.}”
He nods. Grodrrn history describes the initial Falight jumps and how the ship would be dead in space entirely, costing an entire crew. The next versions would be helpless for hours, as they had a second power core that was off, but EVERYTHING about it had to be done manually to resume power to the ship. They’ve come a long way to have virtualizing radar to give them ‘eyes’ when they drop out of a jump, and shielding to keep the power cores stable, and only minutes of downtime on the visual screens. Perhaps, someday, they’ll even be at full capacity when completing a jump.
For now, Dzor waits the several minutes. He was so close to unlimited glory and fame. Humility always hits hardest following a defeat.
Soon enough, everything is back up, and his crew begins mapping. They must use celestial positions, angles, and constellations to try to determine approximately where they are. Once they get closer to other Fievegal ships, they can receive more accurate positional data.
Khla’s face appears on the communication screen. Dzor’s colleague states civilly, “{Yarjen Jor. Fortune has graced us with your survival.}”
Dzor flexes his lips, irritated by his teeth being clenched. He replies humbly, “{You were right, Craw. I should have heeded your warning.}”
Khla simply nods, remarking, “{What’s the status of the human fleet? Your ship?}”
Dzor puts his chin on his fist, replying disappointedly, “{Their fleet is intact. Minus your transport, plus one of my shuttles. We’re down our pulse generator and crew, primarily. The humans… They were able to hijack our systems, Craw.}”
“{Our sun shines no brighter than yours. We’ve recovered only a handful of humans. Many died immediately from radiation sickness, and many more appear to be elders. We will try to breed them, but we will likely still need the human fleet.}”
Dzor retorts sarcastically, “{There MUST be another species we can use. One less troublesome than these pesky humans.}”
“{Human biology is perfect, unfortunately. Better than our own, even, for our own needs. All other known species can’t adapt or are hostile to our biology.}”
Dzor adds with a huff. “{Incredible that the same filthy aliens potentially destroying our race are also the only ones that can save it.}”
Khla asks, “{Where are the humans now?}”
Dzor replies, looking away, disgusted that he has to answer, “{Within six hours of my last known position, before our jump.}”
Khla shakes his head, “{We have no positional data on you. It’s… scrambled. Like you’re actively jumping to and from every point in the galaxy. Even now.}”
Surprised, Dzor can only put his head back. HOW? How did the humans so thoroughly get the better of him? Of TWO of the greatest commandants in the Fievegal?
He replies solemnly, “{Is your pulse generator back up?}”
“{No. And, the rest of the Fievegal reinforcements decided to hold off on our reports. They’re somewhere in the [Deneb] solar system.}”
Dzor hisses through his nostrils. He was a week behind Khla due to an engine malfunction. But, they were deployed at the same time. They’re reconnaissance, though. If both of their ships dropped out of contact for more than a week, the fleet would arrive in force. But, Dzor and Khla were expected to succeed without a need for the humans to know what they’re up against.
Now, they need every possible pulse generator to pinpoint the human fleet. Every second they flee emboldens an already dangerous foe. Dzor looks at the tiny bud of his regenerating hand, growling, “{We need a pulse generator as soon as possible.}” He ponders the crafty mammals and their insane-seeming mission. They sacrificed a short range transport for a long range shuttle. Did they know? Was their mission merely to find a way to delay Dzor’s ship? Or…
He growls, “{They have a Falight drive. And, I suspect they know that.}”
Khla nods, replying civilly, “{I suspected that when you said they took a shuttle.}”
“{It should take months, though, yes? For them to reverse engineer it?}”
Khla scratches his chin and neck, thinking. He replies thoughtfully, “{I’m not so sure. I looked through the archives again over this last week. From what we know, the human missile was launched about 20 cycles before it hit. It took us about that to find and reach their world; the bulk of that being the search. From then, until now, we’ve been cataloging what survived, and they’ve made many theoretical leaps in their sciences; leaps that took us decades to achieve each. Their limits seem to be regulatory, primarily; mired by ethics committees and politicians. As the stone rolls, many of the humans we’ve captured were politicians. They started exhaling information the moment we captured them, without any threats or questioning.}”
Dzor scoffs, remarking sarcastically, “{THAT is the human behavior I was expecting. How do such small, frail primitives differ so widely?}”
Khla chuckles, “{Who knows? I’m a little relieved these ones are elders. My teeth curl thinking about the notion of the Saurmynnyka inheriting their personalities.}”
Dzor grunts in disgust, remarking, “{If that’s a concern, we need to be extra diligent.}”
“{Indeed.}” Khla receives a report, and he states, “{Our fleet is inbound. Can you navigate back into range?}”
The humbled Jardzen nods, replying, “{We’re manually plotting position now. I’ll alert you before and after we jump.}”
Khla replies with a civil nod, “{Suns keep you warm.}”
“{You too.}”
Khla disconnects, and Dzor watches his crew work. The vector angles and calculations are numerous, and they have to be cross-referenced to the others to ensure the stars being used are what they think. It’s tedious and time consuming, but crucial.
