The Star Cross (21 page)

“How long
before the long-range scans can detect the Profiteer and Dacroni ships?”

“Just a few more
minutes,” the sensor operator replied. “We’re really way out on the edge of the
Solar System.”

“I don’t think
they’ll detect us this far out,” Captain Randson said, as his eyes shifted to
the tactical screen. At the moment it only showed five green icons, which
represented their small fleet.

“
Vindication
is launching their CSP,” added the sensor operator.

On the
tactical screen, four small green icons—Lance fighters—left the light carrier
and began their patrol around the fleet one thousand kilometers out.

“Why don’t you
think so?” asked Captain Owens, looking over at Captain Randson. “As advanced
as the Profiteers and the Dacroni are, surely they have sensors as good as what
our ships do.”

Randson
shrugged his shoulders. “They’re only interested in what’s going on around
Earth. I doubt if they’re even looking for ships this far out.”

-

Andrew’s words
were soon proven correct, and, an hour later, he transferred over to one of the
waiting stealth shuttles on the
Vindication
. As he prepared to board the
shuttle, Captain Henry Watkins put in an appearance.

The older man
looked at Captain Randson and then spoke. “Andrew, be careful. We don’t know
what to expect on Earth. With the changes the shipyard people made to the
shuttle, it should get you safely down to the surface.”

“We’ll be
careful,” Andrew promised. He had known Watkins for many years. “I’ll only be
on Earth for a few days. Kurt wants me to meet with the president and Fleet Admiral
Tomalson. Once I’ve made my request, we’ll be on our way back.”

“We’ll be
waiting,” Watkins replied.

A few moments
later the shuttle exited the flight bay and accelerated toward Earth. The
flight would take nearly eighteen hours, and all they could do was hope the
shuttle was, indeed, undetectable.

-

An ensign woke
Andrew to let him know they were nearing the orbit of the Earth’s moon. From
the sound of the ship’s sublight drive, he could tell they had slowed down
considerably. Getting up, he made his way to the cockpit, where the crew was busily
managing their approach to Earth.

“Captain Randson,”
acknowledged Lieutenant Macy Hiat, who was the shuttle’s commander and chief
pilot. “We’re just passing the orbit of the Moon, and we have a lot of
Profiteer and Dacroni ships on the sensors. Also a large number of shuttles traveling
back and forth between them and Earth.”

“Any sign
they’ve detected us?”

“No,” replied Lieutenant
Hiat, shaking her head. “We’ll drop in over northern Canada. Even so, we’ll
pass within a few hundred kilometers of several of the orbiting ships.”

“Just take it slow
and easy,” suggested Randson as he looked at the shuttle’s small sensor screen.
It was full of red threat icons. “They won’t be expecting us, so we should be
able to slip in between them without a problem.”

“I hope so,” Hiat
said, as she reached forward and adjusted several controls on the complicated
panel before her. She looked at her copilot. “Let’s do this.”

Andrew sat
down in a heavily padded chair behind Hiat. He looked out the viewports, seeing
Earth rapidly growing larger. The large blue-white globe made him feel momentarily
homesick. He had been raised in the Houston area and had even married Emily in
one of the local churches. He wondered idly what had happened to their home in
the quiet suburb they had once lived in.

“We’ll have to
slow down considerably to reduce the turbulence in the atmosphere,” Hiat said,
as she put her hands on the flight controls. “We don’t want to look like a meteorite
flashing through the sky when we enter Earth’s atmosphere.”

Andrew nodded.
He knew they were approaching the critical moments of the flight. There was no
way to know for certain if the protective covering on the shuttle would shield
them from the sensors on the Profiteer and Dacroni ships.

A few moments later,
they passed between two orbiting vessels. One was a Profiteer escort cruiser,
and the other was a massive Dacroni battleship. Everyone in the cockpit held
their breath, but there were no reactions from the two ships. Moments later the
shuttle began to vibrate, as it hit the upper edges of the atmosphere.

“They didn’t
detect us,” Andrew said with relief. Now would come the even more dangerous
part of descending through the Earth’s atmosphere.

