Kishi: A response to the Blood Chit Challenge by Ms. Kennedy…
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Teki Muyo!
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"Omirei! Get me the enemy's position!"
"I've got 'em! Approaching on vector-relative 2-1-9, moving to intercept!"
"Roger. Squadron leaders 1 and 2, move in to support."
"Affirmative."
"We're on it!"
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It should have been a quiet day at Kennedy Space Center in Florida. It really should have been just an uneventful day watching the goings on of the ISS and monitoring satellite trajectories. Maybe, the director had promised, if things went without a hitch, they might get a look at the new Hubble telescope images.
It wasn't when an anonymous corporate satellite deviated towards the Earth that they paid attention, nor was it when another followed suit. It took 5 such occurrences to draw any serious attention, and by the time that most of the workers were up and active, another 7 had died.
"OK," said the director, in an emergency meeting with the other department heads. "We've got an increasing amount of dead satellites. Any ideas as to why?"
"We've been in contact with the space divisions of the various corporations," said the head of coordination. "They reported no problems with their guidance computers, just a massive failure of some kind."
"Okay, that points to electromagnetic interference," said the director. "How's the sun looking?"
"There's no activity. We checked and double-checked, but no sunspots at all."
"Is there any possibility that this is from Earth in origin?"
The military representative leaned forward. "NORAD hasn't detected any launches from any of the major missile facilities. We'll have to try to investigate the wreckage before we can say conclusively."
A young intern ran into the spartan conference room almost on the heels of the soldier's statement. "Sir! We've been receiving calls from amateur astronomers up along the Eastern seaboard!"
"What's the report?"
"They're saying that there's something going on up over the Atlantic!"
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"Squadron one reporting: the enemy fighter squadron has retreated. Returning to—"
"Damn! They were hiding in the moon's gravity well!"
"Crafty bastards, aren't they?"
"Omirei, this is Admiral Janko. I'm ordering you to return to the fleet."
"Sir, I can use the cloaking organ to break through and catch them on the rear side."
"Until we can get the fleet in position to give you some covering fire, that's a negative."
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After the military had been contacted and told to orient its observation satellites towards the proper coordinates, the conference room had been given access to the video feeds.
The sight was staggering. Coming from the moon were great wooden shapes that, although varied in design and complexity, all had a central pod that seemed to be the proverbial CPU for each of the ships.
Some chose to gawk at that feed. Others chose to react to the fleet of green and white ships that were floating in space over the Earth. They were shaped with more uniformity, small ships shaped like javelins with parts of circles connected to them, mid size ships with what appeared to be four prongs connected to some sort of central cockpit module, huge monstrous ships that seemed to be all wing excepting the huge pincer-like extensions from the front, all with the same green hull covering, the same white lights shining.
There seemed to be some sort of interference in and around the fleets, but after assurances that the cameras were fully functional, they zoomed in to see tinier craft moving frenetically through the fleets.
"What," breathed the military representative, "in God's name is going on up there?"
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"All ships, this is Admiral Janko. Open fire on the Jurai fleet."
"Admiral, this is Omirei. Do I have permission to begin my run?"
"Yes. You know the drill."
"Roger."
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As they watched, the green and white fleet opened fire on the wooden fleet. Everyone assumed that it would be over very, very quickly, when suddenly from each ship emerged at least one blue extension of energy. Moving freely, they began to deflect the shots from the dark fleet.
"What sort of technology is that anyway?" asked the director rhetorically.
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"Admiral, we've received a tight-band encrypted transmission from the Shade. Omirei says he's ready to go."
"Right. Wait for them to begin diverting their fire towards him, then move our Dragons forward."
"But, sir, isn't that dangerous?"
"No worries. Omirei lives for that sort of thing."
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Two things happened at once. The forward wooden ships opened fire, blue light flashing toward the green and white ships. At the same time, in the back of the wooden ships a black shape appeared. Rushing forward, it loosed a torrent of firepower that belied its size. A red beam lanced forward, slicing through fighters that stayed too long in its path. It altered course once every few seconds, shooting pink balls of light, which slammed into capital ships, exploded, left no marks sometimes, left burn marks sometimes.
"Hold on a minute," said the director. "Can we get a replay of the last minute or so of feed?"
Yes, they could. They watched very carefully for any sign of its presence among the wooden ships, but were irksomely disappointed. One moment it wasn't there, the next, it was.
"Amazing," muttered the Electronics head.
The second thing to happen was that the group of javelin ships shot toward the wooden ships. As they opened fire on the black ship, the javelin ships in turn opened fire on the wooden ships, red lances that trained in regardless of the direction the ships faced. Fighters from both sides rushed forward, and soon fiery spheres blossomed in the night.
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"Sir! We've established a frontline against the Jurai fleet!"
"Good. Give the rest of the fleet the order to move forward. Pincer attack."
"Yes sir."
"Admiral, this is Omirei."
"Omirei! Good job on the interference run!"
"Thank you, sir. Moving to rejoin the skirmish."
"I don't know if that's wise. We can't afford to lose another pilot like you."
"Forgive me, sir. The weaves get a little difficult to discern in the thick of things. I can handle them."
"Understood. However, you are ordered to avoid the main battle."
"Yes sir. Omirei out."
