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“WERE WE HIT?” Jameson asked the room.
“No, sir. I—I’m not sure what happened,” Roberts answered.
“To get here that fast they must have travelled at a more rapid speed than we’d been observing them,” Liam said.
“Our weapons are hot!” officer Jim Crouch announced.
Jameson walked coolly to the rear window leaving Liam and Percy behind at the doorway. From his vantage point the entire rear half of the ship was visible extending two hundred feet below him from the bottom of the spire. He estimated the enemy ship kept pace a thousand feet behind The Hawking.
Noise shrilled through the overhead speakers. It sounded like static, but a kind none of them had heard before. With hands on their ears they looked around for answers checking every instrument and were unable to isolate the problem. Finally, Liam was able to access the intercom system and shut it down. Before they had a chance to voice their confusion another wave of distraction hit them from all sides. Each and every one of the viewing monitors on the bridge cut to a black screen. Seconds later digital static flashed sporadically on all the screens.
“What the hell is going on?” Percy asked, joining Liam in front of the largest screen in the room.
“Beats the shit out of me,” was all Liam could think to say. He hustled around the room checking every monitor.
The digital noise continued for another minute until an image briefly froze on the screen. Underneath the static was a face. Its features were barely discernible. The face was only on screen for a mere two seconds—too fast to note everything. They saw two eyes and skin that featured a light gray tone. No hair on the head. It resembled a human face, but the proportions were slightly askew and narrower than a person’s. The face disappeared and the digital noise ceased a moment later.
“Everybody just saw that, right?” officer Crouch asked from his station.
“We saw it. That was one of them,” Jameson said.
“I think they were trying to hail us,” Liam said, putting his sci-fi film knowledge to use. “They were trying to access our audio and then our video. Whatever they tried wasn’t working with our technology.”
“Captain, what do you want to—” Percy began, but he was interrupted by an officer from across the room.
“Sirs—my computer—I think they’re in my computer!”
“Mine too!” another officer shouted. Three others echoed their computers were being affected as well.
“They’re hacking us,” Jameson said.
“If they hack us they’ll know where we’re going,” Liam said. “They’ll know about Proxima!”
Jameson realized this was it. He could not allow them access to their database. With a deep breath and closed eyes he ordered: “Stand-by to fire round one of missiles. Let’s see what damage we can do. On my command. One...two...three...fire!”
Ten projectiles shot out of the weapon holds that were hastily assembled over the past few months on each side of the hull. The missiles rocketed toward their target at hundreds of miles per hour. Before they could blink the alien ship was littered with explosions. When it all cleared they could see that just as before with the nukes, there was no damage.
No shields, Liam thought. What the hell are these things made of?
“Again!” Jameson screamed, red in the face with a mix of fury and embarrassment.
The second round of missiles resulted in the same fate. Huge explosions. No damage. The aliens seemed to have gotten the message, though, and ceased their attempts at hacking the computer systems. Every eye in the room stared out the rear window bay to await what may happen next. Liam had to remind himself to breathe.
Suddenly, from underneath the alien ship, a light streaked through the blackness of space. Before they could make out what it was, The Hawking swayed violently, dropping everyone who was standing to the floor. Liam’s head slammed into the corner of a desk. Blood gushed from his open wound above his right eye.
“Shit!” he yelled. Once he was able, he pulled himself back up by the same corner that came within an inch of blinding him. He glared at Jameson—blood dripped from his forehead down to his cheek. Jameson detected a look that was clearly questioning his ability to lead their crew.
Jameson shook it off. “Damage?” he asked.
Officer Roberts answered. “None—no damage, sir. At least not to the exterior.”
“What?” Percy asked. How could there be no damage?
“Sir, it appears the—whatever it was—discharged an energy burst that exploded at a far away enough distance to rattle us, but not damage us,” officer Rednour said.
“There are a few systems offline. I’m working on rebooting,” an officer said hidden behind a row of computers.
The standoff between the two ships continued with nobody firing a shot. Jameson instructed the crew to accelerate their speed. The alien ship matched them. They slowed down, again the other ship matched.
Ten minutes after the last shot was fired, a small vessel appeared from the side of the alien ship. The crew followed the tiny craft as it swung around and headed to The Hawking’s rear starboard docking bay. It hovered at the entrance as if waiting to be let in.
Without a word, Liam turned and walked to the elevators. As he waited for one of the doors to open, Percy joined him.
“You can’t be considering letting it board.”