“I’ll do some
gentle S curves to bleed off our acceleration to a more acceptable level,” Hiat
said, as she watched the speed indicator. “If we heat up the atmosphere too
much with our passing, we’ll be very easy to spot.”

Andrew nodded
and leaned back in his chair. He felt tense, knowing that, at any second, an
energy beam could strike the shuttle, incinerating it. However, the minutes
passed by, and nothing happened. The Earth’s surface gradually neared. Andrew
could hear the air buffeting the shuttle as Lieutenant Hiat steadily slowed the
small vessel.

“I’m setting
down in a forested area, where we can hide the shuttle. I assume you have a method
to contact someone in the government?”

“Yes,” Andrew
replied. He had a small transmitter that Kurt had given him with Fleet Admiral
Tomalson’s emergency contact codes. They were about to see if they would work.

-

The next day
in the underground bunker, President Mayfield was reading the latest intelligence
reports. Since the fiasco in South Africa, the Profiteers had made two other
demands for increases in gold and other valuable metals. Both times the demands
had been met under protest by the targeted countries.

“I don’t like
this,” General Braid said with a scowl. “Not only are we giving them the monthly
tribute we agreed upon, but now they’re making additional demands.”

“It gets
worse,” Raul Gutierrez said, pointing to a message he had just received.
“They’re demanding Australia turn over one thousand bars of gold in two days.”

“One thousand!”
blurted Mayfield, his eyes bulging. “I don’t think they have one thousand, not
after what we sent to Newton. They were one of the countries that contributed
heavily.”

“They may have
it in reserve,” suggested Raul. “After all, Australia is one of the main
producers of the yellow metal. Surely they didn’t send it all to Newton.”

“This could be
a problem,” General Braid said.

Mayfield quieted
for a moment and then shifted his eyes to the Secretary of Homeland Security. “Raul,
see if we can find out if Australia can make the payment. If not, we may have
to help them.”

“Yes, Mr.
President,” Raul answered, as he made a quick note.

The door to Mayfield’s
office opened, and Fleet Admiral Tomalson stepped in. He had a huge grin on his
face. “I have someone I want all of you to meet.” Gesturing behind him, he led
another man into the room.

Mayfield
looked at the newcomer curiously. He looked to be in his early thirties with dark
hair and a deep tan.

“This is
Captain Andrew Randson, Fleet Admiral Vickers’s executive officer on the
Star
Cross
,” Tomalson said.

Mayfield’s
eyes grew wider, as he stared at the captain. “How did you get to Earth? Did
you bring a message from Fleet Admiral Vickers?”

“I came on a
stealth shuttle,” Captain Randson replied. “I have some information for you, as
well as a request.” He quickly outlined what Fleet Admiral Vickers needed and
the reasons why.

“You have got
to be kidding me,” Mayfield said in disbelief, after Randson had explained about
the purchase of the new warships. “Fleet Admiral Vickers has bought an entire
warfleet?”

“It’s how
things are done in the Gothan Empire,” Captain Randson answered. “Everything is
for sale there.” He then went on to describe in more detail what they had
encountered on Kubitz and the brief space battle after they left the empire.

“Fleet Admiral
Vickers needs spacehands,” Fleet Admiral Tomalson said thoughtfully. “I know
some went to Newton with the evacuees, but many elected to stay here with their
families.”

“How do we get
them to Newton?” asked General Braid. “That fleet will be useless without
qualified crews.”

“We send them
and their immediate families,” replied Tomalson evenly. “We also have a number
of people in the air force and navy who would be well qualified to serve on
these new ships. It’ll just take a while to round them up and get them to the waiting
shuttles.”

President
Mayfield looked intently at Captain Randson. “When Fleet Admiral Vickers has
the defense grid set up around Newton, and once the new ships arrive, will he
be able to free Earth?” Everyone looked at Randson expectantly.

“That’s the
idea,” Randson replied. “Once we have the defense grid in place, we’ll order a
second one for Earth. We’ll begin picking off the Profiteer convoys and make
their operation here unprofitable. That alone may force them to leave. If not,
then we’ll have no choice but to bring in our ships and attempt to drive them
from Earth orbit.”

