He'd feared this day would come. Now that it had, Derek Wildstar cursed himself for not doing enough to prevent it.
He gripped the console in front of his captain's chair as a quake jolted the Argo. Shouts went up from various members of the bridge crew.
"Heavy damage to Sections Thirty-Five and Thirty-Six!"
"Enemy cruiser five hundred megameters off port side!"
Wildstar gazed at the large viewing screen that dominated the front of the bridge. Hundreds of flashes from lasers and missiles streaked between Earth and the small asteroid belt that used to be the Moon. Orange fireballs blossomed like miniature suns.
"Direct hit on enemy cruiser!" He heard Dash holler from the weapons station.
"Battleships Akihito and Warspite reporting heavy damage!" Nova announced to his right. "All contact lost with cruiser Masamune!"
The Argo shuddered again, this time from its main guns. White beams of light cut through the black void and connected with a manta-shaped cruiser. A huge explosion disintegrated the ship.
"Two enemy destroyers are going after the Langley," Nova blurted.
"Venture! Come sixty degrees to port!" Wildstar ordered.
"Sixty degrees to port, aye."
Wildstar whipped his head toward his weapons officer. "Dash! Ready bow torpedoes!"
Argo rocked from another hit.
Tough it out, old girl.
"Bow torpedoes one through four ready for firing."
"Fire!"
"Torpedoes away!"
The four torpedoes shot across the vacuum of space. Less than a minute later fiery explosions consumed both destroyers before they could attack the Earth Defense Force carrier.
Wildstar's eyes skimmed across the viewing screen. He scowled at the manta-shaped cruisers and the scorpion fighters. For a brief second his mind flashed back two years ago. In this same area of space, Desslock had spared Argo and allowed it to continue to Earth for its epic final battle against the Comet Empire.
He'd always wondered if that was truly the final battle. Prince Zordar had ruled several star systems before coming to Earth. Surely he had forces on those planets who may want to come here to avenge their fallen leader.
Today Wildstar's fears had been proven correct.
"Captain!" Eager hollered from his sensor console. "I've got four Comet Empire ships coming out of the asteroid belt!"
"On screen."
Eager opened a separate window on the left side of the main screen. A massive, cylindrical battlecruiser appeared, followed by three smaller cruisers. Wildstar's eyebrows scrunched. Something looked different about the battlecruiser.
"Eager." Sandor turned to the chubby Southerner. "Zoom in on the battlecruiser."
The large ship filled the screen. Wildstar scanned the object hanging from its underbelly. His breath caught in his throat. There was no mistaking the shape.
"Wow!" Eager gaped at the screen. "That's one big missile."
Sandor turned in his seat to face Wildstar. "Judging by its size, I doubt it's something the Comet Empire would use on a single ship."
"You think their target's Earth?"
"I do." Sandor nodded.
Ice crept up Wildstar's spine. He quickly checked the viewing screen. "Homer! Contact Indomitable, Dragoon and Jutland. Tell them to form on us immediately."
XXXXX
Admiral Teros slid his bulky frame to the edge of his seat. Earth loomed before him. His heart raced as he imagined the missile detonating in this cursed planet's atmosphere and erasing it from existence.
How could such a primitive people bring about the downfall of the greatest empire this galaxy had ever seen?
His hatred for Earth, for the damned Star Force, boiled inside. Perhaps if he'd been here instead of being stuck with garrison duty in the Li'ra System he could have rescued the empire from defeat.
Instead all he could do was gather as many ships as possible for one final mission.
A mission of revenge.
"Final preparations complete," announced Kralach, the captain of the battlecruiser Death Knell. "We will reach optimum firing position in three metrons."
"Excellent." Teros smiled. For two years he had dreamed of this moment. Now . . .
"Admiral! An Earth squadron is on an intercept course with us. The lead ship is . . ." The sensor officer's voice cracked. "The lead ship is identified as the Argo."
Anger lines dug into Teros' face. "Order all ships and fighters to reform on our position. I want the Argo destroyed at all costs!"
XXXXX
Two laser blasts shook Argo. Homer and Dash were knocked out of their seats, but quickly scrambled back up.
"We just lost the Dragoon," Nova reported.
"Dash!" Wildstar whipped his head toward the weapons officer. "Do you have that battlecruiser targeted?"
"Wait . . . making adjustments . . . got it! Batteries one, two and three locked on."
"Fire!"
Intense white light belched from the main guns. Wildstar watched the rays cut through the blackness. Not long before . . .
One of the light cruisers sped between the Argo's lasers and the battlecruiser. An enormous fireball blazed and winked out.
"Dammit!" Wildstar pounded his console.
Three more lasers struck Argo. Scorpion fighters swooped in, unleashing missiles. The pulse lasers got most of them. The ship rocked from the ones that got through.
"The other Comet Empire ships are breaking off." Nova whirled around to face Wildstar. "They're all headed toward us."
He clenched his fist. He had no doubt now that missile was some sort of ultimate weapon.
"Dash! Fire ev-"
Another quake rocked the ship. Sparks burst from several consoles. Wildstar pitched forward and slammed into his console. Holding his side, he grunted and rose. His stomach twisted when he saw main guns two and three reduced to twisted scrap.
"Targeting systems are out!" Dash's voice went up an octave.
Through the barrage of laser and missile fire, Wildstar watched the battlecruiser bear down on the Earth.
"Venture! Full power to the engines. Get us between Earth and that battlecruiser."
XXXXX
"Three . . . two . . . one. Launch!"
Death Knell shuddered as the missile fell away. Moments later a bright contrail roared away from the ship. Teros threw his head back and laughed madly.
"This is for you, my prince! Final victory will belong to the Comet Empire!"
"Admiral!" The sensor officer screamed. "It's . . . it's the Argo!"
"What?" Teros' jaw fell open when he saw the ravaged Earther battleship cross into the missile's path.
"No." He hissed under his breath as he rose from his chair. "Target all guns on the Argo!"
"We can't. We may hit the missile."
Teros' legs gave out. He leaned against his chair. His eyes fixed on the Argo. He had heard whispers among the Gamilons that the ship possessed some supernatural power. It couldn't die, but it brought death to all those it encountered.
He had dismissed such mad ramblings. Now he started to believe them.
XXXXX
"All guns! Fire!"
Wildstar felt the vibration as the Argo's remaining three main guns fired. The pulse lasers on the starboard side also sprang to life. Fireballs sprouted all over the missile.
"Keep firing! Don't stop until -"
A brilliant white flash consumed them all.