But, Dzor’s mind is actually on the humans that just bested them. They don’t fight for glory the way Grodrrns do. The humans worked fluidly together to not only fight, but achieve objectives. Grodrrn culture is very ‘me’-centric in most regards. Every job being performed in front of him now, while serving the Fievegal, is still a chance to better oneself. The human Dzor dragged could have fled when his attention was on the younger male or the female. Their mission was complete, or soon would have been. Instead, he risked his wellbeing to save the younger two.
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It all likely had to go the way it did. The rest of the Fievegal wouldn’t have listened to Khla alone any more attentively than Dzor did. Given what the humans DID do, he is certain he is very fortunate to still have a ship.
And now, he has better wisdom with which to face this unpredictable adversary. He smirks as he ponders their next meeting. In every failure is a chance for greater glory. And, the humans are proving themselves worthy of elevating those who defeat them to legendary status.
Baskylla Jardzen Nor’ulluch Et Dzor’chn will NOT miss out on that.
********
Captain Long stands with an envoy as the alien shuttle lands gingerly in the hangar, having gently released the escape pod on the deck first. She left her XO to become Captain of the Honolulu, and then she took command of the Polonia.
They were standing by to evacuate the Polonia if the pursuers opened fire, but they never did. Their pursuit behavior suggests they intended to capture all of the ships if possible. Instead, a small team may have just saved humanity.
In the hangar with her are Lieutenant Colonel Hitch, the small girl ‘Little Bird’ with her guardian Tanya, a young woman named Kenzie, and scores of marines and sailors with tasks assigned as soon as the hatches open. Given the circumstances, the captains agreed that full quarantine measures won’t be necessary, since a week after direct contact yielded no immediate biological hazards. However, to be safe, the ship will be cleansed thoroughly, stripped of all weapons and tools to be studied, and reverse engineered piece by piece, starting with FTL.
“Angelica,” says Mr. Right’s voice warmly as he approaches. “Beautiful as ever.”
She growls coldly without looking at him, “Captain Long.”
“Yes, yes of course,” he retorts. “On duty and whatnot. How’d we do?”
She replies more civilly, “Preliminary success. It’s up to your teams now, Mr. Right.”
“Mind if I flatter you?”
She sighs, “Fine.”
He smiles and immediately steps forward, yelling, “Listen up, uh, hands! That’s not your dad’s pickup or your girlfriend’s headboard! It is the Ark of the Covenant meets the Mona Lisa meets the Holy Grail meets… A bunch of other impossible to get stuff! If you break something, I MUST know where it was. If you activate something, touch NOTHING else. If you scratch the paint off a bolt, show me. EVERYTHING on that ship is precious, down to the alien’s toenails if there are any. Take this seriously. If you’re not comfortable touching something, DON’T TOUCH IT.”
Mr. Right puts his hands on his hips and says, “There.”
Captain Long asks dryly, “And… How was that supposed to flatter me?”
“Imitation, obviously. You know? Giving a powerful speech to everyone all at once. No?”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Hitch offers in a slightly friendly, but mostly serious tone, “I think you forgot to add ‘Let’s get to work,’ Sir.”
Mr. Right snaps his fingers, pointing at the Lt. Col. warmly. “You’re right. Apologies, An-I mean- Captain Long.”
She ignores Mr. Right to say to Hitch, “Don’t encourage him, Lieutenant Colonel, please?”
Mr. Right gently pats Hitch’s shoulder, saying brightly, “See that? My charms are working. Professionals always say that when it’s working.” He claps his hands before Long can say anything, and he adds, “Now! Show me your goodies.”