“But you’re
expecting them to attack Newton before the defense grid arrives,” pointed out
General Braid. “Can Newton survive that attack?”

“We’ll
survive,” Captain Randson replied with a nod. “If the Profiteers attack Newton, they’ll regret it, as it will be very expensive for them. That’s one thing we need
to remember. We must not look at the Profiteers as conquerors but as modern-day
pirates, looking to turn a profit. If we can reduce or take away that profit,
they’ll leave.”

“I hope you’re
right,” commented President Mayfield with a deep sigh. He then turned to
General Braid and Fleet Admiral Tomalson. “Let’s begin finding those spacehands
for Fleet Admiral Vickers.” For the first time in weeks President Mayfield felt
maybe there was hope for Earth after all.

-

High Profiteer
Creed looked down at the message he had just received from the Australian
government. They had offered three hundred bars of gold as payment.

“How dare
they!” roared Second Profiteer Lantz in anger. “They are one of this planet’s
leading gold producers. They have the gold. They’re just refusing to turn it
over! We should nuke several of their cities as an example.”

Creed gazed at
the ship’s main viewscreen for a long moment. The southern landmass of Australia was surrounded by the deep blue waters of the surrounding ocean. This planet was
becoming far more troublesome than he had believed possible. He may have made a
mistake in agreeing to leave their major cities alone if they paid the monthly
tribute.

“No, contact
Clan Leader Jarls. I want to send teams down to find the gold. This time we’ll
search through their major cities. If they resist, we’ll use our ion beams and
energy projectors to destroy entire areas if need be. The gold is there. We just
need to find it.”

-

A few hours
later seventy Profiteer and Dacroni shuttles descended on Australia. Their targets were Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, and Canberra.

Upon the ground,
the Australian military saw the inbound shuttles and quickly triangulated the
possible targets. When they realized the cities the shuttles were aiming for,
the alert was sent out. From a number of air bases modern F-75 Eagles launched
with full weapon loads. Ground-based interceptor missiles were activated and
targeted the descending alien vessels. From the city of Canberra a frantic
message was sent, offering five hundred gold bars if the Profiteers called off
the attack. There was no response, and the enemy shuttles continued to descend.

-

The chief of
the air force looked chagrined as he received his orders. “We’re to engage the descending
shuttles and attempt to keep them from the cities.”

“But they have
energy shields,” protested his second in command. “We’ll lose our fighters!”

“I know,” the
commanding officer said, resigned. “But we have our orders.”

“What about
the interceptor missiles?” Those were of North American Union design with a
very powerful warhead.

“They’ll be
fired also.”

-

In the sky
above the Australian cities, eighty-five F-75 eagles climbed toward their
descending targets.

“All squadrons,
fire upon confirmed targeting lock,” ordered Major Hanson. “Once your missiles
have been fired, move in and use your cannons.”

“That’s suicide,”
protested one of the pilots over the comm channel. “They have energy shields.
The South Africans didn’t shoot down a single shuttle.”

“We have our
orders,” the major responded. “We also have better fighters and more powerful
missiles.”

A warning
alarm sounded in his cockpit, and, looking out, he saw the contrails of dozens
of missiles arrowing up toward the enemy shuttles.

“Interceptor
missile launch,” he said over the squadron comm channel.

It took only a
few seconds for the interceptors to reach their targets, and the sky was suddenly
full of bright explosions.

“Did we get
any of them?” yelled someone over the comm channel.

“I can’t
tell,” several others responded.

“Look! To the
northwest, a shuttle with smoke pouring out. It’s going to crash!”

The major
looked, and he saw the falling shuttle impact the ground, leaving a large
smoking crater.

“Scratch one,”
someone called out in an excited voice.

Major Hanson
said nothing. He knew the warheads in those missiles were much more powerful
than the ones in the interceptor missiles the F-75s carried.

A target lock
tone suddenly sounded on his console. “I have a target lock,” he announced.
“All Eagles, engage.”

Moments later
the sky was full of more contrails and jet fighters screaming through the air. Explosions
lit up the sky, but now the shuttles were firing back. Energy beams flicked
down, and, whenever they struck an aircraft, it exploded in a ball of fire.