XXXXX
Terrance Redding let out a sigh. His eyes darted to the round man on his left. Had Captain Wright heard him?
Several seconds passed without the captain of HMS Sentinel turning to him. Redding relaxed his lanky frame.
Watch yourself. Officers can't act as though they're bored.
The young captain's servant knew that would be difficult. The Sentinel had been sailing in circles for two months, their orders to intercept any French ships smuggling weapons to the rebels.
In those two months, they hadn't seen any French ships, or any ships period.
Redding stared out at the rolling whitecaps, the salt air washing over him. The ship rocked back and forth, its wooden decks creaking. The monotony began to eat at the crew. He himself had to break up two fights this week. During the last one he swore one of the combatants, an unshaven toothless giant, had an inkling to hit him.
Captain Wright brushed off his concerns. "We are here to carry out the King's will. You remind the crew of that."
He doubted serving king and country would be enough to settle the men's restlessness.
"Captain!" A lookout shouted from above. "Starboard side! Starboard side!"
Redding whirled around, holding up a hand to block out the sun. He searched the ocean, expecting to see another ship.
His brow furrowed when all he saw was water.
Captain Wright stared up at the lookout. "What are we -"
"Look at that!" a crewman blurted.
Redding noticed an orange glow above him. He shaded his eyes with his hands. It can't be the sun. What . . .
His mouth fell open as the huge fireball passed overhead. Barely breathing, Redding followed its path. He'd seen shooting stars before. This was much bigger than any of them. A comet, perhaps?
The fireball struck the water just a few miles from them.
"What was that, Captain?" Redding asked in a stunned whisper.
A stoic look fell over Captain Wright's face. He simply shook his head. "No idea, Mister Redding. But I intend to find out." He turned to the skinny young man at the wheel.
"Helmsman. Twenty degrees to port. Head for that . . . fireball."
The helmsman gulped and slowly turned toward Captain Wright. "But . . . but, Captain. That . . . that thing can't be a good omen."
"Spare me that superstitious rubbish. Twenty degrees to port, now."
The helmsman's shoulders sagged. "Aye aye, Captain."
Captain Wright turned to Redding with the barest hint of a smile. "Well, Mister Redding. It appears we are about to have a very interesting day."
Redding smiled. About bloody time.
XXXXX
Wildstar's world of darkness dissolved as he cracked his eyes open. Groaning, he gripped the edge of his chair and pulled himself to his feet. What the hell happened? He blinked a few times and scanned the bridge. The rest of the crew picked themselves up off the deck. He spotted Nova helping Eager sit up. The sensor officer's left arm dangled limply. Wildstar wondered if he'd separated his shoulder.
"Everyone okay?"
The others responded with grunts and mumbled "yeahs."
"Wildstar," Venture called out, supporting himself on his console. "We crash-landed on Earth."
Wildstar strode over to the Argo's helmsman. He stared out at the blue sea that stretched beyond the horizon.
"Any idea where we landed?"
Venture punched a few buttons on his console. He turned back to Wildstar and shook his head. "The navigation computer's down."
Wildstar bit his lip. He decided it didn't really matter what ocean they'd come down in. The Argo was in one piece, along with Earth. Not that that meant the battle was over. The Comet Empire fleet could still break through the EDF line and bombard Earth from orbit.
"Sandor. Get me a damage report. Homer. Contact Earth Defense Force Headquarters. I want a situation report on the battle."
"Derek. You're bleeding." Nova touched her forehead as another crewmember helped Eager off the bridge.
Wildstar felt around his brow until his fingers slid over something warm and wet.
"I'll be fine." He waved off his wife. He wasn't about to go to the infirmary for a stupid cut.
Minutes later the viewing screen blinked to life. Wildstar's gut turned into a ball of ice he read the damage report. Five of their six main guns were down, along with most of the pulse lasers. Three power couplings to the Wave Motion Engine had been severed. The sensor and communications masts were fried. Numerous heat tiles melted during their steep re-entry. He pictured the Argo looking like a comet before it hit the water.
Then came the casualty report. Sixty-seven dead, ninety-four wounded.
Wildstar closed his eyes. Even after all these years and so many battles, dealing with death never got easier.
He drew a deep breath, trying to shunt the deaths to the back of his mind. His first priority had to be getting back to the fight. The time for mourning would come afterward.
"Sandor. First priority is to the Wave Motion Engine, second to the main guns. Homer, get an emergency comm unit so we can talk to EDF Headquarters. Dash. Launch some hypersonic drones. I want to see what the Comet Empire fleet is up to."
The Argo's weapons officer turned to him. "We'll have to bring them back here to go over their data, since our sensor suite is gone."
Wildstar barely kept a scowl off his face. "We'll just have to manage. Do it."
"Yes, Sir."
Wildstar went back to his console and contacted Lieutenant Gira, the commander of Argo's Space Marine contingent. He told the Brazilian to deploy his men on the ship's deck to act as lookouts.
"Drones away," Dash announced.
Gazing through the thick bridge windows, Wildstar watched four contrails streak away from the counter-attack missile silos.
"I'm going to check out the rest of the ship. Venture, you have the bridge."
"Aye, Captain."
Wildstar stepped into the elevator. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand around on the bridge, worrying about the battle and waiting for the drones to return. He had to do something useful. Maybe touring the ship and encouraging the damage control parties would help with morale.
Or maybe I'll just get in their way.
Wildstar shook his head. Doing nothing would drive him crazy, and in turn he'd drive the rest of the bridge crew crazy.
He got a brief report from the Deputy Chief Engineer, Orion Jr. They had every available man working on the Wave Motion Engine. Wildstar was tempted to shout something motivational to them, but refrained. From the way they worked, these guys looked motivated enough.
Wildstar went from deck to deck, getting updates from damage control supervisors and chatting with the men and women making repairs. At times he came across patches of blood on the floor and walls. He stopped and stared, wondering who the blood belonged to.
Wildstar had no idea how much time passed during his tour. The impatience he'd kept at bay now boiled inside him. He had to return to the battle. Or maybe the rest of the EDF fleet already defeated the Comet Empire. He growled, anxious to learn what the hell was happening.
"Captain. I'm not picking up anything." Homer, crouched over the emergency comm unit, looked up at Wildstar as he returned to the bridge.
"What do you mean? Are we being jammed?"
"No . . ." Homer sucked on his bottom lip for a moment. "I mean, I'm not picking up any transmissions. EDF headquarters, the fleet. There's nothing on the military or civilian bands."
"Are you sure that thing's working?"
"I ran three diagnostics on it. Captain, there are no broadcast signals anywhere on the planet."
