Battle at Zero Point (19 page)

Multx was stumped for a moment. "You really went…
there
?"

Both nodded. Then they drew a bit closer to him. They were in a hurry.

"Brother Multx, we are messengers," Erx told him. "And part of the news we carry is grim. But with your help, certain disaster might be avoided. Or at least its effects lessened."

"But we are also here to present you with an opportunity," Berx went on. "An opportunity to be a hero of great caliber again. To once more prove your courage is beyond all measure. When the history of the man is finally written, your name will appear among the pantheon of heroes. All you have to do is one thing…"

Multx was stunned by these strong words. "What nonsense is this?" he asked. "I am simply a flicker of light in a sea of stars these days. The Imperial Court doesn't even remember that I exist anymore!"

"They don't have to," Erx told him calmly. "We know you exist. Just do as we ask, and you will regain your stature and more. Much more."

Multx collapsed back into his floating chair. He wanted nothing more than to rehabilitate his image.

But frankly, his two old friends were frightening him. Their appearance, their glow, the vision they'd just created and then taken away. They had changed in ways he wasn't sure he wanted to contemplate.

Still…

He looked out at the grand waterfall. At that moment, he hated every drop of water falling over its side and splashing onto the fake lake below. Every drop, every day, day after day, going nowhere but down. Just about anything would be better than this.

"Brothers," he finally said, "tell me what it is you want me to do."

Erx and Berx both smiled with relief. Then Erx touched Multx's forehead, leaving a drop of oil there.

"You will know soon enough, brother," he said. Then they faded away.

Betavilie, Planet America, Home Planets System

FBI agent Lisa Lee returned to her office after lunch to find her secretary looking a bit flustered.

At first Lisa thought Gloria was upset at her because she'd failed to bring her back a Coke as she'd promised. Their office was on the third floor of the tiny Betavilie police station— Lisa was the FBI field agent for this part of Ohio—and even though they'd been here nearly eight months, a few kinks remained. Getting the soda machine on the first floor to work was just one of them.

While still a sleepy little town, Betavilie was also a very famous place these days. It was here that the three visitors from outer space first arrived almost a year ago. It was they who passed on the knowledge that Planet America, as well as the other thirty-five worlds in the Home Planets system, was really part of a long-neglected prison camp in the sky set up thousands of years before by the very evil Second Empire. This celestial prison was trapped inside a time bubble that retarded technical advancement but allowed the unknowing inmates to live a civilized if antiquated way of life. Planet America had cars and factories and highways and railroads. It had cops and firefighters, priests and politicians. Post offices, sports teams, grammar schools, high schools, and colleges could all be found here. The tiny planet consisted of one large landmass that began in the east with cities like Boston, New York, Charleston, and Miami, and went right across to California, where the other West Coast states also lay. Across a very narrow sea was New York again. It was an artificial world, recreated in the image of the place that its first inhabitants had been forced from 4,000 years before. The people of Planet America were the descendants of those original deportees from Earth.

The three visitors changed everything. Not only did they bring the news of the origin of the Home Planets, they defeated the prison guard army who'd been watching over the three dozen imprisoned worlds, then raised a space army of their own and sailed off to win Earth back for its rightful owners.

That army was called the United Planets Forces. The six ships they'd sailed on were known, on Planet America at least, as the First Fleet.

Those half dozen vessels had left nearly eight months before; nothing had been heard from them since. Forty thousand soldiers representing each of the thirty-six planets, flying under the Stars and Stripes of Planet America's flag, were out in the cosmos somewhere, fighting a great battle for all of them back here. They were gone but not forgotten. Indeed, American flags had been strung from every light pole, every front porch, every overpass, from the top of every high city building in the entire system when the fleet sailed. Those flags were still flying today.

That these young soldiers were so far away, fighting and dying for the people back home had not been forgotten here.

Lisa was out of the Chicago FBI office, and as Betaville had become a place of notoriety, the Bureau thought it wise to open a field office here. Lisa had played such a significant part in the space visitors' first appearance—she had been the original investigating agent after they arrived—so it was only natural she be put in charge of the small office.

It had been a success so far, but there were these little glitches that had to be worked out, and one of them was the chronic malfunctioning of the first-floor soda machine. It worked only sporadically; today it was shut down for good.

And had Lisa been a gambler, she would have bet that no Coke was the reason for Gloria's obvious discomfit now.