“Yes. But don't tell Jameson. He wouldn't go for this and I expect he'll try to stop me once he figures it out. I have a plan, Percy. Do you trust me?”
“You know I do. But if I'm going to lie to a superior officer I better have a damn good reason. What do you have in mind?”
He laid out the plan that he just formulated in his mind. He had the feeling that he'd be improvising most of it.
“You’re crazy,” Percy told him.
“Yeah, maybe. Just keep Jameson distracted.”
“I think our new friends are doing that for me. Good luck, Liam.”
The elevator door opened. The duo exchanged a brief nod and handshake as the door closed between them. The plan was insane, he had to admit. It came to him in a flash as soon as he saw the alien craft head toward their docking bay. He knew it wouldn’t leave until it was let in. Everything depended on that craft coming inside.
Back on The Christensen, Julie helped Ann up from the bench they’d been sharing for the past hour. Ann had opened up to this woman, a complete stranger, about her fears and the person she held the most concern for.
“Thank you Julie for listening to me ramble. I’m sorry if I was a burden,” she said to her new friend.
“Sweetheart, don’t you dare be sorry,” replied Julie. They hugged one last time. “You sure you know what you’re going to do?”
“It’s my only option I think.”
“Okay, just be careful. Please.”
“I will. Thanks again.” With a faint smile she turned away and began the long walk to the elevator that would take her to the bridge.
Her plan was simple: convince the captain to turn around. How to accomplish that was a whole other matter. She tried to sound confident in front of Julie, but really she had no idea how she was going to gain his attention. She thought about playing the boyfriend card, and would if she had to, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She cared about the lives of Percy and all the others on board The Hawking so she didn't want to appear to be the desperate girlfriend upset because her boyfriend was going to fight a war. She understood that no matter what happened, Liam would do what he always did—whatever it took to keep people safe and alive.
She rounded a corner to the elevator bay and unsurprisingly found it guarded by a man in an officer’s uniform. Have confidence, Ann, she thought to herself. Chin up.
“Hi, my name is Ann Caldwell. I need to speak to the captain, please.”
She extended her hand out to shake his, but the man made no motion to repeat the gesture.
“Please.” She lowered her hand back down, but the man only returned an expressionless stare. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She expected resistance of course, but not a stonewall. This was too important to give up easily. She stepped a few inches closer and returned his stare. She’d stand like this all day if she had to.
“Ma’am, the captain is busy. I need you to return to your quarters.” The officer broke first. One point for her.
“I know he’s busy. I have important information for the captain.”
“Whatever information you have, you can give to me. I will personally tell the captain.”
“No. I think I should tell him personally.”
“What did you say you do here on the ship?”
“I’m—I’m a botanist.” She took in the guard’s confused expression.
“I apologize ma’am, but what kind of vital information would a botanist have for the captain?”
She was perplexed. She sensed her window closing and quickly tried to come up with a satisfactory answer that might have a small chance of allowing her up to see the captain. Every detail of the STS and the alien ships raced past her thoughts at a blurring speed. She saw one that may work—her best hope—fly by and she grabbed it.
“I’ve been researching what powers the alien’s engines. I think they’re using a biofuel chemical reaction as their propellant. It’s something I think we can mimic quite easily on this ship with the plants on board.”
She held her breath awaiting his next move. While it was true they were clueless how the alien’s ships were propelled, she wasn’t sure how high of a priority this would be. Apparently, not very high.
“That would be very excellent news indeed, Ms. Caldwell. I will gladly tell the captain to contact you once we’re out of this dire situation. Escaping Earth is his top priority.”
“Please, I’d love to tell him myself.” She cursed herself for what she was about to say. “He might be more interested to speak with me if he knew that I am Liam Donovan’s girlfriend.”
The officer took a moment to process this new bit of information and using his best judgement decided that it still failed to warrant immediate attention.
“Ma’am, I told you I will relay your information to the captain. I would expect to hear back no later than tomorrow.”
She realized she wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. Her best lie failed and she didn’t actually want to talk to the captain about biofuel propellant that she knew nothing about so she lied once more.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send him an email through the ship-net.”
Before he could respond she turned and walked away. She was powerless to plead with the captain. Powerless to help Liam. Powerless to do anything at all. She began her long walk back to her room.
Debra Sizemore, along with five pilots, waited for Liam in the docking bay. The space was one of the largest areas on the ship with five Z56 crafts calling the bay home. Liam and the pilots shared a salute as he walked into the bay.