Wildstar stared at his stunned communications officer. How could this be possible? For a moment he wondered if the missile unleashed an electromagnetic pulse that fried Earth's communications. But most EDF comm systems were hardened against such a thing. Homer should be picking up something.
"W-Wildstar."
Wildstar held his breath when he heard the always confident Sandor stutter. "What is it?"
"I've been examining the data collected by the drones and . . . well, you'd better see this for yourself."
The screen came to life with an image that made Wildstar audibly gasp.
XXXXX
Admiral Teros barely listened to his chief science officer. Instead his eyes bore through the bridge windows and fixed on Earth's moon. Not the thousands of floating asteroids that made up its remains, but the moon itself.
A few words slipped through Teros' stupor. "Wormhole . . . chronoton particles . . . time."
"How could this have happened?" Teros managed to refocus on the science officer, Commander Furnda.
"Admiral. As you know this missile would have opened a wormhole within Earth's atmosphere, the resulting gravitational forces of which would have caused the planet to collapse on itself. But when the Argo destroyed the missile before it could arm itself, it must have somehow ripped open a hole in the space/time continuum and pulled us in."
"How far back in time have we gone?"
"Unknown, Admiral. I'll need to run more calculations. The fact all of Death Knell's sensors are off-line will not make the task easy."
Teros snorted. "I don't care what it takes. Find out where, or when, we are, and find out how to get us back to our own time."
"Yes, Admiral." Furnda bowed and rushed back to his station.
Teros dropped into his seat, rubbing his forehead. He glanced again at the moon. A hopeful part of his mind expected this hallucination to fade, replaced by the asteroid belt and dozens of Earther and Comet Empire ships battling one another.
But the scene remained. The only other ships he saw were the cruisers Wrath and Onslaught. Like Death Knell, they used auxiliary thrusters to keep from drifting off into space until the main engines could be repaired.
Teros breathed deep to steady his rapid heartbeat. What if they couldn't get back to their own time? What if they'd been blasted back to an era when the Comet Empire didn't even exist?
He pounded the armrest. His large legs began to shake. How could his plan have failed so miserably?
Something clicked in his brain. The terrified shaking ceased. He rose from his seat and slowly walked to the front of the bridge. He gazed out the window at Earth.
Hope surged through Teros. He wondered if they'd ended up in a time before the Earthers took their first clumsy steps into space. To a time when their main weapons were swords and spears.
He grinned. Perhaps his mission wouldn't be a failure. Perhaps he could wipe out the human race long before it would do the same to the Comet Empire.
XXXXX
Just keep it together.
Wildstar tightened his face to the point his jaw hurt. All the while he prayed the men and women he passed in the corridors took his stony mask as a sign of calm.
If they only knew.
Finally he reached his quarters. Wildstar stepped inside and leaned against the wall, exhaling loudly.
The door slid shut. He stepped toward the bed, his mind swirling with images that couldn't be real. The moon, the actual whole moon, back in Earth's orbit. Cities and towns made completely of wood and brick buildings. People riding in horse-drawn carts instead of hovercars. And the most disturbing image, red-clad soldiers battling ragged-looking people on the North American continent.
But the images the drones brought back couldn't be denied. Somehow, the Argo had traveled back in time to the 1770s.
Wildstar plopped down on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. The shaking began a second later. A dark feeling of loneliness suffocated him. If he felt this way, how would the rest of the crew react when they learned they were stuck over 430 years in the past?
The door opened.
Wildstar gasped and looked up.
"Derek?" Nova stepped inside, the door closing behind her. "Are you okay?"
He almost said "yes," but bit his lip. When could he ever hide his true emotions from his wife?
Wildstar shot to his feet and ambled to the large porthole, which looked out onto the sea. "What the hell do we do now, Nova?"
"I'm sure Sandor will come up with something. He always does."
"What if he doesn't?" Wildstar spun around. "Did you notice the look in his eyes? Sandor was terrified. I've never seen that look from him."
Nova cast her eyes to the floor. "We just have to have faith. Between him and IQ-9 they'll find a way to get us back home."
"Nova, this isn't the same as setting off volcanoes on Gamilon or shooting ourselves out of a space cocoon with the Wave Motion Gun. Hell, the only time they mentioned time travel at the Academy was in Spatial Phenomena, and only as a theoretical exercise. We have no practical experience with this."
Wildstar slowly ran his fingers through his thick black hair. He thought back to the meeting of his senior officers, when Sandor said he'd explore the possibility of using their space warp technology as a way to travel through time. His friend's voice held none of its usual confidence.
He turned back to the porthole, barely registering Nova's footsteps as she walked up to him. He tried to allow himself to be comforted by her presence, but the worries and doubts that battered his soul wouldn't allow it.
Wildstar stared blankly at the ocean. Ghost images floated over the waves. Captain Avatar and Captain Gideon. Surely they would know what to do, even in a situation as incredible as this.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head. The ghosts of Argo's previous captain and the skipper of the first ship of the Andromeda-class shook their heads in disappointment.
Why shouldn't they be disappointed in him? What business did he have commanding a battleship? He'd just turned thirty a few months ago. Even Nova was older than him, by two years. A captain always knew what to do, always had an answer.
He had nothing . . . except to wait around and pray Sandor and IQ-9 could find a way to return them to 2203.
"What if we're stuck here?" He faced Nova. "We can't stay on Argo forever. How the hell do we live in the 18th Century?"
Nova sighed, turning to the porthole. "Maybe . . . maybe we could share our technology with the people here. Derek, we're in a time when people died from the common cold and tuberculosis. They treated the simplest ailments with leeches. Imagine the good we could do, all the people we could save."
"And what happens when the people in this era start using our technology to build weapons? What will World Wars One and Two be like with astro fighters and Wave Motion Guns? We may wind up destroying the Earth long before the Gamilons tried to."
Nova bit her lip. She leaned against Wildstar. "We'll find a way back. We have to."
Wildstar put an arm around his wife's waist and gently kissed the top of her head. He wished he could muster as much confidence as she had.
"Lieutenant Gira to Captain Wildstar."
He released Nova and answered the intercom. "This is the Captain. What is it?"
"Sir, we have a ship approaching. Fifteen hundred megameters off the port side."
An icy tingle went up his back. Did some of the Comet Empire ships follow them through? "What sort of ship?"
"I don't know, Captain. I've never seen anything like it."
XXXXX
The startled murmurings of the crew faded into the background. Even the sloshing of waves against Sentinel's thick wooden hull vanished. Redding's world condensed into the unbelievable image in his spyglass.