But it was a bet Lisa would have lost.

She began to apologize to Gloria, but the middle-aged woman gently stopped her.

"There's someone waiting for you in your office," Gloria told her in a whisper.

Lisa didn't understand. She had eaten her lunch, as always, out on the bench next to the only working door leading into the police station. She had seen no one come into the building except the usual gang of cops. How could someone be waiting for her in her office then?

"Who is it?" Lisa whispered back.

"He asked me not to tell," was the secretary's reply, still a little breathy. That's when Lisa noticed Gloria had a drop of oil on her forehead.

"Are you using a new moisturizer?" Lisa asked her.

Gloria just shook her head no, then motioned for Lisa to get inside her office immediately.

Lisa just shrugged. She was a pretty redhead and always tried to look her best. So she flattened out her skirt, fluffed her collar, ran a hand through her hair, and walked into her office.

Her visitor was standing behind the door. She was completely in the room and turned around before she saw him.

"
Oh my God
…" she breathed.

He was enormous. Much bigger than she remembered him. And he looked so
different
. There was a white haze surrounding him, and he seemed just a bit out of focus, or better put, seemed to be existing in a kind of soft focus. But still, even in this state, his muscles looked huge.

She knew who he was immediately. He was another visitor from outer space. Not one of the original three. This man had come to Planet America right after the victory against the Bad Moon Knights' prison guard army. At the time, he was the oldest man Lisa had ever met. But now, he looked about a thousand years younger.

His name was Klaaz.

"Do you remember me?" he asked her sweetly, his voice different, too.

"Of course I do," she told him, nearly collapsing in her chair. "How could I forget? Your friends freed our planet. Then you helped build the UPF First Fleet."

Klaaz just smiled. "I tried to help where I could," he said.

Lisa was still staring at him, amazed at his transformation. When she'd last seen him, he was bent over, had wrinkles on top of wrinkles, and could barely walk. Now he was standing straight up, with large, broad shoulders, enormously powerful hands, and an extremely handsome face. It was like looking at a photograph from the very distant past and realizing for the first time that the person you knew as ancient had once been a very handsome man. A hunk, even.

Yet here he was, standing before her. That hunk, in real life.

"Why are you here?" she asked him, a little breathless herself now. "Everyone thinks you're with the fleet, off fighting in the Galaxy somewhere."

"And they would not be wrong," Klaaz told her. "But something rather important has come up, something that must be taken care of. I came here because I know I can trust you. Please, can you tell me the status of the Second Fleet?"

The Second Fleet was another UPF squadron of ships that had been under construction since the first one left. It was being manufactured, in bits and pieces, on just about every planet in the system, this, as another army of UPF troopers was being trained. The new force was meant to be purely defensive in nature, however. Both ships and men were intended to serve as protection for the very out-of-the-way Home Planets system.

"The last I heard, the Second Fleet was about a month away from trials in space," Lisa told him. She was finally over the initial shock of his sudden appearance and the slightly ethereal look about him.

"And the state of the army being raised?" he asked.

"About the same. A month away from activation."

Klaaz thought a moment. "This will all have to be moved up," he said finally. "The ships and the soldiers must be ready to leave within twenty-four hours."'

Lisa was confused. "Leave? Why?"

'They are needed elsewhere," Klaaz replied. "Urgently needed…"

Lisa shook her head. "I'm no expert in these things," she said. "But I'd have to think that would be almost impossible."

Klaaz smiled again, a little sadly though. "My dear girl," he said. "I've just recently learned that
nothing
is impossible. And I know this is suddenly out of the blue. But I will need your help to get these things done."

"But why?" she asked him. "Why are these ships and men needed?"

"Because a great battle is coming," he told her simply. "Perhaps one of the greatest since the Creation."

"Since Creation? Are you serious?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, I am. The opposing sides will be like the elements of Nature itself, battling each other for the right to exist. In the very old days, this might have been called Armageddon. And, at this point, the outcome is still very uncertain. But I will tell you this: no matter what happens, things will never be the same again. Here or anywhere else in the Galaxy. The universe, even. Such is the message I have brought today."

Lisa was shocked by his words. And she had no doubt that he believed they were the truth.

"But where?" she asked him. "Where will this great battle take place?"

Klazz simply gestured over his shoulder to indicate a place far, far away.