“What can we do for you, Mr. Donovan?” Debra asked.
“I’m sure you’re aware of our friend waiting outside.”
“We are. Jameson told us to be on standby. Are you here to relay a plan?”
Taking the chance given to him, he answered in the affirmative. He hoped she wouldn’t double check with the captain. He laid out his idea.
“Can you help me?” he asked.
“Yes, sir!” they all answered in their own variations, though Debra seemed skeptical.
“Let’s invite our friend inside, shall we?”
The five pilots took their positions behind Z56 ships, each armed with a handgun.
He followed Debra to a computer panel on the rear wall to open Bay Door 3, which was where the alien craft hovered behind. The docking bay featured several doors so all the Z56s and Z48s wouldn’t have to exit through the same door.
On the panel he instructed the computer to open the airlock of Bay Door 3. Outside the ship, a door slid open vertically allowing the alien craft to enter the airlock. Each airlock for the bay doors was fifty feet wide and fifty feet high. He watched on a camera as the alien craft slowly entered the airlock.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jameson’s voice cried out on the intercom.
Debra looked at him with eyes like daggers.
“I’m sorry, Debra.”
He turned off the docking bay’s intercom system. Next, he easily disabled remote access effectively shutting out the bridge from overriding the airlock. Jameson could be furious later.
“You can’t do this, Liam. We can’t!”
“Debra, it’s a solid plan. I knew Jameson wouldn’t go along. I apologize for lying. It’s already in the airlock. Are you with me?”
She stared at him and contemplated her next move. Endless seconds ticked away before she hit the next button to close the exterior air lock door. Once closed, air rushed in filling it up. The computer initiated the process to open the inner door.
He watched as the inner door slowly ascended, revealing the alien craft behind it. He kept his breathing at a steady pace hoping to stay calm, but his heart was beating twice as fast as normal. Half a minute later the door opened enough for the craft to fly into the room.
The alien craft was breathtaking. Like its mothership, it was without a straight line anywhere on the surface. He estimated it at thirty feet long and shaped like a miniature fighter jet. The charcoal colored craft hovered above its landing spot for a moment. Unlike the wingless Z56 ships, this craft sported wings that stuck out fifteen feet on each side and arced down at the tips. He thought back to his numerous acts of bravery over the years and channeled that bravery into the simple act of moving his legs forward. His heart beat so fast he worried he’d collapse right then and there. By the time the craft settled into the landing zone, he found himself standing right next to it. He fought the urge to reach out and touch it.
As he examined the surface he noticed several scorch marks. This craft had seen battle. Battle with whom, he wondered? Before he could ponder his own question, a small stairwell appeared out of nowhere in the eight foot gap between the floor and the underside of the ship and above it a door opened. He positioned himself directly in front of the stairs. The only thing visible through the door was blackness. He steeled himself to witness a monster crawl out, but what he saw surprised him. The alien was humanoid. It stood just above seven feet tall and was immensely skinny. He thought it couldn’t weigh more than one hundred pounds.
It came out of the craft dressed in a black one-piece uniform that covered it from feet to neck. Its skin was gray, a few shades lighter than the color of the ship. It was also completely hairless on its head, not even eyebrows above its vertical, not horizontal, eyes. Its long legs handled the stairwell in large, graceful steps. As it reached the floor it studied Liam expressionlessly. He couldn’t tell what it was thinking—murderous rage or friendly hello.
He realized his hands were sweaty and tried to subtly wipe them dry on his pants.
“Hello. My name is Liam Donovan. Can you understand me?”
First contact with an alien species. His only witnesses were hiding with guns drawn ready to fire at the first sign of an attack, and Debra who remained at the airlock control panel. He kept eye contact with the alien waiting for its response.
The alien spoke. Its language consisted of pops and clicks entwined with unknown words. The speech was free of inflection giving him no hints to its intention. It was then that he took notice that the alien did not use a breathing mask. It breathed in the same air as humans. Curious.
The alien began to look around the docking bay. Afraid that it might discover the hiding pilots, he tentatively stepped closer to the alien to keep its focus on him.
“Why are you here? Nod your head if you understand me.” He demonstrated by nodding his own head up and down. The alien remained motionless, its eyes back on Liam as he now stood only a couple feet away. It spoke again in the dialect that reminded him of tribes in Africa he communicated with during the war. He shook his head and put his hand to his ear trying to demonstrate that he couldn’t understand.