He'd never seen a ship as immense as this one. And the design . . . the sloped bow, the castle-like structure in the middle. He scanned the side, wondering how he could miss the gunports. Surely a ship like that could carry a hundred cannons, perhaps more.
But he saw no cannons. The top deck, however, did feature long slender barrels that resembled large muskets. They appeared attached to some sort of blockhouse. Redding drew a surprised breath. While some of the guns pointed forward, others were turned to the side. Could they actually rotate from one side to the other without turning the ship itself?
Even more astounding, the ship was made of metal!
How can it even float?
"It must be French," said the stout, red coated Lieutenant Addison, who led the Sentinel's marine contingent.
Captain Wright slowly shook his head. "How could the French build something like that and we cannot?"
"Then who could have done it?" Addison turned to the captain with a puzzled look.
Redding swallowed as the captain remained silent. When would he answer? Did he even have an answer?
He must. Captains know everything.
"Whoever it belongs to, it appears to have been through a hellacious battle."
Redding's unblinking eye peered through the spyglass. He noticed numerous gashes and burn marks over the ship's hull.
The sweat under his blue and white uniform froze. His astonishment gave way to fear. The ship before him looked imposing, invincible even. It made him wonder about whatever it was that could damage it so . . . and if it might still be lurking about.
Redding lowered the spyglass and stepped forward. All his worries congealed in his mouth, screaming to be released.
But by what right did he have to voice such concerns? His place as captain's servant was to observe and learn, not offer opinions.
Surely the Captain would know all this anyway.
"Lieutenant." Captain Wright faced Addison. "Gather your marines and hand out weapons to the rest of the crew. I intend to board that ship."
The color drained from Addison's face.
"Calm yourself, Lieutenant. You can see for yourself how damaged that ship is. I suspect a large portion of its crew is either dead or wounded. Capturing her should not prove difficult. Besides . . ." Wright now addressed the rest of the crew. "Imagine the rewards we shall receive when we return to England with that vessel. I would not be surprised if King George himself showers us with gold and promotes each and every one of us."
Such promises did nothing to erase the worry from Addison's face. Despite it, the marine snapped to attention. "Aye, Captain."
Redding gazed at the ship, now a distant lump without his spyglass. He had to trust Captain Wright knew what he was doing. Captains always knew what to do.
The knowledge did nothing to keep him from trembling.
XXXXX
"What the hell is that?"
Wildstar glanced at Homer upon hearing his stunned question. He then returned his gaze to the viewing screen.
With Argo's scanners down, the image came from one of ship's many telescopes that served as a low-tech back-up for situations like this. Wildstar snorted at the irony. A 23rd Century spaceship using technology that had been around for a thousand years to track a ship from 400 years in the past.
Wildstar studied the ship with its fat wooden hull and huge white sails. He'd only seen vessels like this in holo-frames at the Academy. Now one of them was actually approaching Argo.
A steady beeping came from the computer on his console. He read the information on the screen.
"Looks like our historical archives have come up with a match. It's a third rate ship of the line of the British Royal Navy. Approximately six hundred crew, armament seventy-four guns."
"Seventy-four guns?"
"Relax, Homer." Dash gave him a dismissive wave. "Guns during this period only fired balls of solid steel. They'd bounce off our hull like pebbles."
But what if they try to board us?
Wildstar nearly laughed out loud at the thought. Like men with muskets and swords would stand a chance against marines with laser rifles and bopper guns.
He refocused on the British ship as it crawled across the waves. God, but it moved slow. And what must the conditions be on something like that.
Part of him had to give those sailors a grudging respect for living on a ship that could only travel a few kilometers-per-hour with no proper bathrooms, eating food he wouldn't serve to a rat and living in what had to be incredibly unsanitary conditions.
I'll never complain about cramped quarters or lousy food on Argo again.
Wildstar took his eyes off the screen, all thoughts of life on an 18th Century warship wiped clean. It was time to get an update on the repairs to the Wave Motion Engine.
His finger hovered over the comm system when Sandor rushed onto the bridge.
"Wildstar! I've got it!"
"Got what?"
Sandor skidded to a stop inches from Wildstar, his face lit up. "I think I've found a way to get us back to our own time."
XXXXX
"Admiral! I believe I have found a way to return us to our time!"
Teros pushed his hefty frame out of his seat and strode over to Furnda's station. Every man on the bridge also turned toward Death Knell's science officer. Teros noticed their wide eyes and gaping mouths, hope blazing across their blue faces.
"Are you certain?"
Furnda bit down on his lower lip. "I . . . maybe not absolutely certain . . ."
"Can you get us home or not?" Teros barked.
"I . . . I believe this gives us our best chance." Furnda spun in his seat to face Teros. "We have two of our fighters near the wormhole relaying data to this portable scanner." He pointed to the block-shaped device on his console. "Right now the wormhole is too small to allow our ships to pass through it. Plus, it's collapsing. All my computer models predict in fifteen drels, the wormhole will completely disappear."
Teros' insides constricted. "Can you stop it?"
"I cannot stop the collapse, but I can delay it. I have the exact energy signature of the wormhole. We only need to fire a massive energy pulse matching that signature into the wormhole. That should widen it and stabilize it long enough for our ships to enter."
"And we will return to our own time?"
Furnda took a breath before continuing. "Think of a wormhole as a tunnel. Like any tunnel it connects two different points, only instead of, say, opposite sides of a mountain, this one connects opposite sides of time and space. When the Argo prematurely detonated our missile, it created a wormhole that sent us back in time. But, since it is a tunnel, then logically the other end of the wormhole should still be connected with our time."
"'Should', Commander?"
Furnda winced. "You must understand, Admiral. Even with all our advancements, we still have not unraveled all the mysteries of time and space. This is still a theory."
Teros ground his teeth. He didn't want a theory. He wanted to be absolutely certain they could return to their own time.
Unfortunately, if Furnda was correct, they only had fifteen drels before the wormhole vanished and trapped them in the past forever.
"Very well, Commander. I grant you the authority to use whatever resources you require to stabilize the wormhole."
To Teros' surprise, Furnda actually shrank back in his chair. "Um, Admiral. The problem is . . . none of our ships can generate a pulse powerful enough for such a task."
Teros sucked down an angry breath. He glared at the cringing Furnda. "Then why did you bother telling me this if we are incapable of doing it?"
"P-Please, Admiral." Furnda held up a pleading hand. "Yes, it's true none of our ships can emit an energy pulse of the magnitude we require. But there is one ship that can. The Argo."