"Closer to Earth than I ever thought I'd be," he told her.

Word soon flashed around the tiny planet that Klaaz had returned.

Within hours, authorities on each of the Home Planets had been apprised of the situation and the message he had brought.

The ships of the Second Fleet were being assembled on Planet America and Planet France, using components from all the other home worlds. Troops were training on Planets Pacifica, Africanus and Britannica. Of the twenty-eight ships under construction, two dozen were deemed spaceworthy. Each ship was built in the spitting image of the six original UPF vessels, which in turn were more than 1,000 years old. These new classics were blue and chrome like their predecessors but were carrying more modern star engines and room for nearly twice as many soldiers, many of whom doubled as members of the crew. Fully manned, the ships could put nearly a quarter of a million men on the field of battle.

But there was a problem.

The ships were powered by updated ion-ballast motors, fast but not Supertime fast. As the Home Planets were actually thousands of light-years
outside
the Galaxy, the trip by the first UPF fleet inward had taken six months—and that was just to the tip of the Two Arm. The voyage had strained the limits of those antique ships and just about expended their bingo fuel in the process. If the great battle was shaping up deep within the Milky Way, what good would the Second Fleet be if it arrived on the scene many months too late?

During the flurry of meetings Klaaz had with the leaders of the Home Planets, as well as the engineers and the crews of the new fleet themselves, this question came up time and time again. On each occasion, Klaaz replied, "Don't worry." Getting the ships where they had to go was his concern.

There was little fanfare when the new ships departed from their launch pads on Planets America and France.

Little time was available to plan anything more than a quick good-bye to the soldiers from their families and a universal, system-wide wish of Godspeed and good luck. The twenty-four ships made rendezvous in orbit around Planet America; here, they were checked out for spaceflight integrity. That they would be traveling much greater distances than had previously been thought had little bearing now.

As Klaaz had told the system's leaders, this was not something they had to worry about.

While the soldiers inside the ships acclimated themselves to life in space, a first for many of them, their commanders reviewed the information Klaaz had passed to them. The situation was simple enough. In its battles within the Galaxy, the UPF had made an archenemy in the Empire's military, most especially the Solar Guards, and even more especially the almost ghostly Rapid Engagement Fleet. This was the force the Second Fleet was expecting to fight way down in the middle of the Two Arm.

And they would be a formidable foe. The enemy force awaiting the fresh UPF troops might number anywhere from a half million to several billion men. The number of ships they might face could run into the millions as well. But Klaaz was also always quick to remind the new UPF commanders that their mission would be "blessed." And though he did not go into any details, Klaaz did say on many occasions that he was not using the word lightly and that it should not just be taken in a context of simply boosting morale.

The Second Fleet would literally be blessed. Their mission was for pure good, and its intentions were even grander than the recovery of Earth, though both goals, were still absolutely linked.

The UPF commanders didn't pretend to fully understand what Klaaz was telling them. They knew only that he was a great hero and that he was someone who would never steer them wrong.

In other words, they trusted him completely, a trait that was in drastically low supply among the stars these days.

The twenty-four ships all checked out within a few hours of reaching orbit around Planet America.

One good thing about the ships' design was their brilliant simplicity. They were essentially quarter-mile-long hulls with engines attached and soldiers inside. Fewer systems meant fewer things to go wrong. In no time at all, the fleet's commanders reported that they were ready to go.

Exactly what happened next would be spoken about for many years to come.

Klaaz was very well-known to the people of the mid-Five Arm. Over the centuries, he'd saved entire star clusters within the middle Five from marauding space meres and pirate groups. He was a marshal in many armies in that part of space; his face adorned the currency of more than a dozen star systems there. No surprise then that hundreds of stories about his adventures had been written, sung, and memorized. Heroic legends about the Great Klaaz had been passed down through generations on the Fifth Arm for several hundred years.

But the legend of Klaaz and the Second Fleet—true or not— would soon become the most famous of all.

It was witnessed by tens of thousands of people, yet the exact details of what occurred that day would never be very clear.

Shortly after the twenty-four UPF ships took to orbit, Klaaz suddenly disappeared. Though he was still in communication with the fleet commanders via string comm, even this was in question, as some claimed Klaaz wasn't actually talking through the ship communicators but that his voice was just appearing to be heard in this manner somehow.