Long sighs. She steps forward, her voice projecting more powerfully than Mr. Right’s with seemingly half the effort, “Priority one; medical team! Make a hole. Priority two; gear removal. Priority three; cleaning. Let’s-…” She halts herself, glancing at Mr. Right and then at Hitch. She states, “Make it happen!”
Mr. Right feigns a dramatic and ecstatic groan as the shuttle doors open. The medical team quickly works with the returning shuttle marines to lower a body. The medical team whisks the injured man away, and Mr. Right asks, “Was that Zock?”
He looks at Hitch, who nods.
The marines inside begin offloading weapons with those helping with various carts. They’ve returned with an abundance of alien gear still giving off heat waves of heavy use. Captain Long approaches to assist, joining a bucket brigade to pass weapons and armor to carts or out of the way locations.
Mr. Right inspects one of the carts like a child in a toy store. Sergeant Grey warns from the shuttle, “Careful with that, Mr. Science. We ain’t found the safeties yet.”
Mr. Right turns pale, setting the weapon back down. The marines chuckle.
Long asks, “You reported two injured, Sergeant.”
Grey replies, “Rookie’s still in the cockpit with Doc Lopez. She’s downloading everything from the shuttle.”
“What’s he doing?”
Grey retorts, “Napping, Ma’am.” She glares up at him, and he adds, “He’s the Doc’s button pusher, Ma’am. He insists he can hold out a little longer.”
Long growls sternly, “Tell him I’m ordering him to go to medical RIGHT…”
A young woman’s voice says softly, “Big sis…”
Captain Long halts and looks at the young auburn haired woman that approached. She asks, “Jessica?”
Jessica says gently, “They all worked very hard for all of us. They still are.”
Captain Long looks at the marines still helping unload the shuttle they commandeered. Their hair is matted with sweat. Their suits are spattered with black scoring and metal dust. Their faces are weary, with dark rings under their eyes. She relaxes when she realizes who she’s looking at. They’re not just soldiers marching in parade or sailors running drills. These are warriors fresh off the battlefield.
Captain Long has been a career sailor for a long time now. Much of her experience involved basic naval patrols or passive sovereignty denial through presence. She’s never dealt so directly with warfare, nor those facing impossible odds face to face. And, never during such desperate times.
Captain Long sighs. She says calmly, “I’m getting in the way… Boarding Party!” The marines perk up and look up at her. She says more calmly, “Excellent work.” She salutes them and then turns crisply to Jessica, saying softly, “You’re right.” Jessica smiles, and the older sister says a little more sternly, “Which is why you’re joining the Navy. We need level headed leaders like you.”
Jessica frowns, replying softly, “No… I’m… I’m not cut out for…”
“Not up for discussion. If you hadn’t come to visit me on your own, you’d be…” The captain halts, gently gripping the cross on her shoulder. She redirects, saying gently, “I want to do the best I can for you. And… that means pushing you to do something invaluable. You’re better than me at everything when I was your age. And…” The captain sighs, adding, “You can stop me at any time…”
Jessica smiles and replies bluntly, “I know. But it’s nice to see this side of you. Nice to be reminded that you HAVE this side of you.” She hugs the surprised captain, saying gently, “I’ll do it, Big Sis. But ME. NOT your reputation.”
Captain Long sighs and embraces her younger sister. She replies gently, “That will be far more than plenty, Cottonpuff.”
The teen growls quietly, “If ONE person calls me that, I WILL tell every marine what everyone always called you, Big Sis.”
The Captain teases softly in return, “I’d hate to court martial you before you even join… Cottonpuff.”
********
Hancock listens to Grey and Tachibana as they debrief the marines. Grey says warmly, “Good work staying alive, marines, and taking down as many crocs as we did. I think it’s fair to say we all earned a good rest.” The marines chuckle together.
Tachibana nods and adds warmly, “Agreed. Science teams have the ball now. All we can do is stay ready for our next mission. Hydrate, rest, and muster at oh-seven hundred.”
Lieutenant Kane adds politely, “Couldn’t say it better myself. Thank you all.”
Tachibana nods. “Alpha Squad; Romeo Squad; dis-missed!”
The marines cheer, “Oorah!” and disperse.
Hancock glances at Dr. Lopez as she sits quietly with her laptop folded shut. She’s staring at nothing in particular. He asks gently, “Shall we?”