"The Argo? The very ship that brought down the Comet Empire? You can't be serious."
"I-I am, Admiral. Please, if I may. Their Wave Motion Gun can produce more than enough power to stabilize the wormhole. Our fighters did pick up an ion trail matching the Argo's signature. According to my calculations, it came down in the body of water the natives call the Atlantic."
"We don't even know if the Argo survived. For all we know it sank to the bottom of that ocean in a thousand pieces." Teros snorted soon after he said it. Deep within himself he doubted that. Somehow the Argo always seemed to survive the gravest situations. Why should this time be any different?
He turned away from Furnda. His mind clicked away with ideas. Teros closed his eyes, pulling together the varied thoughts, refining them, molding them into a coherent plan.
He wheeled around to Furnda. "Transmit the Argo's trajectory to all fighters and shuttlecraft." He then turned to Death Knell's captain. "Captain. Assemble all troopers and non-essential personnel in the hangar bay. I think we can safely assume that Captain Wildstar will not simply hand over the Argo to us. So we will have to take it from him."
XXXXX
Wildstar sat in his chair, working his jaw back and forth as he stared at the digital clock on his console. Fifteen more minutes. That's how long it would be before the Wave Motion Engine was fixed. The more he tried to force himself to be happy, the more dread filled his soul. He'd always had faith in Sandor, but what if his friend was wrong? What if the Wave Motion Gun didn't stabilize the wormhole? What if it did, and they got dumped into some other time, like back when dinosaurs walked the Earth?
He also worried about the three Comet Empire ships the drones spotted near the wormhole. Right now it appeared they could only use maneuvering thrusters. If they managed to repair their main engines before Argo, not only was his crew sitting ducks, but so was Earth. Those three cruisers could park themselves in orbit and raze every city and town on the surface without worrying about reprisal. Wildstar sweated when he imagined the consequences for future generations.
If there are any future generations.
He clenched his armrests, muscles tensed, waiting to hear from engineering.
Wildstar lifted his eyes to the main viewing screen. The British sailing ship continued its snail's pace toward Argo. Venture estimated it'd be within forty megameters by the time Argo was ready to launch.
Wildstar managed a brief smile, wondering how the British sailors would react when they saw the huge ship lift out of the water and soar into the sky.
Would that change history somehow?
He stared hard at the British ship. What if someone on it possessed a very inventive mind? What if he laid the groundwork for the creation of space battleships decades, even centuries, before the first one was built? Would that change history for better or worse?
Wildstar knew one way to prevent that. He could order the Space Marines to incinerate that ship. But he could not bring himself to order the deaths of 600 British sailors on worries that might never come to pass.
There's been so many unbelievable legends associated with the sea. Maybe we'll just become one more.
"Derek!" Nova blurted. "Our rear telescopes just detected forty small aircraft five hundred megameters off our stern."
"On screen."
The image of the British ship vanished, replaced by forty scorpion-shaped fighters streaking over the ocean.
Wildstar activated his comm system. "Lieutenant Gira! We have Comet Empire fighters inbound from the stern. Fire at will."
"Aye, Captain."
"Dash! What our weapons status?"
"Not good. Only ten percent of our pulse lasers are operational, and we only have one main gun working."
Wildstar scowled. He hoped that would be enough to fend off forty fighters.
XXXXX
Redding couldn't imagine what a woman would be doing aboard the Sentinel. But surely the high-pitched gasp he just heard could only have come from a woman.
A second later, he realized it had come from his throat.
He trembled. His unblinking eyes fixed on the unbelievable scene before him. Flying discs were bearing down on the huge ship. Flying discs! How could that be possible?
More screams echoed up and down Sentinel. Men pointed with shaky fingers.
"Look!"
"What's that?"
"How are they doing this?"
Red flashes rose from the big ship. Seconds later the smaller ships responded with blue lightning bolts. Frightened chatter swirled around the Sentinel.
The flying discs, which he noticed sported scorpion-like tails, swarmed around the ship. A red flash sliced through one of the discs and set it aflame. A small comet, only this one hurtling toward the sky instead of from it, connected with another disc and exploded.
"Captain, what are those things?" Addison's voice cracked.
Redding tried to look at Captain Wright, but couldn't tear his wide eyes away from the terrifying battle.
"I . . . I have no idea."
Redding's heart pounded like mad. A new fear poured into his soul. He'd never heard the captain's voice quiver in such a way. Could he be scared?
A huge fireball burst from ship's castle. A disc trailed smoke and smashed into the ocean. Redding clasped his trembling hands, prayers racing through his mind as he gaped at what could only be described as a lethal combination of fireworks and a lightning storm.
The amount of red flashes from the large ship dwindled. One by one, the surviving discs retreated from the fight and soared high into the blue sky.
"Look!" one of the crew cried out and pointed. "There's more of them!"
Redding looked up. Indeed more flying ships, resembling bulky manta rays, descended from the sky. They too, fired lightning bolts at the large vessel. Hundreds of separate flames danced across its deck.
Gasps of astonishment arose from the crew. The second fleet of flying ships actually hovered over the larger ship, the sun glinting off their steel skins. One by one they settled on the deck.
"They're boarding her!" Lieutenant Addison blurted.
Redding watched men swarm out of the manta ships. With great effort he shifted his eyes to Captain Wright. Somehow, the man retained his stoic expression.
Redding's chest rose and fell rapidly with panicked breaths. The Captain would surely call off their boarding attempt. How could they contend with something this . . . unnatural?
"W-What shall we do now, Sir?" This from the first officer, Commander Harrington.
Wright whipped his head toward the rotund man. "'What shall we do?' We shall carry out our task and secure that ship . . . all those ships, for His Majesty."
Harrington took a step back, his pudgy face losing all its color. "B-But, Captain. Those things. What can we do against things like that?"
Captain Wright's face tightened. He took a threatening step toward Harrington. "Get a hold of yourself, Mister Harrington." The Captain turned and scanned the rest of the crew. "I don't care if those . . . ships, or whatever they are, were sent here by Lucifer himself. We will board that vessel and we will bring it back to England."
"But those things will kill us!" cried out a bare-chested, bearded crewman.
"Then why haven't they done so already? Whoever is in those things probably thinks a ship like ours is no threat. That will prove their downfall. Once we capture that large ship and the smaller ones, we can learn how to use them. With those things under our control, we can end the rebellion in America and grind France and Spain under our heels. Britain will reign supreme over the world."
"There's no way anyone'll get me to set foot on that devil's ship," The bare-chested sailor hollered back. "No way!"