“Come,” he said, motioning for the alien to follow. It took the cue and they began walking toward the front entrance. The alien’s long strides caught it up to him and they walked side-by-side. He stole a glance at the alien beside him, having to look almost straight up to see the chin on its narrow face. They stopped in front of the panel by the door. He began a distraction of showing the alien the cameras inside the airlocks. Behind them, one of the pilots laid flat on the ground underneath the closest Z56. The pilot exchanged his pistol for a Taser gun and as he kept the alien distracted, the pilot aimed and fired.
The alien screamed in pain as electricity flowed through its body causing it to drop down to its knees. With one last look at Liam it fell over and passed out. He recognized that look. The alien finally showed an expression—it looked betrayed. The other pilots came out of their hiding spaces putting their weapons away. He couldn’t help himself and bent down to touch the alien’s skin. The texture was rough and bumpy.
“Tie it up,” he told one of the pilots. The pilot ran to one of the mechanic stations and grabbed a cable. They tied the alien’s arms behind its back and dragged it to the nearest corner of the room.
“You,” he said to a young pilot, “stay here and make sure this thing doesn’t wake up. Keep your weapon ready. Kill it if necessary. The rest of you, come with me.”
He led the remaining four pilots back to the alien craft. They each took a moment to examine the vessel. He ran his hand along the surface taking it in. The material was smooth, almost no friction on the surface. He checked one of the scorch marks. It was definitely a battle scar. Maybe Earth wasn’t the first planet to put up a fight.
“You sure you want to do this, Liam?” Debra asked as she joined them to examine the ship. “I hate that you put me in this position, but at the end of the day, I am a more qualified pilot than you.”
“I concede that. However, neither of us know the first thing about this ship. You’re needed here in case hell breaks loose. And it’s not like I’ve never flown anything before.”
“Fine. It’s all you. But let me come in with you and help you figure things out.”
He accepted and the two ascended the stairwell entering the foreign craft. Once they were at the top of the stairs they could either continue forward into a small cargo hold, or make a left and up another two steps into the cockpit. They turned left.
As he hoped—and banked his entire plan on—the cockpit wasn’t too different from human ships. There were two joysticks for flying. Everything else was digital and represented on screens. No analog dials or needles. There was just enough space in the cockpit for him to sit and Debra to observe over his right shoulder. The seat was designed for a being twice as skinny as himself and at least a foot taller. To fit in the chair he had to slightly lean on his right side.
Together, they examined every feature of the cockpit they were able to discern. In his military days he gained some basic fighter jet experience flying in a handful of missions in Africa including the Battle of the Nile in Egypt where he shot down two Egyptian jets. A smaller population meant a smaller military. Many in uniform were cross-trained from ground assault to air and naval.
Minutes later Jameson’s people were outside the docking bay attempting to hack in. Quickly, he and Debra studied the controls in the alien cockpit. Through deductive reasoning they ascertained how to turn the craft on. Immediately it floated up and hovered at a three foot height. He tested one of the joysticks by moving it slightly forward. It rose vertically another two feet. He pulled it backwards and it descended. The other stick moved the craft left, right, forward, and backward.
From the stairwell came a disembodied voice of a pilot yelling to them they only had a minute left before Jameson’s people breached the doorway.
“I can handle the rest,” he told Debra behind him. “I’ll figure it out as I go. Get out and open the inner airlock door. Number three.”
Debra said goodbye and left the cockpit. It took him three attempts to close the stairwell behind her. Finally he was able to slowly and carefully turn the ship and glide it toward the opening airlock door. A screen on his left showed a view from the rear of the ship. There must have been a hidden camera back there that no one saw in their examination. When the airlock was halfway open, five of Jameson’s men stormed inside and ran straight at his commandeered craft. The men fired their weapons. He could hear the bullets bouncing off the exterior. No lights or alarms went off in the cockpit so he took that as a good sign.
One of the men suddenly appeared outside the cockpit window waving his arms in a vain attempt at stopping him. He recognized the man below from his warehouse. He was one of their top security guards and was friendly with Liam during his daily security checkpoint routines. He tried to wave the man away, but he stood his ground. He inched the craft forward hovering at a height just above the man’s head. Once the door opened enough he brought the craft inside. His old security guard banged on the bottom of the craft as he passed over him.
He watched Jameson’s crew shout at him in the rearview monitor, but they didn’t dare come inside the open airlock.
Debra waited for the computer panel to tell her it was safe to open the outer door. The button to do just that lit up green and she pushed it down while wishing Liam good luck.