She looks at him briefly and then back at her point in infinity. She replies softly, “Do… people keep their promises?”
He’s caught off guard by the question. “I… think so? Or, at least, I believe most people do their best to do so.”
“What would you do if someone broke a promise?”
Picking up what he thinks she’s getting at, Hancock replies, “Levi, I’ll keep my promise. If you ask for help, I’ll help.”
She whispers, “I believe you. But, Mr.… ” She trails off, losing heart to say whatever she was about to. She instead says, “We should go to medical.” She glances apologetically at his injured arm.
The young marine replies casually, “Ah, I’m sure I’ll walk it off.” She chuckles halfheartedly, still deep in thought.
After another moment, she finally asks, “Will… she be mad if I walk with you?”
Hancock shrugs as much as one arm allows, replying, “I don’t see her being mad about that. We’re friends, right?”
Lopez nods. “I just… You’re my f-… I don’t…”
“It’s fine. Actually, I could use your help up, if you don’t mind.”
Lopez sits nervously a moment. The subtle cue hits her though, and she quickly scrambles up. She shoulders her laptop’s strap and takes Hancock’s hand. He could probably have gotten up on his own, but he doesn’t mind receiving a hand from time to time. Lopez pulls him to his feet, and they walk together out of the ship, which is already crawling with marines and sailors cleaning.
Kenzie is waiting, and she helps both of them down. She gingerly hugs Hancock, obviously warned of his injury by one of the squad members. She asks tenderly, “Are you okay?”
Hancock smiles, “Yes, Ma’am. Won’t be winning any MMA fights any time soon, but I’m hanging in there.”
She giggles softly, “Okay. They said you guys accomplished all of the objectives you set out to. D-… Does this mean…?”
“Time will tell. But, this here is Doctor Lopez. She made our mission possible. Doc, this is Kenzie.”
Kenzie replies a little sheepishly, “I thought you looked familiar. THE Doctor Lopez? I’m humbled. Very nice to meet you.”
Lopez fidgets with her hands, glancing up from the floor only once to nod nervously, and then stare at the floor again. Hancock says gently, “Doc’s quiet, but she’s good people.”
Kenzie smiles and nods, replying sincerely, “Thank you for what you’ve done, Doctor. Everyone’s saying we only have a chance thanks to you.”
Lopez whimpers quietly and sheepishly, “Th-That’s not true… W-We all…” She becomes inaudible as her face turns bright pink.
Hancock, sensing it’s becoming too much for the shy scientist, feigns a sudden pain like his arm was bumped and grunts lightly, saying, “Egh, okay, hate to interrupt. I need to get to medical. Doc, will you walk with us?”
She glances up at him and nods. She stares quietly at the floor though as they walk. However, medical is surprisingly crowded when they arrive, and Lopez excuses herself by squeaking, “Um… I’ll… I… I’ll che-check on y-you later, R-um, Hancock. Th-Thank you.”
“Thank you, too, Doc. Get some rest, please. You earned it.” He offers his hand. She nervously fidgets with her laptop for a moment before finally shaking it. He says warmly, “You ever need anything, I’m sure you’ll find some way to reach me.”
She smiles softly and nods. She disappears quickly, making a beeline for wherever her lab is.
Kenzie asks softly as they wait to be seen, “How did you become friends with Mr. Right’s… eh… right hand scientist?”
Hancock jokes, “What can I say? I’m a charmer.”
Kenzie scoffs and replies, “So, you saved her. What happened?”
Hancock replies more genuinely, “I only talked to her. Got her to talk back. Kept us both sane during the mission.”
“I had no idea she was so shy and awkward. Everyone always seems to assume she’s too full of herself to talk, even though she’s so high up the G-sink food chain.”
“Thank you for not being upset or anything. She’s a good person.”
“Of course.”
Hancock proceeds to tell the story of the mission, often finding himself pausing to convince himself it all really happened. The attack on Earth is one thing, but now, humanity has already struck back, securing hope.
And, Hancock has watched enough kids movies and animes to know that hope is the deadliest weapon human beings will ever wield against their enemies. If even one human refuses to go down without a fight, the battle can be won.
Today was the second battle for humanity’s future. Both have only accomplished one thing if only in one young rookie marine. They have hardened his resolve to be that last human fighting, if need be.
And, he KNOWS he’s not alone.
********