Redding noticed Captain Wright's head tremble. Several of the crew nodded and cheered their fellow sailor's words. Redding tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He knew not which he feared more, boarding that ship or a mutiny.
His heart pounded furiously when he saw Captain Wright produce his pistol. Redding jumped at the sharp crack. He gaped at the rebellious sailor, sagging to his knees, a bloody hole in the middle of his hairy chest. The other crewmembers looked on in shock as the man fell on his stomach. He did not move again.
"I will not tolerate mutinous behavior on my ship!" Captain Wright held up his smoking pistol. "You will carry out my orders and you will not disgrace The Crown!" He whipped his head toward Addison. "Lieutenant Addison. You and your marines will make certain every man carries out his duty and boards that ship. Anyone who refuses to do so will be shot! Understood?"
Addison hesitantly nodded. "A-Aye, Captain."
Redding felt himself ready to collapse, his jelly legs barely able to support him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed at the large ship. It grew closer and closer, like the maw of some giant beast prepared to devour him.
XXXXX
"We're being overrun!"
Wildstar's muscles tensed as he saw Lieutenant Gira's bloodstained face on the screen. All around him laser beams flashed and smoke billowed.
"The Comet Empire troops are about to breach Deck Ten. I've already lost over half my men. We can't hold -"
A small cylindrical shape dropped behind the Space Marine. A second later the screen blazed orange, then went black.
Wildstar turned away, clenching a fist. He tried to push all thoughts of Gira's death, and all the other deaths, out of his head. Defending Argo had to take precedence over everything.
A laser pistol shrieked. He turned and saw Dash's chair tumble to the side, its base severed. The weapons officer holstered his smoking pistol and dragged the chair to the bridge entrance. Three more chairs were piled around it. Not the most imposing barrier, but it was all they had available.
He checked the 3-D image of Argo on the viewing screen which showed the locations of the boarders. The bulk of the enemy troopers had divided into two groups, one heading for the engine room, the other for the bridge. Smaller skirmishes occurred throughout other areas of the ship.
Why are they boarding us? Why not just blow us out of the water?
Wildstar chewed on his lower lip. He could only come up with one reason. The Comet Empire probably reached the same conclusion as Sandor. Since none of their ships could produce a powerful enough energy pulse to stabilize the wormhole, they had to get the one that could.
His ship.
Not without a fight.
Wildstar strode over to the pile of chairs in front of the doorway, laser rifle in hand. He knelt beside Dash and Venture. Sweat covered his brow as the sound of laser fire filtered up to them.
XXXXX
"Would you look at that?" Pilot Second Order Halvin stared out the windshield of his shuttlecraft, parked near the wreckage of one of Argo's rear main guns.
Infru, the co-pilot, scooted forward in his seat and raised his head. "What are those primitives doing?"
Halvin stared at the wooden ship bobbing up and down beside the Argo. "You don't think they're trying to board this ship?"
"Do we really have to worry if they do? Look at that thing. I'm surprised those humans can even keep it afloat."
Halvin reached under his seat and dug out an optics enhancer from his survival kit. He held the rectangular device to his eyes and scanned the wooden boat.
"Infru! You won't believe this!" Halvin let out a laugh. "Those humans are actually carrying swords. Wait! I think they have guns." He shook his head in disbelief. "By Zordar's spirit, they look like those firesticks our people used in the pre-spaceflight days."
Infru convulsed with laughter. "What idiots, these humans. Do they really expect swords and firesticks to be any match against a plasma rifle?"
Halvin turned to him, still chuckling. "Such a fight would be over in half-a-metron, maybe less. Still, I guess we should alert our men."
He contacted the commander of the assault force. He curtly thanked Halvin for the information and signed off.
"He didn't seem too troubled by it." Infru nodded to the comm unit.
"Why should he? Do you honestly expect primitives like that to defeat the Comet Empire?"
XXXXX
Sweat soaked every inch of Redding's body. His stomach condensed into a ball of nausea. He watched Sentinel edge closer to a huge gash in the other ship's hull. A few nervous crewmen stood at the gunwales clutching grappling hooks. A tear slid down Redding's cheek. He prayed no one, especially the Captain, noticed.
"Hooks away!" ordered Captain Wright.
Redding pleaded with the Lord for none of the hooks to connect.
Three of the four lines thrown snagged on the gash.
Redding had trouble breathing. The short-barreled blunderbuss shotgun in his hands grew damp from his sweat. Images of family members he'd never see again floated through his mind.
Sentinel shook as it bumped against the larger ship.
"GO! GO!" Captain Wright waved his sword over his head.
Under the watchful eyes of the Sentinel's marines, the crewmen leapt over the gunwales and through the gash. Two men miscalculated and fell between the ships. Another ripped open his leg on a jagged piece of metal.
"Let's go, Mister Redding!"
He felt Captain Wright grab his arm. He tried to plant his feet firmly to the wooden deck, not caring about the threat of imminent execution.
Instead Redding found himself running alongside Captain Wright. With a terrified scream he jumped over the gunwales.
Something snagged his foot. He pitched face first onto the metal floor. The blunderbuss skidded from his moist hands.
Redding lifted his head and looked around. The corridor was deserted. Crewmen, marines and officers stood in a huge knot, looking around.
"Come on!" Captain Wright started down the corridor. "There must be some ladders around here. We need to get to the top of that castle. No doubt that's where we'll find the captain. Now move."
Redding shakily got to his feet and retrieved his blunderbuss. His nervous breathing mixed with that of the men around him.
XXXXX
Wildstar took deep, controlled breaths, fighting down the terror that clawed at his soul. The laser fire grew louder. Smoke wafted up the stairwell and into the bridge, carrying with it the stench of scorched metal and flesh.
He glanced over his shoulder at Nova, sheltered behind the captain's console, pistol in hand. Dark fingers wrapped around his heart. He tried to push away the nightmare images of his wife lying dead on Argo's bridge, her body mutilated by laser burns.
It was one worry he couldn't rid from his mind.
He closed his eyes. What he wouldn't give for one minute to hold Nova, to tell her he loved her more than anything in the universe.
Judging from the sound of the laser fire, he doubted he would get that minute.
XXXXX
Redding and the rest of the boarders stepped over the carpet of bodies. The blunderbuss trembled in his hand as he ran his wide eyes over the dead. Charred, smoking holes ravaged many of the corpses. What sort of gun could cause wounds like that?
Even more disturbing was the color of some of the dead. Blue! People with blue skin. Where could such people have come from?
"Hold up!" Captain Wright held out his hand, palm up.