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The remainder of the green and white ships began to move forward, and perhaps not a moment too soon. The wooden ships seemed to have recovered from their confusion and were firing at the javelin ships, the blue extensions moving more frantically now to block the fiery red lines. The green and white javelin ships were beginning to take a pounding from the combined firepower of the wooden fighters and the capitol ships.
And there was the black ship, weaving in and out of enemy fighter formations, leaving explosions in its wake. And yet, the military representative noticed, the black ship did not pursue enemies that survived and retreated.
The representative, being something of a history buff, recognized the similarity between this ship's pilot and the Red Baron of World War I, but didn't see a need to vocalize his sentiment.
Meanwhile, roughly a third of the remaining ships had formed a firing line from the Javelin ships around the wooden fleet's right side.
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"Sir, we're reading a lot of fighter activity around the Shade. Shall we move in reinforcements?"
"Yes. Squadrons 5, 7, and 8 are nearest. Order them to disengage and move to fly point with the Shade."
"Understood."
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The black ship became the center of attention for the wooden fleet. Its fighters became consumed only with its destruction, with capitol ships taking pot shots at it whenever it flew into range.
Several green and white fighter craft moved in to alleviate the pressure on the black ship, and soon the area around it contained a spectacular array of light and color.
Meanwhile, the rest of the mechanical fleet had reformed on the other side of the wooden fleet and had begun pounding the flank mercilessly. The defensive weapon employed universally by the wooden fleet was put to use along with the banks of laser batteries, but the sheer weight of the firepower brought to bear was beginning to prove too much. At the same time, the mechanical fleet that had previously arrayed itself opened fire, ripping into the shields of the wooden fleet.
The fire and counter fire of weapons proved to be too much for the black ship to take. It promptly disappeared, reappearing at some distance moving towards the rear of the fleet, presumably to engage in another run. However, the armaments leveled against it proved to be too much, and the pilot perhaps a hair too slow, as a stray shot danced across its hull. It didn't disappear again.
It turned instead, making a run toward Earth, ducking and dodging the various shots and missiles that had its death in mind. However, as it continued its run towards a friendlier environ, it couldn't avoid the thickening spray of death from both friend and foe. More shots pinged off its shields, and more, and more, until, finally the thrusters died and the wreck shot through space towards the nearest body of gravity.
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"Sir! We've lost contact with the Shade!"
"All fighter squadrons are currently engaged in the battle. We can't pull any away."
"Admiral Janko, what are your orders?"
"We can't go after Omirei right now. He'd want us to concentrate only on the battle for now. When we're done here we can go down and try to track him."
"Understood, sir."
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"As you can see, Mr. President, it is quite clear that a vessel of extraterrestrial origin has landed here on Earth."
"I see," said President Rousseau. Nobody had ever expected a half-French democrat from Texas to gain the Presidency, but he had made promises to the labor unions and to the social security beneficiaries and appealed to the victimized masses of corporate scandal. It hadn't hurt any that the man had himself come from poverty and worked for every single thing he had.
He attended Texas University at Austin, catching the Governor's attention with his impassioned speeches for immigrant's rights. The governor, being closely moderate in his political standing, saw Rousseau's potential and offered an internship, which was accepted whole-heartedly.
Now, after having just won the Presidency, he was presented with his first crisis.
"So," he asked the Cabinet. "What do you propose we do about this?"
"Mr. President," intoned the Secretary of Defense, "We can't allow this activity to go unchecked. The video footage clearly indicates that a battle took place, and we have no idea as to whether or not the aliens are hostile to us or not. We should locate this ship or its remains and confiscate it."
"Do we have any idea as to where it may have landed?" asked the President.
"According to the report, NASA scientists were able to monitor its course and plot a trajectory when they lost track," said the Secretary of State. "All current calculations place it as landing in the western Pacific region. Landfall estimates include China, Japan and the Korean peninsula."
"Extraction is likely to be a messy business then," mused Rousseau. "Especially if the Chinese get their hands on it." The Cabinet showed various signs of agreement; China was notorious for taking advantage of any opportunity to advance its technology. At which point, of course, they'd sell it off to the highest bidder, no matter who it was, and with the war on terror, the sums and organizations involved could make things dicey.
No, realized the President, better to get our hands on it first. Due to the highly classified nature of these events, we can't afford to let too much money disappear in some auction.
"Mr. President, if I may make a suggestion?" asked the Secretary of State. Rousseau nodded. "If it made landfall at any of the nations involved, we can assume the media would have a field day with it, yes?"
"Likely. You want our embassies to begin keeping an eye on the news broadcasts to catch any unusual events."
"That's the idea, sir."
"Very well. I want the CIA updated on the situation. As soon as we identify the country, I want them deployed."
"Yes sir."
"Very well, then. What's the next order of business?"
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Kishi: Well, all right. I guess this is going to end up taking multiple parts… at least it won't be some epic or something like my other work in Tenchi Muyo.
Tenchi Muyo! is copyrighted to Masaki Kojishima and distributed by Pioneer Geneon and AIC. The only things I own are those things that I perceive as being original and, thusly, my own. If someone recognizes an idea they thought up previously, all credit goes to them.
It's usually a toss up as to where I can be contacted, but a working address should be in my author profile… I think….