Redding looked around him. He saw four blue-skinned men in gray clothing that fit tight against their bodies running up a metal staircase.
"I'll wager that leads to the castle." Captain Wright turned to them. "Follow me, men! This ship will be ours!"
He charged forward. In twos and threes others followed. The marines prodded the rest of them.
Redding's heartbeat engulfed his ears. Soon it didn't feel as though he ran under his own power. He was being pushed along by the flow of the crowd.
The mass of humanity snaked around a bend. Redding gulped when he saw a tightly packed herd of blue-skins. Three of them turned, their eyes wide with shock.
Captain Wright plunged his sword into the chest of the nearest one. Sentinel's men and the blue-skins slammed into one another with a deep smack of flesh on flesh. An axe fell on the head of a blue-skin. Another blue-skin swung his strange-looking gun like a club.
Redding found himself pushed against one of the enemy. Even with its blue skin, he could tell the soldier was perhaps a couple years younger than him. The shock and fear blazing on his face probably mirrored Redding's.
Whether by reflex or a push from the crowd, Redding jammed the blunderbuss into the blue-skin's stomach and fired. A warm, sticky liquid splashed onto Redding as he watched the other man crumple, nearly cut in two.
Unable to reload in the tightly packed stairwell, Redding shoved the gun in his belt and drew his dagger.
Captain Wright turned around, shouting something. He then ran one of the blue-skins through with his sword.
Suddenly a lightning bolt slashed through the mass of bodies. Someone fell against Redding, smoke rising from his chest.
It was Captain Wright. His blank eyes stared into the next world.
More bolts cut through the crowd. Redding felt more than heard himself scream as more of Sentinel's crew fell. Lieutenant Addison waved his arms frantically, signaling them to retreat.
A second later a bolt sizzled through his head.
Redding turned around, pushing against the surviving crewmen. Escape was the only thing that filled his brain.
XXXXX
"I don't believe it." Wildstar shook his head as he looked at the viewing screen. The internal monitors showed the Royal Navy sailors attacking the Comet Empire troopers with swords, axes and ancient lead-projectile guns . . . and actually winning. For a minute or two, anyway. In the end, laser rifles got the better of 18th Century weapons.
But the British did, probably unknowingly, save everyone on the bridge. Now all the Comet Empire troops chased after the surviving sailors.
"What now, Captain?" asked Dash.
Wildstar worked his jaw back and forth. It wouldn't take long for the Comet Empire troopers to wipe out those poor sailors. Then they'd be back to take the bridge.
No way he'd let that happen.
"We'll hit them from the rear while they're distracted. Come on!"
XXXXX
Redding's breathing grew labored. Invisible wire wrapped around his legs. Still he kept running, even as crewmen fell around them. Every time a bolt flew past he screamed. He prayed to God to forgive him for all his sins before one of the bolts eventually found him.
A flicker of hope ignited when he spotted the gash Sentinel's crew had entered through. He ignored the pain and fatigue and pounded toward it. When Redding reached it, he doubled over and sucked down a breath.
That's when he noticed he was alone.
His head swiveled. He couldn't see anyone else from the Sentinel.
Are they all dead?
He did, however, spot more blue-skins further down the corridor. But they weren't shooting at him. Redding saw red bolts cutting into the blue-skins' ranks. Could it be some of this ship's crew fighting back?
He didn't care. He just wanted to get off this unholy vessel.
Redding looked out. Sentinel was too far away for him to jump. He'd have to wait until it got closer before . . .
Something flashed in the corner of his eye. Redding looked up and saw one of the bulky manta rays that had landed on this ship hover over the Sentinel.
Two lightning bolts spat from the craft. Redding turned away as a bright flash engulfed Sentinel.
When he turned back, fear rammed a clawed hand through his body.
The Sentinel had split in two, flames gushing from each half.
"NOOO!" Redding shook uncontrollably. He looked back down the corridor. Most of the blue-skins were dead. He wondered what the crew of this ship would do to him if they caught him.
Gulping nervous breaths, he stared at the rolling waves below him.
Closing his eyes and muttering a prayer, Redding jumped.
XXXXX
Wildstar trudged into the mess hall, the rush of adrenaline he'd felt during the hour-long siege fading from his body. He fought to keep his heavy eyelids from closing. Every muscle cried out for rest.
Rest, however, would not come for a long time.
He scanned the prisoners. Just twenty-five, out of an assault force of anywhere from 200 to 250. Wildstar went up to the dark-skinned Petty Officer in charge of the guard detail. "Which one's the highest ranking officer?"
"That one, Captain." The man pointed to a narrow-faced trooper with a tattered uniform and mussed brown hair. The young officer sat with his knees tucked against his chest.
"What's your name?" Wildstar stood over him, arms akimbo.
The trooper looked up at him. "L-Lieutenant Kask."
"Lieutenant. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you will answer them truthfully. We know three Comet Empire ships came through the wormhole with us. Are there any more?"
"I . . . I don't know."
Wildstar's face contorted with anger. He yanked out his laser pistol and fired. Kask screamed as the bolt burned through the wall inches from his head.
"The next one goes through your head." It may not have been an EDF-approved interrogation technique, but Wildstar didn't have time to play nice. "Now, did any other Comet Empire ships come through the wormhole?"
"No. Just those three, I swear it."
Wildstar nodded. The plan he toyed with in his head began to coalesce. He ordered IQ-9 to the mess hall. Once the squat robot arrived Wildstar asked Kask more questions. Not only did he volunteer the communications codes to contact the Comet Empire ships, he also provided IQ-9 with a voice print the robot could imitate perfectly.
XXXXX
Admiral Teros paced the bridge with a smile as the last of the attack fighters returned from their mission. The message came in just a few minutes before.
"The Argo has been secured. We are preparing for immediate takeoff."
It had come from some junior lieutenant named Kask. If someone like that was in charge, it must have indeed been one bloody battle to capture the Earther ship.
All worth it in the end.
Teros finally had the means to return his men to their own time. Even better, he had more than enough time to bombard many of the largest human settlements from orbit once the weapons and main engines had been repaired. Such a devastating attack would severely derail Earth's technological and societal advancement, hopefully to the extent they'd be ill-prepared to face the Comet Empire in the future. He closed his eyes and savored the thought of returning to a universe where Prince Zordar lived and the Comet Empire was still strong.
And where Earth, this damned demon-spawned planet, lived under their iron boot.
"Admiral." Captain Kralach strode up to him. "Our scout fighter reports the Argo has left Earth orbit. It should rendezvous with us in fifteen metrons."
"Excellent. How long before our main engines are repaired?"
"Within the drel, Sir."
Teros smiled. He stared out the bridge window and rocked back on his heels. Visions of primitive human settlements being reduced to ash filled his mind. The smile grew wider. When he set out on this mission, he never expected he would win the war against Earth hundreds of years before it actually started.
"Admiral!" One of the crewmen hollered from his console. "The scout fighter is reporting a massive energy build-up from the Argo."
Teros turned to him. "What are you talking about?"
"The readings are off the scale. Our scout pilot thinks the Argo is powering up its Wave Motion Gun."
"Why would they do that when . . ." Cold fingers pressed against his flesh. No. How could they?
"Evasive maneuvers! Evasive maneuvers!"
XXXXX
Through his dark goggles, Wildstar stared at the targeting scope, which showed him a feed from one of the telescopes. Puffs of flame spurted out the sides of the Comet Empire ships. Maneuvering thrusters. Their main engines were still down.
Looks like our engineers are better than theirs.
The high-pitched whine filled the bridge, growing louder as the energy in the Wave Motion Gun built up to one hundred percent.
"Ten seconds!" Wildstar squeezed the pistol grip on his console. The wormhole and the Comet Empire ships all remained in the Wave Motion Gun's path.
"Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . FIRE!"
XXXXX
A lump formed in Teros' throat as a brilliant white flash cut through the blackness of space. Several men trembled. A few openly cried. He watched the burst of pure energy grow larger.
In his last second of life, Teros realized the Gamilons were right. The Argo was some supernatural force, spawned to destroy all who crossed its path.
The light consumed Admiral Teros, Death Knell, Onslaught and Wrath.
XXXXX
"The wormhole!" Sandor pointed toward the bridge window. "It's open!"
A quiver of excitement raced through Wildstar. His wide eyes fixed on the swirling white portal hanging between the Earth and the Moon.
"Venture! Take us in!"
Now worry replaced excitement. Wildstar pressed his sweaty hands against his pants as the Argo approached the wormhole. He prayed 2203 lay on the other side.
XXXXX
TWO DAYS LATER
Wildstar stood on the porch of the small wooden cabin he and Nova called home, staring through the trees at the lights surrounding Tokyo Bay. How many times had he wondered if he'd ever see his home, his world again?
Somehow, the universe smiled on them again. Despite overwhelming odds, the Star Force found a way to triumph. Times like this he wondered if the Argo was blessed in some way.
More likely we just have a great crew.
"Out here again?
Wildstar turned, his heartbeat picking up when he saw Nova in a kimono and slippers. She slipped an arm around his waist. He did the same with her.
"I don't know. I just like reassuring myself we're back in our time."
Nova canted her head. "What? Did you think we'd come back to an Earth ruled by the Nazis or Islamic fundamentalists?"
"I don't know." He grinned at her. "When I was in high school one of my teachers made us read this old science fiction story from the Twentieth Century. It was written by a Brad somebody. Anyway, these hunters travel back in time to the age of the dinosaurs. One of them stepped on a butterfly, a butterfly of all things, and it winds up changing all of history. I guess part of me was afraid we may have stepped on a butterfly."
Nova rubbed his back. "Well, as you can see. We're not flying into space in old rockets or living in huts or using fossil fuel powered vehicles. The world's just the same as when we left it."
Wildstar's smile grew wider. He turned away from his wife and again stared out at Tokyo Bay.
"Well . . ." Nova slid in front of him. "We have two months before Argo's repaired and the replacement crewmembers arrive. Do you want to spend all that time on the porch or would you rather do something more productive?"
Without a word, Wildstar let Nova lead him to their bedroom.
Hours later he lay quietly in bed, Nova curled up against him. He gently stroked her brown hair, relishing the moment. Their defeat of the rogue Comet Empire ships was just the first of more battles to come. EDF Supreme Command decided to put together task forces to track down the last elements of the late Zordar's fleet before it could mount another attack on Earth.
And the Argo would be leading one of those task forces.
As sleep pulled at Wildstar, the image of the old British sailing ship popped into his mind's eye. A pang of sorrow went through him. There had been no doubt all the sailors had died, thus preserving the secret of 23rd Century ships fighting in the 18th Century. Still he wished he had the chance to meet one of them, thank them for their unwitting role in preserving the history of their world.
XXXXX
MARCH 6TH, 1862
John Ericsson stood on the dock surrounded by dozens of men, some in suits, some in Navy uniforms. His chest stuck out as he gazed at the vessel sitting in the harbor.
I've done it. I've really done it.
He scanned the crowd. Many shook their heads in disbelief. A few pointed at the vessel and scoffed.
"It will surely sink like a stone once let loose from its moorings," one man said.
Ericsson grinned. He had dealt with pessimists like that for years. Had he listened to them who knew where he'd be today.
I'd probably end up like Ol' Red.
He thought back nearly forty years prior, when he was a young man living in England. He'd gone into a random pub to drown his sorrows after he finally convinced himself his heat engine would never work. But instead of spirits, he came to forget about his troubles by listening to the mad ramblings of a wizened gentleman the patrons called Ol' Red. Supposedly, he had been an officer in the Royal Navy during America's war of independence. The sole survivor of his ship, he'd been plucked out of the ocean by a passing French warship after spending four days afloat on a piece of driftwood.
For whatever reason, Ericsson found himself captivated by the man's tale of flying discs and blue-skinned people with guns that spat lightning bolts. But what really fascinated him was Ol' Red's description of an immense ship made completely out of metal, with large rifles sticking out of boxes that could apparently rotate from side-to-side.
Most of the patrons laughed. But something flickered inside Ericsson's brain. A metal ship with rotating guns. Imagine the possibilities. It wouldn't have to completely turn to bring its armament to bear. Cannonballs could bounce off it.
He smiled at the memory of the crazy old man. Part of him wished he could give Ol' Red a little credit for this invention. But Ericsson had had a hard enough time selling the idea to the U.S. Navy. How would they react if he told them the inspiration for it came from the delusions of an old man?
He turned his owl-like face to the heavens and winked at Ol' Red.
Thank you, you crazy old man.
Ericsson looked back out at his vessel. The flat metal slab with its rounded turret probably did not look like the ship from Ol' Red's insane mind. But when the USS Monitor put to sea and eventually faced its Confederate counterpart, the CSS Virginia, it would change the course of history.
- THE END -
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, check out my original sci-fi invasion novel "Dark Wings" (by John J. Rust), available from Amazon and as an e-book at smashwords-dot-com.